A powerful record of collective trauma and healing from a true Brixton luminary

A monolithic sound system towers over the room. A circular rug creates the playing space. A table, two chairs and two screens are all else that’s needed for Brixton legend Sutara Gayle (aka Lorna Gee) to take us through a journey of heritage and trauma to the other side. And a microphone, of course.

The show’s present is set in a spiritual retreat in India where Gayle is undergoing some meditation guided by her brother, Mooji. It is the place in which Gayle is encouraged to allow her past to flood out of her, to realise that the past and future are simply thoughts, and that everything truly exists in the right here and now.

From here, we are catapulted to and from the defining chapters of Gayle’s life and heritage. And what a life. We begin with her pioneering presence on the male-dominated sound systems of the eighties, earning her chart-topping success and awards, while she battled the darker underbelly of the culture. We experience her time in prison as well as her stints in several schools before being placed under a care order. Next, she portrays her mother, Euphemia, a seamstress working hard to keep a large family together in the shadow of domestic abuse. Then, we are transported to the wider community trauma that was the 1985 Brixton riot, triggered by the unjust shooting of Cherry Groce. And the final legend we hear from is Gayle’s ancestor, Nanny of the Maroons, an eighteenth-century leader of formerly enslaved Africans. As we travel, we return often to the meditation, to a Gayle who is struggling to find the strength to invite this difficult history to the surface.

There’s a lot to unpack in a show about both personal and collective trauma, about the journey from Jamaica to a Britain less welcoming than advertised, about how we subsume our history into ourselves to arrive, empowered, in our present. Fortunately, Gayle is a compelling guide with an infectious energy. The use of musical numbers—often funny with memorable hooks—particularly reggae, allows Gayle to utilise the style of storytelling she was born to perform, and elevates the production in the process. The way Gayle (or maybe Lorna Gee) is able to ignite the Brixton crowd in the opening moments is, in itself, a privilege to behold.

While Gayle is undoubtedly a talented performer, there are moments when the show loses clarity. Jo McInne’s direction is wonderfully adept at travelling Gayle around the space and manages to create believable worlds out of simple decisions (aided by well-crafted design and projection), but placing the burden of communicating character shifts purely on Gayle’s subtle physical or vocal changes can cause confusion. The characters are all believable and fleshed-out but the sheer number alone often means that their introductions are unclear, leaving the audience a few seconds behind the action.

That being said, this feels like an important show. Gayle’s writing is great—sharp, funny, energised—if occasionally too on-the-nose, and she speaks powerfully to a topic deserving of a piece like this. It’s probably worth noting that I am not likely the first audience for this show, but it was certainly still moving and enlightening, and it only took looking around to see just how much it means for so many to see this story told here in Brixton House, not too far from Normandy Road, by one of their Legends, Lorna Gee.