Writer: Camille O’Sullivan
Connecting Shane MacGowan, Kirsty MacColl, Sinéad O’Connor, David Bowie, Tom Waits and Nick Cave, among others, Camille O’Sullivan’s new show Loveletter is a very personal tribute to great musicians she knew and many others whose work she admires. Performed at Soho Theatre, there is a chaotic melancholy to O’Sullivan’s stage presence as she navigates a show about loss and memory, each track evoking a particularly poignant memory or experience, yet for all its compositional diversity, O’Sullivan makes every song distinctly her own.
And the singer is old school in the very best sense, entirely lost in the mood, emotion and lyrical poetry of the music she performs, forever thanking its creators as well as her keyboard and trumpet-playing bandmate Fergal Murray, making Loveletter feel like a prayer at the altar of a specific kind of creativity. The singer’s passion for the people behind the songs as well as for the music itself is the spine of the show, an authentic through-line that connects the audience to the performance throughout. So, as she segues from Haunted by The Pogues to Martha by Tom Waits and In These Shoes by Kirsty MacColl, O’ Sullivan radiates a loving devotion to the work.
Yet each song from different eras and artists is channelled through O’Sullivan’s own distinctive raspy and intense vocal, an extraordinary instrument that is unmistakable and incredibly powerful. O’Sullivan uses it to impressive effect, exploring the range of belted, full-on performance and the softer, more intimate work of Sinéad O’Connor in particular as she sings My Darling Child in a white spotlight with little accompaniment. O’Sullivan also plays with the microphone, sometimes using it to ear-ringing effect while occasionally not using it at all to create softer, quieter moments that add drama and her own shape to the covers.
Loveletter itself is a little haphazard, something which is part of its charm or at least a feature that the singer utilises to build audience rapport. The specific song choices get little explanation, just adoration of their artists, and O’Sullivan moves in and out of her own memories, with fleeting mentions of life in Cork, her previous visits to London and meeting some of her idols. There are some throwaway references to her usual guitarist becoming a postman, to not looking like her poster and her broken shoes, but that doesn’t thread together to tell any particular story either about the star or her song choices.
And maybe that doesn’t matter; O Sullivan’s fans adore her potent mix of true artistry and vulnerability on stage, although the Soho Theatre main space feels wrong for this intimate cabaret where she should be able to freely roam among the tables and enchant the audience. Advertised as 90 minutes but running to two hours following a 15-minute delay and two encores, Loveletter is a show that demands more freedom for its performer; it doesn’t want to be hemmed in by a traditional auditorium but in a more comfortable space, better allowing the audience to worship O’Sullivan as she, in turn, worships her favourite music makers.
Runs until 6 December 2025
