A little spitfire of a songstress has entered the forum of the Fringe, bound for greatness – or so she hopes. It’s the night of her big break, and while vamping waiting for a call from her producer, good-girl-gone-bad rocker Tamar Broadbent gives us a view into her rise to fame.
Fresh, exciting and absolutely unique, Tamar’s hilarious blend of clever, sharp-witted lyrics, at times nearly groan-worthy puns and painfully awkward accounts of her family and first loves create a concert worthy of Spinal Tap. An absolutely adorable pixie of a girl, Tamar has the whole package, with lightning fast comedic strokes, side-splitting timing, and an impressive set of pipes. Ms. Broadbent, her own one-man band on vocals and keyboard, regales us with her love of all things maths and music, her years as a hard core rapper and her unfortunate first romance with Rick, whose name has a surprising number of rhyming options. Yet this is a show in large part devoid of smut, utilising the shocking moments of comic filth to wring out every bit of irony, juxtaposed against this angel-faced dynamo.
This journey is a freight train of hilarity, with little time to stop and take it in. Just jump aboard and hang on tight. The musical puns come in rapid succession from her love of the cosine rule to her turn as a pint sized, bleach blonde punk badass from Surrey. In the hands of this gifted comic, every nerd rock cliché is manipulated with mastery. Like so many of us, her journey includes many a pitfall; even falling in love with a drummer.
Every element of the show is spot on to support this tour-de-force performance, from truly innovative and surprisingly musically complex songs to truly awful dance moves, anecdotes about her unique and inspirational family of eccentrics, years of ‘paying her dues’ and even a nice helping of audience interaction. By the end, you too will find yourself on your feet cheering for this tiny hopeful pop princess to make it big.
