Lady Carol Must Die

Aged five, Lady Carol tried to murder her father. Their relationship has only gone downhill from there. The bad blood between this tanned bully and his hyperphotosensitive daughter powers an emotional hour of music and rumination.

Recalling songstresses like Etta James, Lady Carol couples a powerful voice with an intense vulnerability. From revealing her stage fright to her unflinchingly personal stories, she gives the impression of simply feeling things too deeply. There is real emotion here and, at especially fraught moments, both the performer and the audience are fighting back tears. Yet the emotion doesn’t come from the music.

Between songs, Carol’s retelling of her family history is lilting and funny, but the feelings are raw. Noting that her father is not on stage to defend himself, she feels the need to balance every one of his bad aspects with one of her own. The result is exhausting. Lady Carol voices both sides of bitter arguments, internalising every criticism, self-deconstructing right in front of you.

By contrast, her commanding singing voice does not admit the same self-doubt, occasionally slipping into plain loudness. Compared to the excoriating and brutal recrimination, familiar songs from Art Garfunkel and Elton John provide a chance to breathe, rather than being cathartic in themselves. The show is powerful, but not exactly in the way intended.

Nevertheless, a performance this brave must be respected. Wrenching and ultimately rewarding for the audience, Lady Carol doesn’t die, but she certainly puts herself through the wringer.