By Rose Chaplin, Fourth-Year English
Sutara Gayle’s one-woman show stuns from its opening moments, guiding the audience through a rich, restless journey of music, memory and homage. Centred around a towering soundsystem that recalls her early career as reggae deejay Lorna Gee, the production pulses with dub-heavy bass while the simple staging — just a table and two chairs — holds the piece in intimate balance.
‘The show captures the evolution of trauma and the process of surrendering to memory, turmoil and truth’
Across a little over an hour, Gayle leaps dynamically through decades: opening for reggae giants like Shabba Ranks, winning an award in New York, navigating industry exploitation, drug use, her own sexual awakening, and the grappling with weight of ancestral legacy. Framed by a silent retreat that prompts her to plunge through her own chronology, the show captures the evolution of trauma and the process of surrendering to memory, turmoil and truth.
‘Moments of humour […] sit alongside public pain, including scenes from Holloway prison and footage of her sister Cherry’s shooting, which ignited the Brixton riots’
Moments of humour — a West Country taxi driver, a chance encounter with Linton Kwesi Johnson that inspired ‘Mi Giro’ — sit alongside public pain, including scenes from Holloway prison and footage of her sister Cherry’s shooting, which ignited the Brixton riots. Gayle honours her mother’s migration from Jamaica to England, the difficulty of assimilation, her own coming-out, the birth of her son, and the fierce lineage of ancestors, from the Nanny Queen of the Maroons to spiritual guide and brother Mooji.
The show’s wide musical range — from tender piano laments to bold, floor-shaking reggae numbers — underscores Gayle’s command of tone and emotional texture. With no cast to support her and minimal staging to signal transitions, the audience becomes entirely reliant on her seamless shifts in accent, posture and physical energy to locate each moment in time. These transformations are so fluid and precise that they function as their own kind of choreography, allowing Gayle to move effortlessly between eras, personas and emotional states while keeping the audience anchored in her unfolding story.
Compelling, disorientating and deeply human, The Legends of Them is both fragmented and fluid, layering voices, selves and years. It is at once an act of remembrance and a fierce celebration of survival. Gayle is, quite simply, born for the stage.
Featured image: Lorna Gee / Steve Rapport
Will you go to see Legends of Them?
