Review: SALTY BRINE: THESE ARE THE CONTENTS OF MY HEAD (THE ANNIE LENNOX SHOW), Soho Theatre

“Fasten your seatbelts!” cries Salty Brine at the top of the show, “it’s going to be a bumpy ride!” He’s not wrong: watching him at work is like standing in the middle of a four-way road junction and being smashed over and over by cars from every direction. In a good way.

With lungs to spare, an ocean of creativity and an infectious smile that just won’t quit, this drag artiste from New York is up there with other cabaret geniuses like Reuben Kaye and Meow Meow (who returns to London next month). He already has form when it comes to splicing works of art together. His visit to London town in 2023 saw him performing in Soho Theatre’s basement cabaret bar, relaying the story of Mary Shelley’s book Frankenstein in between lounge-styled renditions of The Smiths and solo Morrissey tracks. The finale asked us who was the real “monster”: the controversial singer or those - including his many fans - that enable him.

This time around, Salty isn’t messing around. He’s returned to the same venue but has been promoted to the main theatre space. Rather than just being accompanied by a single keyboard as he was for Bigmouth Strikes Again – The Smiths Show, there’s now an entire band to help him work his way through Annie Lennox’s 1992 solo effort Diva and Judy Garland’s 1961 concert recording Judy at Carnegie Hall. The literary ingredient is Kate Chopin’s The Awakening, a novel that examines marital infidelity from the point of view of the wife. 

The biggest leap forward from what London saw of Bigmouth comes in the form of Ben Langhorst. The musical director initially plays bashful behind his baby grand but has no qualms whatsoever joining in the fun later on, either by dressing up to play one of Chopin’s characters or dueting with Salty. He orchestrates the band to within an inch of perfection, no mean feat in a show of this length and one which barely pauses for breath in between the songs and the storytelling.

In lesser hands, this would be a so-so cocktail of obvious connections, uninspired arrangements and another tedious screed dedicated to la Garland. Brine, though, is an experienced hand at this kind of thing as the creator of The Living Record Collection, a catalogue of past albums given fresh perspectives. With an open heart, he worships his personal divas inside out and celebrates the queer artists that have come before him. 

His evident adoration, though, doesn’t preclude him from re-inventing their work or using them as a starting point for his own creative endeavours. Chopin’s book was controversial in late-19th century America but - with its themes of frustrated sexuality and blocked ambitions in a world defined, designed and made by men - comes across as unoriginal to a modern ear with its strong echoes of A Doll’s House and Madame Bovary. Its melodramatic plotline makes for a far less engaging tale than Frankenstein but serves well to bring Brine’s early upbringing and his mother’s struggles and her failed marriage under the microsocope.

This musical jalopy is a masterpiece of fluent chaos, Brine’s hands confidently at the wheel even as it shifts back and forth from literature to music, occasionally swerving across the central reservation before working its way onto safer ground. The ball is dropped a couple of times: after accidentally clattering into one of the musicians and falling over his stand, he loses his place but quickly recovers; later, his attempts to seduce one of the men in the audience fall flatter than a glass of week-old beer.

He can be excused from the occasional physical calamity as he works a busy stage that isn’t helped by an extra row of round tables at the front. It’s an unusual setup which is intended to add a cabaret vibe but instead restricts the exuberant American to a smaller performance area. 

When the strands of These Are The Contents Of My Head come together, he weaves an epic tapestry. Its freewheeling nature often leaves a few threads fluttering but - in a show about how messy life can get - that’s no bad thing.