Some people wind down with the sunset. I do the opposite. My mind kicks into gear just as everything else begins to power down. I’ve always been like that. As a kid, I learnt piano and developed a love of music from my Grandfather, who was even more of a night owl than me – perhaps the nocturnal gene skipped a generation and came to me. Even as a baby, I was wide awake while everyone else dozed. My parents even sent me to what they called “bad baby sleeping school”. It didn’t work, and if anything, I have just leaned further into my night owl tendencies over the years.
This year, I’m bringing Basically Nocturnal to Edinburgh Fringe. The show explores the strange freedom that emerges when the noise of the day dies down. I’m certainly not alone in my nocturnal habits. Around one in three adults in the UK experience sleep issues. However, it’s not a show about insomnia or sleep disorders. It’s about what happens because we’re awake when others aren’t. It’s a love letter to the thoughts, memories and stories that stir in the sleepless hours. Those strange, thrilling moments when the rules of daytime don’t seem to apply, and imagination runs untethered.
Australian born, I have recently moved to London, but Basically Nocturnal first took flight in Australia at the Melbourne Cabaret Festival. It featured a full band and an array of soundscapes, synths, and storytelling. It went on to tour around Australia, evolving with each performance. Unfortunately, many performance dates were cancelled due to the pandemic, so bringing this show to Edinburgh Fringe feels a little bit like unfinished business. The show is cabaret, but not in the rhinestone-and-feather sense. It’s me singing and playing from a keyboard, sharing music, stories, and the odd moment of spontaneous chaos with whoever’s in the room. If someone calls out, I’ll probably answer. The atmosphere is intimate and a little mischievous. I’m also joined by an electric cellist who loops their own sound and uses other effects to generate soundscapes that accompany the stories.
I’ve always been a night owl — that part hasn’t changed. When I was at drama school studying to be a performer, I began to develop a bit of a bad habit (or a good habit… depending on your outlook!). Instead of your usual partying that you would normally take part in during your early twenties, a few of my close friends would gather in my Brisbane apartment in Australia, sprawled out on the floor, a pile of cushions and empty teacups between us. (I’ve never been much of a drinker — unless we’re talking about black tea, no sugar, in which case… I’m a borderline addict.) It became a kind of ritual. These were the hours we saved for our best stories — the ones you couldn’t quite share in daylight. We would be up till the sun rose. That ritual, that rhythm of night-time storytelling, became the seed for Basically Nocturnal.
For a period of time, I was also a regular voice on JOY 94.9 FM, Australia’s LGBTQIA+ radio station. There was something about the late-night slots — the quiet intimacy of radio after dark — that mirrored the feeling of Basically Nocturnal. Just like in the show, it was about connection, storytelling, and sharing something honest when the world wasn’t quite paying attention. Night-time radio, much like cabaret, lets you speak directly and freely — and there’s real power in that.
Much of the music within Basically Nocturnal is original; however, one of the few covers in the show is Mr Tanner by Harry Chapin. It tells the true story of a man who had a beautiful voice but stopped singing after a single bad review. Despite the audience’s love, one critic’s harsh words silenced him. In my version, I perform it with piano, cello, and layered sound — including a recording of that original review and Mr Tanner’s voice. It’s a heartbreaking story, one that reminds us how fragile creativity can be. The night gives us freedom, yes — but when that freedom is threatened, it can vanish fast. It’s a reminder of how fragile our creative safety can be and how much braver it is to share than to stay silent.
Overall, the show lives in that uniquely nocturnal space, completely night-fuelled. There’s a song about a disastrous speed dating night that spirals into an even worse marriage proposal, an urban legend of a ghost train brought to life with sound and more.
Basically Nocturnal is a celebration of the night, of the thoughts we don’t say out loud during the day, of the creativity that lives in the quiet. It’s very funny, honest and always fuelled by the magic and freedom that only seems to exist after dark.
Basically Nocturnal runs 30 July – 25 August 2025 at Blether at Gilded Balloon Patter House, 3 Chambers Street, Edinburgh EH1 1HT, United Kingdom.
