Miley, Moon Unit and Me

With a quick reference to Father’s Day, Tegan Jones presents a show about the musical connections (and more) between dads and daughters – that’s why ‘Miley’ gets into the title: Miley Cyrus is the daughter of Billy Ray.  And Moon Unit is the daughter – yes, really - of Frank Zappa.  Tegan Jones’ Dad is not a musician, but he has given his daughter a love of music that goes way beyond recognising a tune, singing along or tapping your foot.  He’s the kind of enthusiast that buys recordings of every production of Les Miserables – and then he and Tegan make a composite of the best version of each song.  That anecdote sparks a re-enactment of the at-the-barricades trio from Les Miz – with Ms Jones playing all three roles in three different voices – although at thirteen she longed to be Eponine.  

The bond with her Dad makes the songs they shared special and significant.  She sings a twenty-nine song (her count, not mine!) medley – contemporary and ‘classics’.  There are transitions like a high wire act, but she never wobbles – and it’s hugely entertaining nostalgic fun.  Maybe not all the songs are quite suitable for her voice – or maybe that’s just the way she chooses to sing them – but they are rare.  With some of the big, show-stopper numbers, you can see her almost shiver with pleasure.  Before one song, she murmurs (and it seems involuntarily), ‘God, I love this song!’

It’s her ability as a singer and her love for the songs - and her visible enjoyment and thrill in singing them - that lifts this show above the lame ‘Dad jokes’ and its totally no frills presentation.  Apart from a number of lighting changes, that do feel a bit arbitrary, Ms Jones eschews glamour.  Her wardrobe is as if she just dropped round for a cuppa and the sports shoes are such a mistake I was momentarily distracted.  Her relationship with her pianist, Hana Zreikar, however, is another pleasure of the show: there’s a warm little conspiracy going on across the top of that upright piano.  Ms Zreikar is not above a sceptical raise of an eyebrow when Ms Jones takes gush to new heights, but on the whole she’s the whole-hearted supporter who loves these tunes too.

As the show draws to a close, Ms Jones’ choices are more sombre as she reprises songs about fathers by Amy Winehouse and Eva Cassidy – both, of course, no longer with us.  When she channels Ella Fitzgerald, she hits her straps – and it’s no mere mimicry.  Overall, the show is so direct, so natural and unforced, that a bond forms between Ms Jones and the audience, via the music, rather like the bond between Tegan and her Dad.

Michael Brindley