I had never seen a song cycle before attending the opening night of Ghost Quartet at the Hayes Theatre Co, and when asked by people in my life who are not involved in theatre what exactly it was, I found it really hard to describe. I struggled to explain it because, by their nature, song cycles are conceptual and often experimental—they can be whatever the creatives want them to be, as they don’t adhere to strict conventions. Sitting in the audience, watching four profoundly talented multi-instrumentalists (one of whom handed out a percussion instrument), I found myself asking, "What even is theatre anyway?" After watching Ghost Quartet, I’ve come up with an analogy to explain a song cycle: it is like a poem to a novel—the feeling of a story rather than the story itself—and this one just so happens to be epic.
The staging as you enter evokes the vibe of an antique shop or the parlour of an eccentric bohemian in the 70s, with bric-à-brac and dark wooden furniture that radiates warmth. There is a distinct cosiness in the creative team’s choices. Having the performers on stage warming up, interacting with friends and family, and playing music is a deliberate attempt to disarm and invite. Director Brandon Pape wants you to settle in and enjoy. Pape’s decision to involve the audience in performing parts of songs provided wonderful breaks in tension and, for me, led to a beautiful reflective moment at the conclusion of the piece. I won’t spoil it, as it was genuinely delightful and surprising.
The most poignant moment for me came with the choice to turn the lights off entirely. During this section, all light is removed from the space, leaving the audience in complete darkness while the songs continue, occasionally punctuated by the flicking of smaller lights. Firstly, I was amazed by the cast’s ability to continue playing in pitch-black darkness. Secondly, the length of time spent in the dark borders on uncomfortable—but I think that’s the point. It felt like guided meditation or sensory deprivation, with the artists drawing out ideas through their voices and allowing my mind to assemble the imagery.
The titular quartet is made up of four truly astounding multi-instrumentalist performers. Cameron Bajraktarevic-Hayward, David Butler, Hany Lee, and Willow Sizer work together so well that their voices blend into a sound much richer than you’d expect from just four people. The success of this sound is a credit to Butler, who is also the Musical Director, and it’s clear how much rehearsal and rapport has gone into creating this performance. Cameron Bajraktarevic-Hayward’s voice cuts through beautifully, and I wished he was featured in more songs. However, his instrumental contributions were vital, adding richness to the harmonies. Willow Sizer’s voice has a quality that feels otherworldly or timeless. This feeling was enhanced by well-executed vocal effects, though I was equally drawn to their expressiveness as a performer. Hany Lee, alongside Sizer, carried the heavy lifting vocally, and honestly, I could listen to her on repeat. The tone and quality of her voice are magnificent, and she brings so much energy to her performance.
Ghost Quartet is non-linear and, at times, abstract, but this allows the cast and creatives room to truly perform and play. Just like the best poetry showcases a writer’s skill without relying on plot or distractions, this song cycle succeeds because the artists on and off stage are simply excellent at what they do.
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