The Sound Of Absence ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

When Lenore’s father passes away, she is overcome with memories and rage forcing her to confront her identity and belonging. In order to rebuild herself, Lenore embarks on a solitary journey through time accompanied by poetry and a mysterious doppelganger-pianist. A hauntingly new experimental musical theatre piece, The Sound of Absence explores the intricate bond between father and daughter — and the unspoken reasons behind the choices our parents make.

This intimate, experimental musical theatre piece feels incredibly personal. At its heart, it’s about grief, memory, and that complicated but unbreakable bond between a father and daughter. It doesn’t follow a tidy, traditional storyline. Instead, it drifts between moments, much like memory does. Past and present blur together, things feel sharp one second and distant the next, and you’re asked to just sit with that rather than have it all neatly explained.

From the start, there’s an openness to it that’s quite disarming. The staging is simple, just a piano and a small cast in the space. No big set, no spectacle. And honestly, it’s better for it. Nothing gets in the way of the relationship at the centre of the story. You’re not distracted by anything unnecessary. It feels stripped back in a way that really works.

The props are minimal too, but clearly chosen with care. Nothing feels random. When something appears on stage, it means something. You get the sense that every detail has been thought through, but not in a showy way. It all serves the story.

The lighting is subtle but really effective. Gentle shifts help move us between memories and present day moments without making a fuss about it. There’s no dramatic overuse of shadow or colour. It just quietly supports what’s happening, which suits the tone perfectly.

Sound is handled beautifully for such an intimate setting. Everything feels balanced. You can hear every note, every breath, without ever feeling overwhelmed. It draws you in rather than pushing at you.

The piano really is the heartbeat of the whole thing. The music moves between soft, delicate moments and something much more aching and emotional. Some of the strongest scenes are the quiet ones, where the piano carries everything. The show isn’t afraid of silence either. It lets moments land. It gives you space to feel what’s just happened.

Yanina Hope is genuinely moving as the daughter. Her performance feels truthful and grounded. You can see the vulnerability, the frustration, the love, the hurt, and it never tips into melodrama. It feels very real.

Valadyslav Kuznetsov at the piano is much more than an accompanist. His playing feels like another character in the room. He responds to the shifts in the story with such sensitivity that the music and the acting feel completely intertwined.

What I appreciated most is how the piece handles grief. It doesn’t push for big emotional outbursts. Instead, it focuses on the quieter, more familiar parts of loss. The way memories change over time. The things left unsaid. The love that’s still there, even when things were never perfect. The father and daughter relationship isn’t romanticised. It’s messy and complicated, which makes it all the more affecting.

The fragmented structure might not be for everyone, but it makes sense for a story about memory. It feels deliberate rather than self indulgent.

Overall, this is a thoughtful, heartfelt piece of theatre. It’s not trying to dazzle you. It’s trying to connect with you. And in its quiet, understated way, it really does. It stays with you long after it ends.

🎟️ Book tickets while it’s running until 28th February! https://www.omnibus-clapham.org/sound-of-absence/