Presented by Tom Oakes / Brite Theater

Review by Dominic Corr

George Mackay Brown Library at Scottish Storytelling Centre

In the chaotic, hyper-commercial swirl of the Edinburgh Fringe, true radicalism often arrives in the quietest guises. Nestled within the refuge of the Scottish Storytelling Centre (a haven of talent away from the machine of the Fringe), Forge -presented by Brite Theatre and multi-instrumentalist Tom Oakes – offers a deeply affecting, quiet space for reflection. A follow-up from their previous piece, Hearth, this is a performance that operates less like a theatrical spectacle and more like an intimate, shared sanctuary.

At the heart of the piece is Oakes’ extraordinary musical finesse, delivered with a delightfully disarming, unassuming charm. Operating as a storyteller, collector, and musician, Oakes weaves a tapestry of traditional folk tunes, modern compositions, and field recordings into a living dialogue about displacement, heritage, and survival. The production’s overarching power lies in its thematic resonance: it treats song not as a static museum artifact, but as an active vessel of memory and resistance. In breathing fresh life into ancient melodies—from Irish Famine-era ballads to Palestinian folk music—Forge insists that remembering those who came before us is a vital act of defiance, most notably located in the mixture of voice sampkes from ‘Queen of the Gypsises’ Caroline Hughes, ahead of Oake’s take on Sheep-Crook and Black Dog.

This sense of personal history gives the show its emotional weight. Oakes effortlessly bridges the global with the intimately local, interleaving historical narratives of migration alongside tender compositions written for his young daughter and warm, affectionate nods to Edinburgh’s own green spaces. The sound design is delicately layered, merging archival voices with live instrumentation in a way that feels organic rather than scholarly. But it’s within the relationship and directness in which Oakes promotes the Palestine Museum Scotland in Edinburgh, spoken in conjucture with the writings of Mohammed Al-Bardawili which acts as the productions crux of resiliancem and gives life and weight to a genocide and cause too often treated with a contempt, and ‘farness’ by media and persons.

If the production stumbles at all, it is in its structural looseness. The casual, conversational framework – while crucial to establishing the show’s welcoming atmosphere – can occasionally feel a little too sprawling, allowing the dramatic tension to slacken during the narrative shifts between musical sets. A slightly tighter dramaturgical hand could weave these disparate strands into an even more cohesive theatrical arc. These are minor quibbles in what remains a deeply moving and intellectually engaging hour. Forge is a beautiful, thought-provoking testament to the power of spoken word and oral storytelling, as much as instrumental, offering a rare moment of genuine warmth, solidarity, and musical excellence that lingers.

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