The lights dim ever so slightly, as a boisterous announcer, clad in red military attire and three legs, shouts in a Dutch I can barely begin to understand. Despite this, the stands beside her erupt into applause and a group of five athletes jog on stage to start stretching. Only this isn’t any ordinary sports meet, and by the look of the instruments on-stage, this won’t be like any performance I’ve ever seen before.

This is One Song. Directed by Belgian artist Miet Warlop, this piece acts as the fourth in Dutch production company NTGENT’s Histoire(s) du Théâtre series, inviting directors to reflect and challenge the theatrical artform. Thankfully, not only has it made its way to Melbourne through the RISING Festival, but it does not require the viewing of any previous entries. Using the structure of a live sports competition, Warlop’s piece is, as it says on the tin, a single song played/strained by its performers for a full hour in length. It comments on, yet also challenges the futile nature of human action against mortality, through the strength found in community. In other words, can the indomitable human spirit truly withstand the indifferent cruelty of reality?

Across its entire runtime, all the musicians absolutely give it their all, acting both narratively and physically as athletes to push beyond what I thought possible. Performers are in constant motion or under physical pressure to even reach their instruments: a synth keyboard is only accessible from a springboard. Each part of the drum set is barely within stretching distance. The metronome and tempo of the performance constantly under change. I was able to track the sweat and exhaustion of each member practically through the entire show. These visuals perfectly capture the heightened stress of a musical performance, aided by extreme endurance of its performers throughout the movement’s many shifting parts and even its interruptions. Particularly notable is violinist Elisabeth Klinck, not only poised on the balance board through most of her set but also displays amazing multi-instrumental dexterity towards the end of the show.

The song’s second movement on the soundtrack, ‘In Your Head’, forms the basis for much of the performance, and it absolutely slaps. Revolving around the constant pressure of grief, the nihilistic lyrics shouted by vocalist Wietse Tanghe seem constantly challenged by the energetic work of its musicians. I found myself constantly amazed by how integral each and every member of the performance was to the sound of the song. The sounds of Dutch from the announcer intertwines with and extends the chorus, while even the stands’ chanting act as backing vocals to Tanghe’s ever shifting voice. It led to a completely immersive experience, where every action on stage felt impactful in some way. The exception to this for a long while was the cheerleader (Milan Schudel), who seemed to just compliment the piece with dancing, rather than actively contributing to the song’s construction. Many might find this antithetical to the performance’s conflicts around collaboration and action. Though I think this is challenged later in the performance, Schudel’s role is more so meant to represent the show's physicality and athletic imagery.

Another point of contention that’s going to come up is its length––a whole hour of just one song, played ad nauseam. I have to admit that I was ready to give up at a couple of points, but not out of boredom or irritation––there were enough changes to the song across the show to avoid that. Rather, to bring its message full circle, the show envelops the audience every vibration, every sound made on stage. In fact, towards the end of the show, the most dominant noise along the music track is a loud, boiling static, as if to demonstrate the incomprehensible torment of its athletes. It’s one example of the many brilliant audio and visual ideas used in the performance, which also includes water dripping from the ceiling to show the impact of drum beats. That said of course, this isn’t going to be a show for everyone. It is a gruelling trial at times, especially to those with highly sensitive hearing. But I can guarantee it’s never quite boring.

In many ways, One Song reminds me of taking the beep test in primary school –– a truly traumatising memory for some, I know. It was a loud, often tiring, and really long test of endurance. Unlike the beep test however, Warlop’s piece was always a complete joy to sit through. With its creative combination of musical instruments and performance physicality, One Song is a truly creative display of strength and community against impossible tasks.

A condensed album of the show’s soundtrack, ‘One Song Bugged From A Common Heartbeat’, is available across all major digital music distribution platforms and on vinyl through Miet Warlop’s Bandcamp.

Photographer credit: Tamarah Scott