It’s the singer, not the song. Or, indeed, it’s the signer, not the song. In undercurrent and surtitles (and in, of course, its title), such is the theme of this joyous new play written and directed by Cora Bissett, adapted from she and Jamie Rea’s short film, with original music by KT Tunstall. It’s a pacy, sparkling account of a young deaf man’s passion for music, and his determination to songwrite and perform. In the words of the narrator of this vivid four-person piece: ‘Music is never owned by the ear. It belongs to the body.’ Likewise, performing on stage isn’t just the preserve of anyone who’s a ‘hearie’. 

Joe (co-screenwriter Rea) is a ‘deef ginger’ and lyricist in Glasgow who passionately signs the songs he can feel in his body, partly with the help of a haptic vest. Andy (Dylan Wood) is a failed recording artist but talented busker, plying the city streets with his acoustic guitar, soulful voice and rousing but (Joe thinks) vacuous self-written songs. Behind them and constantly moving around them are Joe’s grandparents (Hannah Jarrett-Scott, a hearie, and Petre Dobre, deaf). They also function as the Oracles, the play’s omniscient narrators, in both spoken English and British Sign Language, while also fulfilling various other character and musical roles.

After some fits and starts, Joe and Andy start writing together, with Joe the words man, Andy on the tunes. A buzz builds, the music industry that had previously rejected one-hit-wonder Andy comes crawling back and a date with destiny (aka the stage of Barrowland Ballroom) beckons. But then the partnership wobbles due to Andy’s ego and his messed-up private life (he’s struggling to be a dad to his four-year-old daughter, much to his ex-’s frustration). Meanwhile, Joe is fighting to save the local deaf centre from the usual landlord/development clusterfuck.

All of this drama is revealed by vividly dynamic, endlessly energetic staging. Those surtitle captions relate the dialogue for any hearing-challenged audience members, even signposting the onrushing songs (‘rippling fingerpicked guitar’; ‘strutting beat’; ‘elevated triumphant chorus’). The songs of Bissett’s fellow Fifer Tunstall (whose younger brother is deaf), as good as any she’s written for her albums or other stage projects, drive the plot smartly along. Jarrett-Scott, in particular, is a dynamo of accents, characters and singing/multi-instrumentalist skills. 

All of this is assuredly marshalled by Bissett, a music-savvy playwright who previously turned her own experiences in a band (90s indie outfit Darlingheart) into the hit play What Girls Are Made Of. Here are the highs and lows of songs, songwriting and performing, a soulful saga of dreams raised and crushed and reanimated. Music, says The Singer, belongs to all of us and all our senses, no matter how many we have.

The Singer, Lemon Tree, Aberdeen, Wednesday 9–Saturday 12 September; Citizens Theatre, Glasgow, Tuesday 15–Saturday 19 September; Dundee Rep, Wednesday 23–Saturday 26 September; reviewed at Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh.