STAGE REVIEW: All Or Nothing at the Forum Theatre, Malvern, on Tuesday and Wednesday, October 11 and 12, 2016.

THIS was the resulting explosion that detonated when black American street music met white English working class consciousness, a music given birth via an overdriven guitar and an attitude to match.

That’s right, talking about my generation, baby. It was an unforgettable era, a brief window in time when anything seemed possible… a much more peaceful form of fusion in a world threatened by nuclear suicide.

Back in the 1960s, it was a joy to be alive. And thanks to the dazzling creativity of writer Carol Harrison, we ageing baby boomers were briefly transported on the wings of some kind of psychedelic dragonfly back to those halcyon days when youth did indeed rule the planet.

This stunning show about the Small Faces and their charismatic front man Steve Marriott hits the spot with all the crash of a power chord bursting out of a Vox AC30 amp.

At times, it felt as if the intervening half-century had never happened, just a dream… perhaps it’s still 1966, you’re aged 18 with everything in front of you. Yes, this mod musical is that good, believe me.

This was the époque known as BC – Before Cowell – when spotty boys honed their guitar chords, formed bands, paid their dues in smoke-logged seedy clubs sporting carpets sticky with spilled keg beer, finally made millions… and then got ripped off by gangster managers.

Chris Simmons plays the part of the deceased Marriott, guiding us through the rock-strewn shoals of stardom. He is a ghost, never far from the shoulder of the young Steve, portrayed with alarming accuracy by Tim Edwards who plays electric guitar as if his life depended on it.

Along the way he encounters any number of rock reprobates, including pop impresario Don Arden (Russell Floyd), a man not to be trifled with, especially if you’re nervous of heights.

These actor-musicians know their craft inside-out. Edwards gets those trademark Marriott vocals off perfectly, the lyrics seamlessly dancing off the riffs as he rips into Whatcha Gonna Do About It, Sha La La La Lee, I’m Only Dreaming and of course the title song itself.

Back in 1967, a very inexperienced teenage reporter interviewed the Small Faces in a Rugby dance hall. This week, I was catapulted back to that far-off night… and you can’t say better than that, can you?

John Phillpott