Edinburgh Fringe comedy review

A rap-based show all about someone called Hamilton? That’ll never be a hit…

As probably the only woman in the UK who combines comedy and rap, Amelia Hamilton takes to the stage with suitable swagger, boasting of her talent and insisting ‘I don’t need your permission/you’re gonna sit up and listen.’

Thankfully that uber-confidence is short-lived – we want our comedians with frailties, thank you very much – even if she is fully entitled to be sure of her own talent, with sprightly, witty lyrics in every slickly delivered track.   

She jokes that she’s the show-offy product of a generation who are told they can do anything and have all the potential to fill their dreams. She’s got no real trauma, just two loving, supportive parents she’s delighted to be living with, even if she can affectionately mock her mum’s domestic catastrophising with a track about all the deathtraps she envisions around the house.

Hamilton’s got a clear skill for comedy raps but translating such talent into a fulfilling 60-minute show isn’t always easy, as others have found, though she has a decent stab at it.

That her rhymes are both joke-rich and musically sound ensure they’re integral to the comedy, not gimmicky, while Hamilton has something to say on greater themes, such as society’s underappreciation of women’s achievements and the pressures of leaving a legacy. Turns out being told you can be whatever you want to be only raises the pressure to fulfil those limitless expectations. 

These subjects come and go in a debut that – understandably – has all the hallmarks of a  greatest hits collection, even if that sometimes comes at the expense of consistency of tone or message.

For example, she can be biting for the sake of a joke if needs be, but always quickly reverts to her buoyant, charming self. ‘There are two types of men and I hate both,’ is a great line, but there is no real belief behind it, or at least none that comes across. Indeed, one of her stand-out raps wishes ill on her ex, but only in the most comically minor ways.

Her airy, girl-next-door demeanour can also mean some of her set-ups are woolly, more of a conversation than a tight way of navigating the quickest route to the next ideas and gags. 

The route into her fine rap about Women In STEM is particularly convoluted when it doesn’t need to be. And while the link between this and her broader topic is tenuous at best – as is a stand-up bit about sexualised terminology of ‘daddy’ and ‘baby’ – they are both good enough segments on their own merits. 

Towards the end, she wraps things together neatly with an apparently sincere rap about being in the moment – though it does get undermined at the end – and an anti-motivational speech with a strong nihilistic message. The message is that potential is so overrated. 

Which is a shame because I really, really want to say that she’s got bags of the stuff.  

Review date: 1 Aug 2025
Reviewed by: Steve Bennett
Reviewed at: Pleasance Courtyard