A Kurt Cobain tribute woven with spoken word performance and an intensely mystical energy, No Apologies is a defiant act of rebellion fuelled by love, loss, anger and fear. It was first performed on a day filled with all this and more; the day the Supreme Court hearings ceased to recognise trans lives as legitimate. At a time when trans identity is in constant debate and trans existence is deemed political, Emma Frankland brings to the stage a semi-autobiographic, semi-fictional, entirely vulnerable production. From the offset of her performance Frankland reels you in with a casual confidence, she is flippantly funny and effortlessly genuine.
A faded rug sits centre stage with an eclectic assortment of tour boxes, guitars and faux greenery strewn across. It half looks like a rehearsal studio, and half like a tarot-readers den. Frankland strolls on stage dressed identically like Kurt Cobain at the 1993 MTV Music Awards, even down to the infamous cigarette burn on her cardigan.
Her script is poetry, it’s beautifully raw, powerful and, as suggested in the title, unapologetic. Frankland describes the nostalgia of her 90s adolescence; first listening to Kurt Cobain on her Walkman, feeling like everything was finally right in the world. Cobain was an artist that troubled gender in ways which made Frankland vibrate; when she wore dresses on stage, she really wore them, she sang about wanting tits and not feeling connected to her body as it was, and she died in a way so tragically common in the trans community. Kurt Cobain might not have been trans, at least not openly, but Frankland saw a part of herself in her that she couldn’t find anywhere else. She contends with how different her life might’ve looked if she’d had a trans role model to look towards. How different might millions of other queer lives have looked too?
‘We dream ourselves into being because we lack the history to guide us.’
Photo credit – © The Schmidt Photography @the__schmidt_photography on Instagram
Frankland grieves for Kurt Cobain, and for the millions of queer elders who never could be openly out, because authenticity has always come at a cost. Frankland’s words won’t leave you; they’ll sink right into your core. She is beautiful, she is an icon, and she is untouchable.
Reviewer: Ella Beckley
Reviewed: 12th November 2026
Theatre Muse UK Rating: *****
