Utilising the death of his hero Muhammed Ali as a lyrical springboard, Omar Musa confronts suburban violence, lost love, his Malaysian heritage, and the dark realities of growing up as a brown-skinned Muslim boy in Queanbeyan.

And in this one-man show this one man, this large man with this large stage presence, steps lightly, like Ali, between verses of poetry and rap and storytelling.

And this one-man show is not a “one-man show” because a “one-man show” sounds like an art wank; an eisteddfod piece.

And Musa is not blowing smoke up his own chimney, though he affords every right to do so.

Omar Musa is – something else.

He is a poet and a rapper and a questioner of faith and a Muslim and “a brown man on a black land stolen by white men.”

He is a voice not often heard on stage, though he should be.

With a fresh perspective on contemporary Australia, the work is politically charged.

Politically charged but not aggressive.

Politically charged but not forceful.

Largely autobiographical, the work is moving and effective because it comes from a place of lived experience; a place of truth.

We encounter characters who subvert the stereotypical image of immigrants painted for us by white Australia.

There’s the Malay-Muslim father with the red-crimson eyes.

There’s the tender mother who teaches her “beautiful boy” to question everything.

There’s the loyal childhood accomplice; a victim of something more cynical than circumstance.

There’s Omar, and – in a white shirt and black jeans and without props – Omar is powerful.

A blackbox theatre is one of my favourite places for performances.

There are no distractions, just you and the performer.

It’s where you get that feeling of a “real” connection that only live theatre can give you.

With Omar Musa’s “Since Ali Died” there are so many connections to make.

Omar Musa is a poet, rapper and artist.

Ranging from love, family and best friends to modern politics, “Since Ali Died” is a reflection on contemporary Australia.

His combination of spoken word poetry, storytelling, rap, social commentary, even what seems improvised stand up comedy range in emotion from tender and sad to laugh-out-loud funny and angry.

Bookended and interspersed with the references to the great Muhammad Ali, “Since Ali Died” is less a bio of the boxer and more about Musa’s own search for identity.

A brown man living on black land in a white country is a rich tapestry from which to write poetry.

A highlight for me was his “UnAustralian” poem written in response to internet trolls but more broadly than that calling out how our so-called Australian values are so often hijacked by identity politics.

There’s also a hilarious riff on Mark Latham, the once leader of the ALP now leading the populist groundswell of One Nation in NSW.

There is also another and perhaps more intimate side to Musa – when he sings about being ghosted, when he laments the fate of his best friend, when he talks about his father, and most poignant of all – a car ride with his mother.

Critics have long lamented the downfall of poetry in the modern world but one need only see Musa in action to know that poets will always speak aloud what lies in our soul.

If you’re looking for 70 minutes of pure “feel good” fantasy vibes, this show isn’t for you.

Performing alone, using a mix of spoken word and rap and singing, Omar Musa recounts his struggles of growing up in Australia (namely, small rural town Queanbeyan) as a Muslim male.

The performance is beautifully raw, and Omar has a brilliant intelligence when it comes to choice of words, flowing easily from him like he’s just chatting to mates.

Normally a spoken word performance would scare me off, with a perception of the art form as being inaccessible but Omar has a knack of putting you at ease and making his experiences relatable – even though my upbringing as a middle-class white female clearly isn’t the same lived experience as him.

The narrative of the performance delivered by Omar prompts you to check your privilege, and encourages you to literally question everyone and everything you’ve ever been told.

The performance is delivered with so much emotion – the highs and the lows – and thrown in are the occasional tears and belly laughs – from both Omar and audience members alike.

Highly recommended work – one I’d happily see over and over again (so good in fact I bought Omar’s CD post-performance!).