The ukulele – a small, four-stringed member of the guitar family – is becoming ever more ubiquitous in modern popular music. It’s difficult to separate the instrument’s ascendancy from the rise to fame of The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain, an eclectic octet of musicians formed in 1985. I went along to meet them before their recent gig in London, with the intention of finding out what exactly it is that makes the sound of the diminutive chordophone so contagious.

Sitting in on the sound check with their manager, Jodie, is almost as entertaining as the show itself. As we watch the band members jibe each other playfully and launch into occasional impromptu solos, Jodie confides that “the ukulele is an approachable instrument”. While admitting that she doesn’t play the ukulele herself, she extols it virtues as if she did. “It’s rewarding… you can achieve a high standard in a shorter amount of time than with other instruments”.

She tells me how the ukulele has opened up the world of music to people who wouldn’t otherwise have had the confidence to pick up an instrument. The orchestra has a markedly inclusive approach: it has performed to a sold-out Royal Albert Hall at the BBC Proms in 2009, but has also shared a far smaller stage with a group of ukulele-playing pensioners who “just played a C if they weren’t too sure”.

Our conversation is abruptly cut off by the beginning of the rehearsal proper. I soon realise that, for all the self-deprecating banter and easy-going attitude, these performers have considerable musical talent, and moreover are very attuned to each other. The diverse individual voices blend with the twang of skilful strumming and plucking to create a melodic, wonderfully arranged sound. Set highlights include a cover of The Who’s ‘Pinball Wizard’ (in the style of a sea shanty), ‘Teenage Kicks’ by The Undertones, Ennio Morricone’s theme for The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly, and a fantastic mash-up that includes everything from Handel to Frank Sinatra, via Gloria Gaynor.

Backstage after the sound check, I am invited into a dressing room to have a chat with the band’s two female members, Hester Goodman and Kitty Lux. The others are off changing into their trademark black tie dress code; they are an orchestra, and like to dress accordingly.

I ask how, after more than twenty years together at the forefront of the popularisation of the ukulele, the performers’ attitudes toward their instrument has changed since the group’s foundation. “People used to laugh. No one knew what it was”, Kitty recalls, explaining that the warm reception the ukulele enjoys today has not always been the norm. In the past, support was contained mainly in “small pockets of enthusiasm”. Hester recalls one angry letter they received from someone who had taken offence at their version of Eric Coates’s ‘The Dambusters’, mistaking their playful attitude for outright disrespect.

The UOGB is indeed good at deflating the pretentiousness and injecting whimsy into the music that it covers. During their evening performance, they somehow manage to sing the words “I am an Antichrist” (during their version of ‘Anarchy In The UK’) and come off sounding clean. I wonder whether there are any songs which they consider “too sacred” for the ukulele treatment. “You can make anything ‘go’ on the ukulele”, explains Kitty. “But some things seem to work better and are more worthwhile to play… probably because they’re just better written”.

Their appearance at the Proms last year was a career high, and the fulfilment of a long-held dream. Their performance was the first and only late-night Prom to sell out entirely; what’s more, in a ground-breaking show of ukulele player solidarity, they were joined by a thousand audience members for an ecstatic rendition of ‘Ode To Joy’. When I ask Hester and Kitty how it felt to fill the Royal Albert Hall with Ukuleles, a smile passes between them: “It was a real accolade”, grins Hester. “There was a moment where people started waving ukuleles above their heads… it felt incredible”. Yet their career hasn’t peaked just yet. “We’ve sold out the Carnegie Hall in New York for the second of November!”, they exclaim. Not bad for an instrument that, until recently, was often mistaken for a toy guitar.

As the play opens one is presented with a somewhat bewildering array of actors littered across the stage and the mood, set by some well-chosen music, is convincingly sombre. If I had to describe the opening atmosphere in a word it would be ‘lugubrious’, which, to my mind, is something of a testament to Director Tatiana Hennessy’s skill.

One realises immediately that this is a play without ornament or gimmick and so relies heavily on its cast. In the face of such pressure, this cast perform admirably. The dynamic achieved between Jack Peter’s Hark and Timothy Coleman’s Dido is utterly convincing but some of Dido’s camper moments leave a little to be desired. Aidan Russel’s Seph, however, deserves special mention: that a character, even when not speaking, can be so believable, is a triumph. Lucy Fyffe, a talented actress as it is, has a pleasing resemblance to Sinéad O’Connor, which, although by a perhaps somewhat asinine logic, gives the feeling that she is right for the part. Moya Hughes too looks the part but also has couple of moments of endearingly real performance.

Indeed the entire cast, when there are moments of cheerfulness, succeed in making it look forced, which, rather than being a veiled criticism, is genuine compliment because their characters would surely have had to have forced themselves to be cheerful. Furthermore, if there was one character whose cheerfulness seemed more genuine, it would be Dido, which again works well with the commentary that the play attempts to achieve. The staples of good drama such as a slap and the all-important kiss are polished and well-executed, even if the slap might have been overplayed to the detriment of Jack Peter’s face and the kiss underplayed to the detriment of the voyeur.

One cannot escape, however, the political element to this play: set in the aftermath of Bloody Sunday in Derry, there are striking parallels drawn to the events surrounding the release of the Saville Inquiry. Some may remember the ceremony where the victims’ names were read by relatives who finally felt as if they had some closure, which contrasts sharply with the limbo-state the characters find themselves in. There are deeper truths to be found in this play too: as the director put it, ‘The play has some pretty powerful things to say about facing up to the truth – all of the characters are in some way lying to each other and to themselves, and ultimately what makes the play so redemptive is that they all come to appreciate the importance of facing up to things – ‘living with what you’ve done’, as one of them says. I also chose it because I think it deals powerfully and beautifully with the way we as individuals deal with grief, balancing raw outbursts with humour and even poetry and song.’

This production of ‘Carthaginians’ promises to be a highlight of the Michaelmas term, and the entire cast and crew are to be commended.

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Saturday – Self proclaimed Jesus – Urska Mali

Friday – Broad Street – William Granger

Thursday – End of summer – Sonali Campion

Wednesday – Road Works – Lauri Saksa

Tuesday – Graffiti outside Magdalen – William Granger

Monday – Christchurch meadow – Maryam Ahmed

Sunday – Hello from Paris – Jessica Benhemou

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Protesting – Joseph Carauna

Yelling – Joseph Carauna

Filming – Joseph Carauna

Shocking Brutality – Lauri Saksa

Let the Rad Cam hear it – Lauri Saksa

Message to the world – Lauri Saksa

Turn Oxford into Paris – Lauri Saksa

Confrontation – Lauri Saksa

Reinforcements – Jason Sengel

Disapproving – Jason Sengel

Anger – Alex Lunt

Barricade – Alex Lunt

Queue – Alex Lunt

Police Photographer – Jake Galson

Appeal for Calm – Sonali Campion

Cheif Agitator – Sonali Campion

It’s My Future – Sonali Campion

Rude – Urska Mali

Climbing a sign – Urska Mali

I agreed with Nick – Urska Mali

Interview – Niina Tamura