During a business trip, I made a last-minute decision to see TINA: The Tina Turner Musical at the Golden Gate Theatre in San Francisco. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I knew Tina Turner, of course, but only really recognized a couple of songs — “What’s Love Got to Do with It?” and “Private Dancer.” I had thought “Proud Mary” belonged to Elvis Presley, not realizing it originated from Creedence Clearwater Revival and was reimagined by Ike & Tina Turner. I browsed a few musical numbers online before the show but didn’t feel drawn in. I went with the mindset of simply enjoying the stage, not knowing that the experience would stay with me.

The band played behind the stage, so orchestra pit seats were added, and I sat in the second row — directly above the covered pit. As the show began with a sudden “Doo-doo-doong,” my seat vibrated with a low, physical resonance. People around me exchanged surprised looks, some already moving to the rhythm. The sound felt 4D — the kind of presence that shakes your body before your ears even register it.

The actress portraying Tina didn’t try to imitate her. She was athletic and graceful, with defined muscles and her own stage presence. Her voice was different — not gravelly or raw like Tina’s — but powerful in its own way. She made the role her own, and I respected her for it.

Act I surprised me. I found myself tearing up at moments I hadn’t expected — the woman next to me, too, wiped her eyes. The struggles with Tina’s mother, her turbulent marriage, and the years of hardship that followed were almost too painful. The scenes flowed fast, but the impact was heavy.

Some scenes were playful and witty — the exaggerated British accent of one character had to be “translated” into American English, drawing laughter from the crowd. Little Tina was outstanding, with a rich, deep voice and expressive physicality. The grandmother also had a strong vocal presence.

Musically, the transition between mic types was striking — when actors sang with lavalier mics, it felt intimate, almost like hearing them speak directly. But with stand mics, the sound exploded across the whole theater. The old radio sound effects came from above, echoing nostalgia. I felt lucky to sit where I could notice these sound details.

And the ensemble? They grooved. It reminded me of what I missed during other shows — the soulfulness that’s hard to replicate. As with the Fates in Hadestown, it hit me again: there’s something about this kind of vocal energy and rhythm that just isn’t easy to find elsewhere. When River Deep – Mountain High began, the audience erupted. The emotion of that number filled the theater like a tidal wave.

By the time “Proud Mary” arrived at curtain call, the theater was transformed. Everyone stood, shouted, danced, sang. I joined them, caught up in the collective release.

Outside, the streets of San Francisco felt quiet and wide. The theater crowd quickly disappeared — some walking, others catching the trolley or a bus. It wasn’t New York. It had a different rhythm. But in that quiet, I felt full — like I had witnessed something strong and joyful.