‘A Closer Walk’ praises her songs

For fans of the country-music legend (and I count myself enthusiastically in that camp), that’s a pretty sweet dream. For those looking for an actual play, however, this musical tribute by Dean Regan may drive you a little bit crazy.

“A Closer Walk With Patsy Cline’’ premiered in Vancouver, British Columbia, and has toured all over; in 1991 it made its US debut at Boston’s Charles Playhouse, where it lasted nine months. Since then it’s been somewhat eclipsed by “Always . . . Patsy Cline’’ for theaters wishing to stage a tribute/fan-baiting event. But now Fiddlehead Theatre Company, which is reinventing itself as a presenter after closing its doors in Norwood, has brought “A Closer Walk’’ to John Hancock Hall in the Back Bay.

At a couple of moments in the 90-minute show, Beirne’s voice sounded almost spookily like Cline’s — the same honeyed quaver, the same deep, melting quality with a half-hidden ache of longing. Lovely costumes by Renee Purdy, both cowgirl-quaint and Vegas-glitzy, also evoked the star’s allure. More often, though, Beirne’s gorgeous tone and smooth phrasing, while still a delight to hear, lacked the hint of raw pain that makes Patsy Patsy.

That would be a minor quibble, though, if “A Closer Walk’’ did more to live up to its promise of taking us through the tragically short, surprisingly rich career of Patsy Cline. Instead, it gives Patsy no chance to speak for herself; her only lines, besides the songs, are a few bits of concert patter, and we see her only as a performer — though admittedly in venues ranging from a tiny honky-tonk saloon to Carnegie Hall (barely hinted at by a few signs and light changes on Charlie Morgan’s nothing of a set).

Rather than her story, we hear an annoying character named Little Big Man (here played by Tom Frey, who also directs), a WINC-AM DJ who bills himself as Patsy’s biggest fan. At first it seems as if Regan were going to use him as a framing device or narrator, which might be OK — but then we realize he’s doing almost no narrating or framing.

Instead, Little Big Man might say a word or two about where the next song was sung. But mostly he’s onstage to be a 1950s-’60s DJ, complete with sports reports, newscasts, and jingles for Ajax and Mr. Clean. Frey also gets a few bits as an onstage comic with Patsy, telling jokes that are almost as moldy as the “vintage radio’’ business. It’s all too much to be an amusing diversion, and too little to create an authentic sense of time and place.

Inexplicably, too, the terrific onstage musicians are introduced only by their character names — but then given no chance to be those characters. They’re just there to play, and they do a great job. But why pretend any of them, or anyone else onstage, is in a play?

So, for the record, the musicians’ real names are Jeff Evans (piano), Gary Spellissey (percussion), Steve Marchena (guitar), Will Slater (bass), and Mike Ihde (steel guitar). And any time they and Beirne want to get together to do a concert, of Patsy Cline’s or anyone else’s music, I’ll gladly pay to hear it. But let’s call it a concert, and leave it at that.

Louise Kennedy can be reached at kennedy@globe.com.