David Adjmi’s play with songs, music by Will Butler (formerly of Arcade Fire), Stereophonic, not to be confused with Welsh band Stereophonics, made it big on Broadway last year after some ten years gestation: thirteen Tony nominations, five wins… that’s quite something.
London gets three of the original cast, Andrew R Butler and Eli Gelb as sound engineers Charlie (the almost silent partner in that duo) and Grover and Chris Stack as Simon the drummer. All excellent, but Gelb is the magician holding it all together as the American-British band of five, three men, two women, inevitably goes from elation at succeeding to falling apart after creative and emotional differences (there are two couples), rivalries, jealousies—the usual, one might say. The fear of playing in front of huge crowds of ten thousand or more… the reality behind the glamour.
The programme notes spell out how many famous bands fell apart after achieving success. I’m sure you can name a few, too, not least the Beatles, though the gossip is it could be based on Fleetwood Mac. But I see subtle references to several names. The actors / musicians / singers—what a multi-talented bunch—play and sing live every night. Now that is worth hearing, especially if you like music from the seventies. I love the guitars.
The action takes place over a year from mid-1976 in Sausalito, California to mid-1977 in LA. A recording studio is not as exciting as you might think, take after take, singing without music, headphones isolating, insulating, whilst the chief sound engineer / producer, Grover, tries to make musical magic from these teased bits and bobs. Tempers and nerves fray, emotions rise, anger, ego—it is all there in the loud music—as the band works through the night to get it right. Almost autistic in their, and Grover’s, perfectionism. Impossible to have a normal life, whatever that is.
A jigsaw of backstories, all very naturalistic, unhurried, lots of small talk mixed with angst, all talking over each other, I think this has the making of a film. It could be a film set, mixing decks to the fore, recording studio behind glass above—a two-tier split screen, so to speak. Little do the band know that the controlling wizard Grover can overhear their private talk. Tony Best Sound Design of a Play went to Ryan Rumery. Music director and co-orchestrator with Will Butler, Justin Craig was also nominated.
A diffident guy, who talked his way in by lying on his CV that he’d worked for The Eagles, Grover is a wonderful creation, if creation he is. Knowing a few in the sound-mixing world, I’ll vouch for that head down and fastidious splitting of hairs. The finesse is astounding. His back to the audience, look out for body language—it is remarkable acting. And I read that Gelb almost didn't get the part.
Of course, they are all drugged up to their eyeballs. Large bag of precious white powder, spliffs (beware there is much smoke drifting into the auditorium), some tablets, and the bass guitarist is an alcoholic on top of that. Zachary Hart (last seen by me in The Seagull as a guitar-playing Medvedenko), skinny as a reed or junkie, is wonderful as bass guitarist Reg (is that a hint of a Liverpool accent?). One minute he is almost a walking corpse, the next he is reformed—or so he says—and a sandal-wearing vegetarian with ideas to match—is he channelling George Harrison? I love his spiel about houseboats…
Drummer Stack has a touch of Charlie Watts from The Rolling Stones—only a touch, mind, he has his volatile moments, and self-centred ambitious lead guitarist Peter (Jack Riddiford) makes me think a tiny bit of Marc Bolan. And so it goes. The two females, tall lead singer Diana (Lucy Karczewski—what a belting voice) and shorter keys player Holly (Nia Towle), make a supportive team, both with their men troubles—with Peter and Reg. Voices get shriller, long-held silences more pregnant…
The arc of their year is defined in costume changes (designer Enver Chakartash) on a fairly static if very detailed set (beanbags, lots of cushions, tapes, etc.) by David Zinn, Tony award winner, as was director Daniel Aukin. The unhurried pace, accruing layers of dust and stuff, makes this a long play, over three hours in total (first half one hour forty, second one hour fifteen, plus interval), which requires some patience—with the personal, sometimes childish, tantrums—but Will Butler’s music is great, especially Masquerade. I want more of that. Their bickering I can take or leave. It’s hardly Strindberg… though perversely it makes me think of him and Ibsen. The band’s Dance of Death.
Apparently, “the most Tony Award-nominated play ever” and “the most Tony Award-winning show of 2024”, it will return to the US for a tour from October 2025. I suspect tonight’s audience (from people who remember the seventies well to some very young people in their early teens in front of me) has many from the music industry come to relive that era. Those were the days, eh? It ends with Grover alone on the stage mixing; “just call me when it’s time to start again, again”. Still working obsessively after all have left.