ajhlovestheatre

STEREOPHONIC

by David Adjmi 

Original songs by Will Butler

Directed by Daniel Aukin

Duke of York’s Theatre, London – until 22 November 2025

running time: 3 hours, 15 minutes including interval 

https://stereophonicplay.co.uk

Apparently, lead producer Sonia Friedman was so keen on the script of Stereophonic that she agreed to present the play’s transfer last year from off-Broadway’s Playwrights Horizons to Broadway proper without even seeing it performed live. It turns out La Friedman’s enthusiasm was well placed, as David Adjmi’s engrossing drama now arrives in London in a replica of Daniel Aukin’s original New York staging, on a wave of critical acclaim as well as more awards than you can shake a stick at, including the coveted Tony Award for Best Play. Watching it for a second time a year on, it reconfirms my initial impression that it’s one of the greatest plays to come out of the USA in decades.

Like the works of Annie Baker and Stephen Karam’s 2016 Tony winner The Humans, this is one of those extraordinary American plays where seemingly nothing much happens…and yet everything happens. This rewarding slow-burner charts, with forensic precision, raucous wit and a clarity of vision that the characters themselves seldom possess, the progress of a rock band creating a career-defining album. It’s like a fly-on-the-wall documentary but performed live, and Adjmi carefully, lovingly builds up a picture of these people -their flaws, their insecurities, their loves, their eccentricities- so that they glow before our very eyes, with a rare richness of colour and detail.

So sublime and real is the direction of Daniel Aukin and the acting (for London, four British actors join a trio from the Broadway cast, though sadly not Sarah Pidgeon whose astounding turn as the tormented lead singer felt like discovering a young Meryl Streep) that it’s hard to know where Adjmi’s script ends and the bravura of the production takes over. It hardly matters. The play deals with the sometimes fraught, often random nature of the creative process, and of how success and validation can wreak havoc on personal relationships. Across three hours duration and a two year timespan (1976-77), the group’s journey from amazement at their new found success to ragingly huge egos, is beautifully managed. 

The performances are excellent. Imported from New York, Eli Gelb and Andrew R Butler are cryingly funny yet oddly touching as the engineers trying to preserve some level of self respect while managing the band’s often outlandish behaviours. Both wonderful originally, Gelb in particular is even more impressive now, finding quirks and nuances in the hangdog but sensitive Grover that ensure he is as compelling as he is hilarious. The other American, Chris Stack as drummer Simon, is, ironically, playing a Brit, and is so charismatic that it’s possible to overlook his sometimes unconvincing accent as he covers the character’s personal emotional pain with a veneer of scabrous sarcasm. 

Zachary Hart’s meticulously well observed bass player Reg transforms brilliantly from alcoholic, drug-crazed mess to holier-than-thou but deluded health freak. Jack Riddiford’s take on diva-esque, almost cruelly disengaged band leader Peter feels more dangerous and difficult than that of his Broadway predecessor, and the emotional abuse of women by men registers more strongly. Opposite him as lead singer Diana, probably destined for stardom if her demons and insecurities don’t get her first, Lucy Karczewski makes a fine West End debut. As yet, she hasn’t quite found a way to make the character’s extreme changes in mood fully coalesce but that will probably develop as the run progresses, and she captures the sense of a young woman torn between kindness and ambition, with a plaintive, rangy singing voice that sounds like that of an authentic rock goddess. 

Nia Towle is terrific, focused and entirely truthful, as Holly, the other female band member, trying to square her ambition and sense of propriety with her feelings for Hart’s unruly Reg. The camaraderie between the two women in a predominantly male environment strikes a real chord. As the evening progresses, the tiniest of details becomes absolutely riveting.

Behaviourally, these people are often nightmares but, and here’s where Stereophonic becomes truly magical, when they find the sweet spot in their music, all is temporarily forgiven. Will Butler has crafted a selection of rock songs – galvanising, affecting, rousing, most of which we only hear fragments of – that aren’t just authentic, they’re completely wonderful. The music is fully live, and the whole evening becomes testament to its power to express, heal and uplift. Almost unheard of for a play, there’s a cast album due to popular demand.

Presenting artists on stage agonising about their art can be tricky: if you don’t show any of the ‘work’ then audiences can feel cheated, but if you do present a taste of it and it isn’t very good (Steven Pimlott’s original NT production of Sunday in the Park with George is a case in point, where the act two Chromolume was eye-rollingly pretentious) it potentially invalidates everything you’ve been trying to point out about creative struggles. From this point of view however, Stereophonic is an utter triumph, these songs sear and soar.

That triumph extends further to David Zinn’s richly textured, intricate set, a hermetically sealed band box atop a scruffy but homey communal area, so evocative you can almost smell it, centred around a gigantic mixing desk. Ryan Rumery’s sound design seems louder and more bombastic than it did originally, which may be down to the difference in theatre. Still it successfully differentiates between the two environments, finding both the human and the monumental. It’s fascinating, even moving, in the final moments where Gelb’s lovable, shell-shocked Grover, alone in the recording studio, plays around with tracks, isolating then adding, making the full sound we’ve been listening to, then dismantling it, until we’re left with just the human voices, breathy, harmonious and timeless.

Honestly, the punishing length is a trifle off-putting, and the second act, although shorter, drags a bit but, for a piece that so steadfastly refuses to ingratiate itself, it’s still astonishing to observe the effect Stereophonic has on an audience: both here and in New York, you could’ve heard a pin drop at key moments, and the ovation at the end was like being at an actual rock concert. The music and irresistible humour are undeniable palliatives, while Adjmi’s naturalistic yet frequently crazy dialogue, and his grasp on his contrary, complex characters, is masterful and delicious. Anybody interested in either contemporary drama or rock music (or both) will need to see this. Remarkable.