'Stereophonic' review — this remarkable play about a rock band captures the agony and ecstasy of artistic collaboration

Read our review of David Adjmi's Tony Award-winning music drama Stereophonic, now in performances at the Duke of York's Theatre to 20 September.

Making art is messy. That is the inescapable truth at the heart of David Adjmi’s remarkable Broadway hit Stereophonic, which received a record-breaking 13 Tony Award nominations in 2024. Now this engrossing tale of a fictional Anglo-American band battling to record their second album has made the transatlantic jump – and it rocks.

The action takes place in the claustrophobic confines of a California recording studio in 1976, giving it the feel of a voyeuristic, fly-on-the-wall documentary. Downstage is the mixing desk, manned by two sound engineers who effectively act like a chorus. Upstage, behind a huge window, the band assembles in the booth to bicker, moan, and occasionally make magic.

It’s the perfect visual representation of process versus product. Is it worth going through all manner of hell if the end result is unarguably brilliant? And how do you hold a group together – including warring egos and two sets of romances – without completely blurring all boundaries? Not to mention the consumption of booze, weed and a comically enormous bag of cocaine.

That tension is beautifully explored through the bandmates, who both harmonise and clash; they are greater than the sum of their parts, but also sabotage one another. Frontman Peter has a toxic relationship with his singer-songwriter girlfriend Diana: he alternately nurtures and is existentially threatened by her burgeoning talent.

Adjmi and director Daniel Aukin handle that ambiguity perfectly. During the recording of Diana’s fantastic song “Bright”, Peter demands she play piano. Is he trying to undermine her confidence, knowing she’s embarrassed about being a novice instrumentalist? Or is he right that her rougher playing makes the confessional song even better?

Jack Riddiford is riveting as control freak Peter, who is just as insecure as Diana in his own way. Lucy Karczewski effectively contrasts Diana’s nervous chatterbox offstage self with the confident artist she’s becoming: she literally finds her own haunting, distinctive voice.

Meanwhile bassist Reg’s addiction is fracturing his marriage to impressively assertive keyboardist Holly. It begins humorously, as Zachary Hart’s hungover, rubber-limbed Reg pours himself through the studio door, but turns agonising as their bruised tenderness curdles into recrimination and grief.

There are also three returning Broadway cast members: Chris Stack as drummer Simon, who has a memorable drama-queen meltdown, and Eli Gelb and Andrew R. Butler, superb as the engineers. Gelb quietly becomes the soul of the piece: his stoner-philosopher-blagger Grover undertakes the biggest journey, growing in skill and hard-earned wisdom.

We have to believe that this fractured group is capable of greatness, and the sumptuous, blood-pumping original music by Arcade Fire’s Will Butler absolutely convinces us. When the band does finally nail a song, it is spine-tingling – especially as the cast sing and play all their instruments live.

They’re so good that you wish there was more music. Adjmi’s wry, unhurried hypernaturalism deliberately immerses us in their experience – the stop-start frustrations, exhaustion, mundane moments juxtaposed with transcendent ones – but, over three hours, it’s slightly too gruelling.

However, there are period pleasures galore in Enver Chakartash’s detailed costumes – flares, peasant blouses, jangling bangles – and David Zinn’s tangibly analogue, wood-panelled set. The latter allows for interesting configurations, whether we’re eavesdropping on a stormy argument or watching people slam in and out of various doors, like a farce. Credit too to Ryan Rumery for his phenomenal sound design.

Perhaps the most potent observation comes from Simon: “Music isn’t supposed to be perfect. It’s about relating to each other.” That applies just as much to theatre, another intrinsically collaborative art form – and Stereophonic is an endlessly rich, deeply human labour of love.

Stereophonic is at the Duke of York's Theatre to 20 September. Book Stereophonic tickets on LondonTheatre.co.uk.

Photo credit: Stereophonic (Photos by Marc Brenner)