Bear in mind I had no context on what this play was about and even after I was told it was either loosely or unathorised-ly inspired by Fleetwood Mac's sessions in a studio, I still had no context. I apologise in advance if this offends anyone but other than hearing the band name and maybe two songs in the radio once or twice in my lifetime, I have zero knowledge about them. So this reflection is not about Fleetwood Mac, it's about Stereophonic. When thinking about plays, I always think of both the form and the content, the hardware and the software, so let me reflect on this separately:
There is a key lesson that comes across with the show: Being a very talented musician, in a band, recording top albums for months on end in a foreign city is, in fact, pretty horrible. I feel conflicted at recognising this as the main point because it makes me think that if the intention is to make us feel "oh poor rich and talented famous person" , well, that's a premise that would rub people off in the wrong way (me included), and yet, the play succeeds at sort of telling you that. We get nothing of the glamorous side of fame, the true wins of cultural/musical/creative success (although the news come through, you see essentially no celebration of it). We only get the drugs, the conflict, the shouting, the pain told and untold, the frustration, the obsession, the loneliness, and most of all, the very intense dickheadery of everyone involved.
And yet, you do feel a bit sorry for them, and you do admire them a little, and you marvel when they push through exhaustion and addiction to make a couple of minutes of genuinely good music. It reinforces my pre-existing belief that if you are uniquely talented at something, it is basically a sin to not exploit it in the service of the outcome (and this belief is fighting for its life against my other belief, that tells me you are not just 'your work in the world' but much more, and valuable beyond it). The script and the acting succeed in leaving you with that "oh what an eccentric yet amazing creative bunch" feeling, even though what you just witnessed was a tsunami of violence, against themselves and others. There is one single teardrop coming out of a character and in that moment you wonder how is it possible that only now is when they cry???? And then it hits you: Their creative ambition is such a powerful intoxicating thing that they feel nothing else. The play very intentionally and explicitly tells you over and over again: Yes, they are doing their thing, but they are NOT (I repeat, they are NOT) having fun.
I'm not sure if the show left me wanting to learn more about bands; in fact, the whole thing makes you feel like we shouldn't have seen that and we should, as an audience, just stick to enjoying the creative output of this massacre. Or perhaps the opposite? Is it helpful for the audience to know more about the torment behind their favourite creatives? It does feel like the script was a self-exorcism of someone who has been through too many studio sessions where bandmates showed up in their very broken selves but also.... showed up? And I think that's what I enjoyed the most about this peek behind the curtain: Yes they are all a mess but somehow they are all *professional musicians*, not in how they behave but in how intensely they show up. That is probably what it feels like, to be an artist: you can not not show up when it calls you.
I liked it, I guess. I fear it's one of those plays that I will forget very soon but somehow, the lesson (something along the lines of: creative/music people are really doing drugs and struggling in studios and hating each other) will remain in my psyche until proved otherwise (and I will not be watching any documentaries to fight this belief). There is some potential for good soul-searching/social critique vibes but I found myself a tiiiiny bit bored at times. Not my favourite play ever but I didn't hate the time. Go if you are really into music biopics and don't mind watching people do drugs and insult each other for 3 hours. I guess that's what lies behind rock and roll.
The "I guess" in the closing remarks it's important. It is very strange for me to leave a performance feelind mid/neutral. I either absolutely hated it or it changed my life for the better and I am still figuring out where I land when something is just like... OK? I do have a lot of clarity when it comes t films and TV shows: You CANNOT be mid, that is the worst sin of a creative project that has gazillions of resources like most Netflix/Apple/Whatever shows are now. Unforgivable. But theatre? As an art form is so intrinsically exposed to failure and sloppyness and the adrenaline of liveness that if it turns out to be mid, I kinda get it. Perfect theatre is a miracle. So yeah, I didn't love it, but I liked it, I guess.
That's it for today. Geraldine.