The next Edinburgh Festival Fringe is only a few weeks away. I mention this because since its release in 2019, The Jonathan Larson Project has been my Fringe soundtrack. There is something about these previously unheard musical gems that provides the energy needed to survive those gruelling six-show days.
Jennifer Ashley Tepper, who originally conceived the Feinstein’s/54 Below concert that inspired the album, now brings the staged version of The Jonathan Larson Project to Southwark Playhouse for its European premiere, after a run in New York.
Following Larson’s tragic death just before Rent began previews off-Broadway, hundreds of cassette tapes were discovered containing previously unheard songs from across his career. Drawn from projects including Tick, Tick… Boom!, Superbia and even Rent, alongside standalone theatre and pop songs, The Jonathan Larson Project gathers a selection of this material into something loosely resembling a song cycle.
There is no real narrative thread connecting the material, and the numbers are as varied and distinctive as one could hope for. A song such as “Hosing the Furniture”, whose unmistakably Sondheim-esque wit and sophistication earned it the Stephen Sondheim Award, sits comfortably alongside more traditional ballads like “Valentine’s Day”, a beautiful piece sadly cut from Rent.
Nate Bertone’s set has a suitably bohemian aesthetic, reflecting Larson’s struggles with poverty while pursuing artistic success. The design cleverly evokes both the scrappy downtown New York Larson inhabited and the artistic community that would later define Rent. A sheet stretched across the rear of the stage becomes a canvas for archive footage and photographs of Larson, while also displaying contextual information about the songs.
Anyone encountering this material for the first time will almost certainly leave with a newfound appreciation for Larson’s extraordinary talent, and perhaps wondering why these compositions remained unheard for so long. Yet the production, in its current form, does not always serve them as effectively as it could.
With no narrative connecting the songs, the evening naturally has the feel of a concert. Director John Simpkins, however, often appears determined to impose the structure of a conventional musical onto material that does not require it. When one cast member is singing, the others frequently find themselves saddled with unnecessary movement and choreography. Rather than adding to the storytelling, it often feels imposed rather than organic, drawing attention away from the music itself.
A more straightforward concert presentation may have been the stronger choice, allowing the performers to introduce each number and share its history, rather than relying on text projected onto the sheet, much of which disappears too quickly to read comfortably. Combined with the constant movement of props, the production often feels cluttered and visually unfocused.
From the album, “La Di Da Rap” is omitted and replaced by “Casual Sex, Pizza, and Beer” and “The Vision Thing”. The former is an infectiously upbeat crowd-pleaser, while the latter, originally written for a National Lampoon revue, feels stylistically at odds with much of the surrounding material.
Early sound issues did little to help matters, with the band occasionally overwhelming the singers. More problematic, however, were some of the vocal allocations. On the album, “One of These Days” is performed solely by Nick Blaemire, but here the song is divided among the company. Not every voice sits comfortably within its demands, and this approach is repeated throughout the evening, often diluting the impact of material that is strongest when given a clear, singular perspective.
When the casting and material align, however, the production delivers some genuinely thrilling moments. Imelda Warren-Green brings wit, charm and immaculate comic timing to the delightful “Hosing the Furniture”, fully capturing the song’s eccentric brilliance. Marcus Collins lends rich, soulful vocals to the deeply moving “Iron Mike”, finding both the humanity and heartbreak within a song about environmental disaster.
Elsewhere, Michael Mather delivers a heartfelt rendition of “SOS”, while Max Harwood connects strongly with the yearning “Rhapsody”, allowing both the humour and vulnerability in Larson’s writing to emerge. Natalie Kassanga once again demonstrates why she is one of musical theatre’s most compelling performers, commanding the stage with infectious energy and powerhouse vocals.
As a long-time admirer of the album, there was an undeniable thrill in finally hearing these songs performed live. While this production does not always trust the material enough to let it speak for itself, Larson’s brilliance shines through regardless. Thirty years after his death, Larson’s voice still feels urgent, relevant and impossible to ignore. In a few weeks’ time, as the Fringe begins again, I’ll be listening to The Jonathan Larson Project album again, now with an even greater appreciation for these songs that almost never saw the light of day.
Listings and ticket information can be found here
