James Rowland

James Rowland: Piece of Work

08/03/25

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Piece of Work is the second in James Rowland’s Songs of the Heart trilogy. We saw the first, Learning to Fly, back in November 2023, and we’ve yet to catch the third, James Rowland Dies at the End of the Show. We’re here tonight with a friend and we’ve warned her about Rowland’s propensity for undressing, so none of us is particularly surprised when the show starts with him removing his T shirt and trackies and replacing them with plaid pyjamas. We’re just relieved he’s kept his undies on this time – and also a little confused by the costume choice. What do PJs have to do with anything? There’s nothing about him being in bed or even much about him being indoors…

Instead, this is a story about fathers and sons: about Rowland coming to terms with his old man’s death; about his ersatz brother, Chris, whose dad rejected him; and about The Prince of Denmark and Old Hamlet. The three narratives are interwoven, shining a (literal) light on the complexities of paternal relationships and their potentially devastating impact. Rowland, Chris, Hamlet – all abandoned, one way or another. All railing at their absent fathers for leaving them to deal with a scary, fucked-up world.

It’s also a story about suicide, and Hamlet’s ideation in the “to be or not to be” soliloquy is rendered very explicit here. It’s heavy stuff, but Rowland has a light touch, and knows just when to pull us back from the brink. His openness and affability make it easy to trust him with weighty topics without feeling overwhelmed.

It’s a great concept and Rowland has a charmingly vulnerable stage persona, but there are elements of the story that feel under-explored, especially the climactic confrontation between Chris and Dick, which feels almost thrown away. There’s surely more to explore in the tale of Rowland’s performance at the Royal College of Music too; for such a frank actor, it really seems like he’s holding back.

Nonetheless, I’m drawn into the story, and I find myself wanting to know where Rowland goes in the final part of this trilogy.

3.2 stars

Susan SIngfield

Learning to Fly

17/11/23

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

We have an unusual reason to remember the name James Rowland.

Searching back through the annals of our reviews blog, I see that, on the 14th March 2019, we were in the Traverse Theatre, watching him perform A Hundred Different Words for Love, part of a trilogy of plays he was touring. We managed to see all three of them but, due to circumstances beyond our control, in the wrong order.

You don’t need long memories to recall that this was a troubling time for theatre-makers around the world – and indeed, the poor turnout for this show had nothing to do with Rowlands’ material but instead spoke volumes about how frightened audiences were of mysterious new virus that was afflicting the world. Tickets had been sold, but few customers were brave/reckless enough to turn up and take their seats. Sure enough, just two days later, theatres across the UK were instructed to close their doors – and it was a long time before they were safe to reopen them.

Happily, things have moved on since those dark days  – and Rowland’s latest offering, Learning to Fly, is a charming and affable piece, based around a recollection from the performer’s youth, a time when he lived in Didsbury, Manchester, near to Fog Lane Park. 

Weirdly, in the 1980s, I lived there too, but that’s another story.

Rowlands is as likeable and swaggering as ever. I can hardly fail to forget that he performed one part of the aforementioned trilogy stark bollock naked, which certainly takes some confidence, but tonight he’s modestly dressed in a white singlet, trackie pants and trainers. He wanders onto the stage, has a brief chat with the audience about trigger warnings and the like, and then launches into his story.

He tells us about being fourteen years old and about an unspecified illness that keeps him from going to school; and how his struggling mother leaves him for one day a week in the care of Anne, an elderly neighbour, who never seems to leave her house and who spends most of her time listening to the music of Beethoven.

Against all the odds, the two of them  form an uneasy friendship, one that steadily grows over the weeks until one night, James does something unprecedented – something that will change their relationship forever…

Learning to Fly is a charming and beguiling piece, one that veers from outright hilarity to moments of pathos and regret. It’s easy to picture Rowlands as a youngster, steadfastly pursuing his own particular goals in life, which perhaps unsurprisingly, are not those of the average fourteen year old. I can believe that he would do something so spectacularly off-the-wall. 

If I’ve a criticism to make, it’s simply that some of the pay-offs are not always delivered as forcefully as I’d like – and there’s an indecisiveness to the conclusion that has tonight’s audience unsure of whether the time to applaud has actually arrived or not. 

But it would be an unsympathetic viewer indeed who doesn’t derive enjoyment from this unconventional mix of comedy, storytelling and music. 

Hopefully Rowlands’ current tour will be allowed to continue without the unwelcome interruption of a pandemic. Fingers crossed.

3.8 stars

Philip Caveney

Songs of Friendship 3: Revelations

13/03/20

It’s likely that James Rowland’s trilogy will be the last stage performance we see for a while, thanks to a certain wee virus up-ending life as we know it. As mass gatherings are banned and large theatres begin to shut, we’re here, slathered in hand-sanitiser, hoping that the small, clean Traverse 2 is a safe enough space.

This is part three of the trilogy, but – at the time of watching – we hadn’t yet seen part two. That has now been rectified, which is good because it means I’m writing with full knowledge of the story – but bad because it’s playing havoc with our house-style of writing in the present tense…

Anyway.

Revelations is about an older, sadder James. The shock of losing a best friend to cancer; the awkward sadness of an inevitable break-up – these heartaches belonged to a young man, not quite fully-fledged, whatever his birth certificate might have said. This final instalment is altogether more grown up, although, of course, James is still James, so ‘maturity’ isn’t the first word that springs to mind. Still, he’s forced to confront some pretty adult issues, and there’s an endearing frankness to the way he details his response.

The main focus is parenthood, specifically the idea of being a sperm donor for his best friend and her wife. He wouldn’t be the baby’s father (it would have two mothers), but he would be an active presence in its life. And, he worries, maybe too active a presence: is he getting in the way of Sarah and Emma’s relationship?

This final instalment is, without doubt, a tragedy, albeit told with humour – and without clothes. Yes, that’s right – without clothes. Because Rowland spends the last twenty minutes stark-bollock naked. It’s a shame that we need trigger warnings (and I do understand why; I’m not arguing against them in principle) because the shock-factor is somewhat undermined by a ‘THIS SHOW CONTAINS FULL-FRONTAL NUDITY’ poster that greets us as we enter. Instead of being startling, the undressing is more: ‘Oh, okay then; here it is…’

It’s definitely brave, although I’m not sure why he doesn’t pop on a dressing gown after the key moment of revelation. Except that there’s a sense throughout the trilogy of a character who always pushes things too far, and maybe this is just the final iteration of that trait.

All in all, Songs of Friendship establishes Rowland as an accomplished and empathetic storyteller, whose friendly bumblings through life will retain a place in many hearts.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Songs of Friendship 2: A Hundred Different Words For Love

14/03/19

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Actor/writer James Rowland presents the second part of his Songs of Friendship trilogy, although we’re seeing it out of sequence, having already seen parts 1 and 3.  Though it employs pretty much the the same techniques, it feels decidedly gentler and much more light-hearted than either its angst-ridden predecessor or successor.

The music also reflects this softer feel. Once again, Rowland uses a looping device to build up layers of melody, but the mellow-sounding keyboard he uses creates a lusher sound than we heard in either of the other parts.

In this episode, James’s best friend, Sarah, is getting married to her partner, Emma, while James himself is going through the throes of a passionate, but ultimately doomed romance with an un-named woman. As before, Rowland plays all the roles, flitting from one character to the next with ease. He effortlessly draws his audience into the story and there’s some nice interplay between him and us. The story is very funny in a Richard Curtis sort of way – something that Rowland happily refers to during the telling – and he scampers around the stage, dispensing observations and even, at one point, sporting a very fetching red dress.

For my money, this is the most successful chapter of the trilogy. It doesn’t try to shock or challenge too much, but just envelops me in a warm glow and sends me on my way with a smile on my face.

Philip Caveney

Songs of Friendship 1: Team Viking

11/03/20

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Writer/performer James Rowland is on stage at the Traverse, dressed in a shabby suit and telling us a delightful shaggy dog story. This is Team Viking, the first part of a trilogy, though we are assured that each one is stand-alone. (We’re booked in to see the other two as well – although, because of other commitments, not in the right order.)

Rowland is an aimiable and affable storyteller, who knows how to handle a joke and has us laughing at some pretty unlikely events. Somebody’s mother being run over and killed by an ambulance? That’s not funny! And yet… somehow… you don’t want to laugh but…

James relates how, eight years ago, his best friend from childhood, Tom, was diagnosed with an incurable form of cancer (also not the kind of thing that comedy gold is generally inspired by)  – and how Tom’s dying wish was to be given a proper funeral, just like the one Kirk Douglas’s Einar had in the 1958 film, The Vikings. You know the kind of thing. A longboat drifting out to sea, set ablaze by fiery arrows while that unforgettable theme music plays. He assigns a very reluctant James and another friend, Sarah to organise it for him.

So, no pressure there.

Exactly how they achieve this memorable send-off provides an hour of pleasurable storytelling, with Rowland breaking off every so often to add another layer to a looped song he is gradually putting together as the tale unfolds. There’s a message in the song, but we won’t fully appreciate it until the end…

As it’s fairly unusual to be reviewing a trilogy, we’ll wait until we’ve seen the next two instalments to issue the requisite stars. Those who would like to immerse themselves in the full experience can book to see the complete trilogy on Saturday night.

Team Viking is an encouraging start – and, considering recent world events, this cheery, relaxed session may be just the kind of thing we’re all in need of.

Philip Caveney