Earworm by Gur Arie Piepskovitz is pitched as an ‘anti-rom-com’ and certainly succeeds in presenting the contemporary queer relationship as a prospect of conflict, contradiction and angst. The story concerns alternative cabaret singer Guy (Avihud Tidhar), who is dating queer academic John (Brodie Bass). They are motivated by distinctly varying ambitions and have different needs in their relationship, which is obviously heading towards collapse.
In a bold, post-modern meta move, Earworm opens with Guy (Tidhar) directly addressing the audience, as he tries to select a song to open the show. Waylon Jacobs and Reece Lewis sit either side of Guy, acting as an arch, critical chorus, analysing the emotional manipulations of theatrical conventions. The pair savage Guy’s efforts in real time, while wearing plastic rain hoods and Jackie O shades. This surprisingly avant garde intro soon gave way to a more conventional narrative of a bickering couple who invite guests over for dinner, which descends into a four-way war of words. Abigail’s Party and Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf loom large over proceedings, but this particular drama is fuelled by queer theory, Millennial anxieties and queries regarding the neurological drivers of love and desire.
The core theme at the centre of Earworm is concerned with comparing the rush that’s experienced while buzzing to a novel pop tune with the emotional thrills at the start of a new relationship. Play a tune to death and you’ll get sick of it. The fun wears off. Eventually, it stops delivering that dopamine hit. Guy becomes convinced that personal relationships fall prey to this inescapable pattern of ever diminishing returns. His partner John believes that sacrifice and compromise are an antidote to this crash and burn pattern that stems from chasing the thrill of the new. While Earworm keeps the action analogue, there’s a quiet nod to the destructive shadow of online dating and hook-up apps.
The couple’s dinner party guests, Tyler (Waylon Jacobs) and Zayn (Reece Lewis) have a more progressive and comedically pretentious approach to their relationship. Lewis is excellent as the younger, Gen Z toy boy, brimming with high self-esteem and Olympic eye-rolling skills. In fact, the four cast members gave uniformly strong performances, delivered with nuance and enthusiasm. It’s not easy to convey a sex scene with any measure of authenticity when vertical on a back wall clutching a duvet for dignity, but fair play to Tidhar and Jacobs, they pulled it off.
Brodie Bass plays the older partner with great charm. He’s bossy but patient, and Bass manages to make a quite controlling character also vaguely sympathetic. None of the characters are particularly likeable. They are all quite annoying and 75 minutes is just a little bit too much time spent in their company. Piepskovitz admits he wrote the play in the chaotic throes of post break up pain,
“I wasn’t able to articulate my thoughts; my brain kept moving in different directions like a GPS in the wilderness, and all I could articulate were short outbursts of memories and thoughts between longer bursts of crying and karaoke improv to another belting song on Spotify.”
While much of the writing is sharp and the experimental structure shows impressive creativity, it still has the vibe of a work in progress. It can take decades before one has the required emotional wisdom to understand why certain relationships failed in the past. Earworm feels dark and messy, which reflects heartbreak perfectly, but doesn’t take into account the bigger picture. As a Gen X queer, who faced a different raft of challenges with regards to relationships and survival, it was hard to feel significant empathy for any of the characters. We went through the AIDS crisis and Section 28 for this?
The loss of love is ancient and universal and this dip into that topic feels very specific to a moment in time, within a minority subculture. That laser focus approach from the front line can be a revelation for those who aren’t directly in the war. This feels like an understandable shout from the walking wounded. Perhaps Earworm speaks to a younger generation, but it often felt like being a grandparent watching teenagers get drunk on cider for the first time. It’s fun for a while, but the novelty can soon wear thin.
Earworm is at Camden People’s Theatre until 22nd August 2026, Camden People’s Theatre
Reviewer: Stewart Who?
Reviewed: 18th August 2026
North West End UK / Theatre Muse UK Rating: