“What came first, the music or the misery? Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?”

Those words belong to Rob Fleming, the curmudgeonly central character in Nick Hornby’s classic tome “High Fidelity”, but they could just as easily apply to The Cold Record’s 12-year-old protagonist, played with infectious exuberance by Eli Weinberg.

Prior to the performance, audience members are asked to email organisers their favourite “punk song”, and after meeting at The Tivoli and being escorted to a nearby, intimate “secret location”, the couple of dozen attendees take a seat on the hodgepodge of chairs arranged in a semi-circle around Weinberg.

The first half of the performance involves audience members discussing what inspired them to choose their songs, and the relaxed atmosphere enables Weinberg to develop an easy rapport with audience members as they expose their own emotional connections to music.

After a fleeting intermission, the audience returns and Weinberg places his headphones on and turns the emotional intensity up to 11 as he transforms into a 12-year-old, speaking in rapid-fire bursts and explaining his desire to become “the boy who will break the cold record” – the most days a student is sent home from school early with a fever.

As he explains, this is the only time he can immerse himself in his true love – rock ‘n’ roll records – and on the way to trying to achieve his goal, he develops an infatuation with his school nurse and is exposed to the raw emotional intensity of punk rock.

The Cold Record is expertly written, directed and executed, and much like the punk ethos that underpins its narrative, this singularly original production is the theatrical equivalent of a lo-fi, frenetic, three-chord slice of rough-hewn pop perfection, and it packs an emotional punch that will stay with viewers long after the performance’s fade-out.

… you don’t talk about The Cold Record.

Well, you can talk about it but you can’t reveal what happens.

So, what do we already know?

A secret location. There will be punk music. There will be a mixtape. We meet a 12-year-old boy who is in love with the school nurse. He’s going for a record number of sick days off school.

It’s fun and relaxed, you will have a smile on your face and you will learn something about a stranger.

Whilst the story is told at breakneck speed, the subtext creeps up on you and you realise you are more invested than at first it seemed.

You don’t need to be a fan of punk music to enjoy this show, just have an appreciation of music and the joy it brings.

This is a story about relationships – with friends, family and first love.

Your heart might break a little. 4/5 stars

I wasn’t sure what I was signing up to…meeting at The Tivoli and then going to a secret location on King Street.

Hmm…

Sending in a punk song ahead of the show – what even is punk?

Being encouraged to sit in the front row…DANGER!

But what can I say? I loved it!

Trust me when I tell you that I’ve seen a lot of theatre. A lot.

I’ve been there, done that and sometimes get my kicks sitting in the audience picking up the general arc of what’s happening and then kicking back knowing how it will all play out.

The best plays, however, are the ones that sucker punch you right in the guts.

The ones that have an emotional core that even if you know what’s going to happen still knocks you for ten.

The Cold Record is that play.

It’s deceptively simple but thanks to a wonderful actor (Eli Weinberg) and some great script (Kirk Lynn), this is one powerful play.

So without any spoilers (trust me, go in fresh, it’s so worth it!) here are some of the things I loved about The Cold Record:

1. Everyone is welcome, everyone.

2. Music connects us across generations, genders and backgrounds.

3. It gets deep. Quickly.

4. There is real eye contact: it’s scary, exhilarating and rarely done with such intensity between strangers. Get into it.

5. You get out of it as much as you are willing to put in.

Oh, and take your best headphones, you’ll want to have all the feels on the way home as your pump up the volume on your own mixtape.

The Cold Record begins as an informal conversation outside a roller door.

There’s an announcement, ‘not much’ will happen, we’ll make a mixtape followed by a 28-minute story.

But then EVERYTHING happens, and I must keep the secret or get out!

Weinberg sits in front, flanked by lamplight; we’re all dangerously close seated in a semicircle on eclectic chairs, each introducing our punk song.

What follows is a fast-paced monologue, which is captivating, funny and sad.

The story of a 12-year-old boy, a middle school punk rock fan, trying to break the record for the most sick day absences from school.

We’re strangers, sipping beer, observing a stream of rapid-fire consciousness with a mutual understanding, we’re on his side, because – punk rock.

How intriguing.

Punk rock.

A secret location.

A one-man show.

What was in store for us all?

The audience participation brought about a sense of closeness that flowed into an intimate performance that was full of fun.

Interactive storytelling was cleverly delivered rapid-fire style leading us on a rollercoaster of emotions which left us exhausted, exhilarated and astounded at such a high energy bedtime story!

In a nutshell, the performance given by Eli Weinberg was brilliant!

We all swore not to repeat the story that unfolds during the performance so prepare yourselves emotionally people and go and see this entertaining and unique show – it will leave you wanting more.

Tonight I took an oath.

I took an oath I would say nothing of what I saw tonight.

And I won’t.

That oath is sacred.

Oaths are sacred – do you want a review by someone who thinks oaths aren’t sacred?

What kind of person are you?

Not someone for this show, clearly.

The mixtape happened after though.

I haven’t heard it yet so I can’t say exactly what it is or what it says about the show although technically to review the mixtape wouldn’t be in breach of my oath because the memories borne by the mixtape will be the future memories of an entire room.

From Glaswegian riots to secret riflings through sibling stockpiles; these songs will be the only record of an unforgettable night – that I can’t talk about.

Because of the oath.

I imagine that future renditions of the mixtape will tell of an intimate shared experience; of a theatre performance that connects strangers even before it began; of the sharply whittled words of a whip-smart writer coupled with a charismatic performer of outstanding ability and a small minimal set with unexpectedly intricate production value.

But I couldn’t tell you for sure.

I took an oath, you see.

Love it.

The intimate setting allows you to connect with the rest of the group.

Share your thoughts and feelings, all while listening to some great songs.

The second part is very enthusiastic and capturing storytelling.

Bonus, you get a mixed tape with all the songs.

The Cold Record is full of intrigue and surprises from the get-go.

Audience members are sent instructions via email for a task they must complete prior to attending the show and told to meet at one location from where they will be led to a secret location. I had absolutely no idea what to expect.

The brief description in the program gave nothing away. What I saw was a brilliant performance and cleverly executed piece of theatre that is bound to confound.

On arrival at the secret location, the small, intimate audience – approximately 20 people soon realised we were in for something quite different from the typical theatre performance.

We were told to help ourselves to a beer or soft drink from the waiting eskys and take a seat in a semi-circle of chairs.

Our host – the performer in this one man show – sat in a chair in front of us with a tape deck on a table beside him.

Once we were seated the show commenced with the audience being asked to reveal and explain their individual responses to the email task we had been set.

This was cause for much laughter and some ‘chair dancing’.

The second half of the show saw our host take on the persona of a twelve-year-old boy telling the story of how he was attempting to break the record for the most number of days off school with a fever – The Cold Record – and his love of music and the school nurse.

As the story unfolded, I felt myself relating to the character and feeling quite emotional as the memories of the music transported me back to my childhood and youth.

One moment I was laughing and smiling, the next I felt close to tears. Looking around the room it was obvious my fellow audience members were uncovering their own music-related memories.

As the performance progressed the audience became part of the show – characters in a complex twelve year old’s life.

We were invited into his home and his thoughts.

Minimal props were used sparingly but further ingrained us in the story.

It is hard to really explain this show without giving too much away.

Besides we were made to promise never to speak about what we had witnessed ‘or else we would be kicked out’.

What I can say is… If you love music, if you believe in the power of music, if you want to be truly moved by a piece of theatre then The Cold Record is a must-see.

Music has the power to take us back in time, to transport us to faraway places, to remind us of lost youth, love lost and found, lost ones, good and bad times and this is the essence of the show.

If you’re wondering which of the 85 Brisbane Festival shows you should drop your hard-earned cash on, I wholeheartedly endorse expenditure on The Cold Record.

It’s brilliant and beautiful, there are music and beers, and days after the experience, I still can’t stop thinking about how it made me feel.

If it were a song, it would be a two-part harmony, the final power chords bringing everything together in a crashing – and crushing – crescendo that had me begging for an encore.

The sole performer, Eli, greets us at the door like an old friend, offers us a beer, then invites us to take a seat in a makeshift living room.

Sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with my fellow 19 audience members, we start playing the music we’d been asked to request before the show, revealing our personal connections to our chosen songs.

This builds an easy camaraderie, a trust between strangers bonding over music.

That connection is vital for the second half of the show, a 28-minute story about a 12-year-old boy trying to set ‘The Cold Record’ for the number of days he gets sent home from school so he can listen to punk rock.

Eli delivers the tale with a frenetic energy that mimics that of a pre-teen, connecting with each and every audience member in his living room.

There’s an intimacy and urgency to the performance that doesn’t feel contrived or uncomfortable, owing largely to the relaxed and easygoing first half; that unforced connection between strangers.

I made a pledge not to divulge the specific content of the second half; to do so would ruin the experience for future audiences.

But even knowing what I do, I would drop the needle again and again and play The Cold Record on repeat.

The Cold Record is like one of those nights where you go over to a friend’s house, sit up all night talking and listening to music, and come away having had some kind of profound experience – all compressed into an hour.

This one-man show is intense, funny, unexpectedly beautiful and very, very cool.

Having submitted the requisite punk song earlier (although, not being a punk aficionado, I was relieved to be told that all songs could be considered punk – it’s about what it means to you) we were collected from The Tivoli and taken to a secret location nearby.

Inside, the intentionally small audience clustered around the performer, Eli Weinberg, on mismatched seats where we were first guided through the creation of our own unique mixed tape, sharing our stories and instantly bonded by the experience.

It’s a good job we were, as the second half of the show – where Eli tells the story of a troubled twelve-year-old boy, who discovers love, life, and himself through punk music – is a visceral ride and you need something to hang on to.

Eli inhabits that twelve-year-old kid with such outsider realness that you forget it’s a performance, his rapid-fire delivery and almost eyeball-to-eyeball connection with each audience member at points searing in its intensity and at other points tender, almost pleading.

When the end comes it gut punches you in the feels with such precision that you’re left reeling, wondering what the hell just happened, with tears streaming down your face.

Maybe that was just me, but I have a feeling it will be you too.

Next week a mixtape of the songs from our specific show will land in my inbox and I get to relive it.

Because that’s what music does… and that’s kind of the point.

Tonight I made a promise never to speak about what I witnessed in this show.

It’s a promise that the actor in the show makes you take and I will abide by it.

What I will say, however, is that after the performance, all I want to do is tell people about it and talk about it.

I want to sit down with the writer and actor and talk about this for hours.

I felt connected, and it gave me goosebumps like only good theatre and music does.

This show punched me in the gut and reminded me why I love theatre.

Unsuspecting and exhilarating all at the same time.