Featured image: (Pacer Graphic / Dylan Sulcer)

“Well, I know I’m the best there is, but all they want is a show. Well, that’s all right, I’ll be glad to oblige—” –Freddie Trumper “What A Scene/What A Joy.

Originating from an idea in 1972, inspired by that year’s World Chess Championship between Bobby Fischer and Boris Spassky, Chess is a musical that has been rewritten almost 10 times since its concept album was released in 1984, and it seems as if the story still won’t connect.

Originally written by Tim Rice, best known for his collaborations on shows with Andrew Lloyd Webber like Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, Jesus Christ Superstar, and Evita, Rice wrote a musical about the Cold War tensions between the US and the USSR, reflected in the world chess championship. 

The music was produced by Benny Andersson and Björn Ulvaeus, known from ABBA. The music has become the mainstay of the musical, generating hits in the 80s with songs such as One Night in Bangkok and I Know Him So Well. 

Chess has been a guilty pleasure for many musical fans, and has had a healthy life of being performed every few years. The show officially has its first Broadway revival, which started in October of 2025, starring Aaron Tveit as Freddie Trumper, Lea Michele as Florence Vassy, Nicholas Christopher as Anatoly and Bryce Pinkham as the Arbiter.

The show quickly became a standout with the new book written by Danny Strong, known for his role on Gilmore Girls as Doyle, and the amazing performances by the whole cast, not just the principal actors. Fans begged for a cast recording, and their prayers were finally answered on April 10, 2026.

Merano, What A Scene / What A Joy, Press Conference: These three songs are put together as they flow into each other and are usually made into one song. The ensemble shines with Merano, giving a delightful and almost optimistic sound for the musical. The ensemble sings as the citizens of Merano, Italy talk about their history and how the chess championship is bringing people to their town.

There is a warmth to Merano that almost feels out of place once you know where the story is headed, but that is exactly what makes it work. That energy carries seamlessly into What A Scene / What A Joy (probably my personal favorite), where Freddie Trumper makes his explosive entrance. Tveit immediately establishes Freddie as arrogant, chaotic and undeniably magnetic. His vocals are sharp and biting, perfectly capturing Freddie’s ego and need for attention. It is not just a performance; it is a statement. Freddie is not here to simply play chess—he is here to dominate the room.

It is in this moment that the cracks in Freddie’s persona really begin to show. What starts as arrogance quickly shifts into defensiveness, and the line between confidence and instability starts to blur. His arguments feel less like calculated responses and more like reactions, which only fuels the frenzy around him. The press pushes harder, the tension builds, and suddenly the spectacle feels much more volatile.

Florence stepping in becomes a turning point. Michele brings both control and urgency to the moment, grounding the chaos without losing the emotional intensity. Her voice cuts through the noise in a way that immediately establishes her as more than just Freddie’s second. She is composed where he is erratic, measured where he is explosive, and that contrast becomes essential to the dynamic of the show.

Musically, the layering here is particularly effective. The overlapping lines from the ensemble create a sense of pressure that mirrors the interrogation happening onstage, while Freddie’s interjections disrupt any sense of order. When Florence enters, there is a noticeable shift — not a complete calm, but a moment of clarity within the storm. It is one of the first glimpses of how the show balances chaos with control.

The Arbiter: This song is a going to, in my opinion, be a classic showing of Pinkham’s ability to act through song. From the moment it begins, there is a sense of control that contrasts sharply with the chaos of the previous number. Pinkham steps in not just as a performer, but as a presence—someone tasked with maintaining order in a world that is constantly threatening to spiral out of it. His delivery is precise, almost calculated, which fits the Arbiter’s role perfectly.

Vocally, Pinkham brings a clarity that allows every word to land. This is not a song that relies on vocal acrobatics; instead, it thrives on intention. Every phrase feels deliberate, every shift in tone purposeful. He manages to balance a sense of authority with a subtle awareness that the system he represents is not as stable as it appears.

1956, Budapest is Rising / Nobody’s Side: This is the first time we get a real sense of just how complicated this musical will get. 1956 takes place after Anatoly and Florence meet for the first time, and the chemistry between them is off the charts. Freddie is pissed, and Tevit shows this well, showing restraint, then becomes condescending when asking Florence about why she’s so close to Anatoly after everything the Soviets did to her dad in her childhood.

Florence fights back, showing another strong performance from Michele as she realizes just how much meeting Anatoly has changed her perception of her relationship with Freddie. There is a clear emotional shift here — what starts as loyalty begins to feel like suffocation, and what starts as curiosity toward Anatoly begins to feel like possibility. Michele plays this internal conflict with increasing intensity, letting the frustration build until it finally breaks through.

That emotional breaking point leads directly into “Nobody’s Side,” which feels like Florence stepping fully into her own perspective for the first time. The song is not just about choosing between two men, but about rejecting the idea that she has to belong to either of them at all. It is a declaration of independence, and it lands because of everything that came before it—the tension with Freddie, the unexpected connection with Anatoly and the realization that her life has been shaped by forces she did not choose.

Pity The Child: Known in some circles as Pity The Tenor. This is one of the most challenging songs vocally for tenors in musical theatre. This is also a masterclass from Tveit on how to showcase vocal acting. 

From the moment it begins, the song feels less like a performance and more like an unraveling. Freddie is no longer performing confidence for an audience or press conference—he is alone, stripped down emotionally and psychologically. What remains is ego without armor, insecurity without distraction, and frustration without an outlet.

Tveit leans fully into that collapse. Vocally, the number demands control while depicting lack of control, and that tension is where the brilliance lies. The shifts in register, the sudden emotional pivots, and the strain embedded in the phrasing all serve the character rather than just the sound. It is not about hitting notes for effect; it is about showing a man trying to hold himself together while clearly falling apart.

What makes this performance especially compelling is how human Freddie becomes in this moment. Up until now, he has largely been defined by arrogance, volatility and ego. Pity the Child forces the audience to sit with what lies underneath that persona—fear of failure, fear of irrelevance and a desperate need to be seen as important. The title itself becomes almost ironic, as Freddie simultaneously demands sympathy and rejects vulnerability.

Overall, this cast album is such an amazing showcase of how to stay true to a classic but also make it new and fresh. 

Rating: 9.5/10