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Spin Cycles - Jamie-Lee Money Interview

Time to sweat out the sadness. After a successful debut at The Edinburgh Fringe 2023 and a run at The Baxter Studio in Cape Town 2025, writer and performer Jamie-Lee Money and director Larica Schnell are coming to CPT with Spin Cycles. 
Performed predominantly on and with a spinning bike, Spin Cycles explores the processing and suppression of grief through the strange cult-like world of spin classes.

Spin Cycles gives a cathartic look into why we search for something deeper when the inconceivable happens to us. After an earth-shattering year, can she spin herself out of a slump? She’s not in a cult ... yet? Is she? Spin Cycles is a one person show about spinning, grief, love, healing and everything in between.
We caught up with writer and performer Jamie-Lee Money to learn more about the show.
What can you tell me about Spin Cycles?
Spin Cycles is a semi-autobiographical exploration of my experience of my mum’s breast cancer diagnosis and the anticipatory grief one can feel during such a diagnosis. The show is dark comedic new writing and merges the themes of grief, anxiety, changing body image, and memory, all while on a spin bike.

I play Lolly, a young journalist desperately seeking the next big story, when in reality she just writes for a wellness publication run by a pseudo-spiritual editor who has been bitten by the holistic bug. Lolly is just treading water in London, living away from her family and home in South Africa, when, much to her own chagrin, she is tasked with writing about a new cult spin studio, SPIN CYCLES. Lolly isn’t sold on the idea but after some encouragement from her friend Sarah, she decides to give it a go. When the lights go down and the music starts thumping, and she is led through a hill climb by the ever preachy voice of the instructor she is forced to grapple with some big emotions that she has been suppressing. Spinning becomes an escape as well as a place for her own emotional reckoning.

Lolly explains her experience of her mother's diagnosis and the fear she has for her own hypothetical cancer diagnosis as well as exploring the grief she felt after the loss of her grandfather and her university friend. She grapples with guilt and longing all while trying to write for her deadline. 

Themes are explored through light anecdotes and nostalgic stories. Some of these realizations happen while she is spinning on a spin bike others happen while she is telling the audience about her experience. The story is deeply rooted in truth and many tears in the Barbican Foyer, but artistic license is certainly woven through.
 
What inspired you to write this show?
My mum, mainly. Watching her go through her cancer treatment was not easy, but she is bold, she is strong and she is a total badass. I hope to have half of her inner strength and determination someday. I moved to London in 2019 to further pursue my career and have since, had an agent, lost my agent, started writing a screenplay, gone back on and off to South Africa for acting work and in turn it has led to me becoming a bit of a jack of all trades, but perhaps not even really a master of a few. I have really had to diversify my craft from being only an actress in SA and I can proudly say that I have one solo show under my belt and I have been bitten by the bug of creating and making my own work and writing myself into existence in the industry. All of my work is rooted in personal experience but draws the audience in with humour in order to deal with some of the more gut-punch topics.
 
Photo by Matt Griffiths

How did you approach blending the themes discussed in the show?
To be clear,  I truly believe that nothing and everything marries the themes of spinning and grief. So many people look to some sort of thing to hold onto and then search for meaning when the unthinkable happens. When they are dealing with loss or impending loss it is easy to feel something when you can link it to a feeling or a place and for so many people that becomes exercise. The weird thing about spin classes nowadays is that they really are what you make of them. You can go in as a determined fitness fundi and it can be 45 minutes of cardio where you push yourself to the limit of what your physical body can do, or you can go in and struggle the whole way through every hill climb, hate a lot of it and every reference to dropping your baggage but maybe you might just tear up when Sia’s Alive comes on… No matter what, it’s spiritual.
 
How much of yourself would an audience find in the piece?
Lolly’s thoughts and words have certainly come from compartments in my brain, but I am not playing myself. Even though the show is somewhat autobiographical I have added elements to her life that are unlike mine. Lolly is a bit more reckless, restless, wild, detached and definitely more cynical than I am. So it is fun to release myself fully and allow myself to be free in playing her with reckless abandon. She is heavily influenced by music which in turn evokes feelings of nostalgia and specific memories. I love tapping into a specific feeling that a song can give you. So often in my own life, I can remember the first time I ever heard a song, where I was and how it made me feel, so it’s amazing to connect to that. 
 
How has the creative process been working alongside director Larica Schnell?
Fortunately for me, Larica is one of my dearest friends, so she truly gets me and guides me. We met at drama school and have had many a late night and many a cry. I respect her so much creatively and it helps that we can hang out with a glass of wine and chat for hours, although that can be difficult when it’s crunch time. Larica did her Masters in Acting at The Old Globe in San Diego , where she wrote a solo show for her final piece and so she was the first person I asked to read version 1. I don’t always listen to her in rehearsals when she gives me a note, but we have come to learn that somewhere, somehow the note sinks in and when I’m in front of an audience I work with everything she has given me to refine my performance. She is extremely grounding in a room and is meticulous when it comes to detail and highlighting moments. She has been a huge inspiration to me creatively and personally and I would happily collaborate with her until the end of time.
 
The show is performed on or around a spin bike. Why did you choose this and how demanding is this for you? 
I had a bizarre and cathartic experience in the dark at a spin class in London after my Pa (Grandpa) died, and shortly after this my mum got cancer and I thought, well this has to be a play.  I’ve now been to spin classes in NYC, London, Cape Town and Edinburgh and they are all so different but fundamentally the message is the same, you go in to achieve something you didn’t think you could when you started. It’s all very woo-woo and I’m still not quite sure if I totally actually enjoy spinning.

Especially not when I’m coughing up a lung in the corner of a dark sweaty room as a result of my exercise-induced asthma. But there is something quite arresting when you are sweating and bopping to the beat in a dark room full of strangers and one person in the corner is whooping and another is sitting down, someone else is seriously following every bit of choreo and someone else can barely catch up to the beat, all with the lights flashing, and then the instructor tells you to reach down and add more resistance. And we all do it, because we want to feel something. It’s all quite bizarre but it really can be 45 minutes of uninterrupted escape. I had always had an idea of how I wanted the show to work rhythmically with music and movement, but that changed instantly when we started working with the bike. It was a whole new feat  for me trying to talk and spin, especially as an asthmatic but we have dialed that up and down accordingly. Overall I work rhythmically with my breath and so I know when to push and when to pull back with the bike, but a recent flare up of my asthma has meant my pump might just have to be a new prop in the show.
  
The show has grown from performances at the Fringe, how do you reflect on the journey so far?
I’m not so sure the audience is keen to watch me spin solidly for 70 minutes, so we have reworked and refined the show since it’s first iteration at Fringe and have really tried to get to the crux of what the story is about. I have learnt so much about myself and the show over the last few years, I have received some amazing reviews and some tougher to swallow reviews but they have all helped me get the show to where it is now, not everyone has to like the show but their opinion can certainly help mould the trajectory in some way. I have rewritten scenes and come back to old iterations but in the end the most important part of the evolution of the show and the story has been what we are actually trying to say about Lolly’s journey. The show is now a fully-fledged 70 minute version with a lot of heart and hopefully a lot of hope and it has definitely come a long way from the 50 minute fringe version in a Bunker in Edinburgh in 2023.

Photo by Claude Barnardo
 
How do you mentally and physically prepare for a show?
I have always loved being on stage and loved being in front of an audience, as cliché as it sounds it is truly all I want to do, so I don’t find the mental prep too intense. I know that when the lights go down, it’s just me and the audience, in a badly ventilated black box and I will try with all my might to get them on my side and let me guide them for the duration of the show. Equally with physical prep I try to just trust the process, trust myself and trust my training. Although with this show in particular I do need to go to the odd spin class so that I can talk and spin at the same time. I am also a firm believer in a good vocal warm-up.
 
What would you hope someone takes away from seeing the show?
Everyone grieves, whether it is after death or anticipatory, so I hope audiences come away feeling a little bit seen and a little bit closer to however we heal after death and beyond. I’m certainly no expert on grief but I hope that through the journey that Lolly goes on in Spin Cycles the audience are able to connect with at least a single moment in the show where they go, ‘yeah I’ve been there’, or ‘huh, I’ve felt that’. And maybe they come away with nothing and that’s ok, but I hope they at least laugh, because grief can also be weird and funny sometimes.
 
Where can someone see the show and follow your journey beyond?
Camden People’s Theatre 3-7 Feb 2026 and my Instagram is @jamieleemoney - I’m not always posting on Instagram but I am there in the background trying to make a career for myself and write myself into existence.


Photo by Claude Barnardo

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