This was a special, sweaty little show, which will live long in the memory of all who attended.
It was a bit of a last minute job. Chris and Mark have a beautiful project in which they’re doing a new, stripped down album of Hibbett songs accompanied by piano. They’re songs from the sadder end of Mark’s phat ol’ back catalogue – this fact will become important later – and they were looking to do a low-key show in Brighton to test the format out.
[Note: you can read Hibbett’s own write-up of the show HERE]
Usually I have a bit longer than 4 1/2 weeks to put a show together, and August is the month where all the clowns have piled into a single car and made their way to Edinburgh. Still, we put together a lovely lineup and JD of Sweet Venues agreed to put us on despite the tight turnaround.
I’ve been away from Brighton for a lot of the summer holidays, cat and dog sitting, so The Highchurches were a bit less rehearsed than we’d have liked to have been. We decided to stick to the songs that we already felt comfortable with, though we’re in this lovely position where we have another half a dozen to play around with this autumn both in rehearsal and on stage.
The show was a sellout and the room was HOT. The fan was spluttering and wheezing its best, but the stage was a place of sweaty performers and sweatier ukuleles.
Starting us off was the lovely Leslie Bloom, who has become our go-to host to the point that I think there’s be riots if we went with anyone else.
The Bloom extended universe seems to be ever-increasing, with ever more ex lovers and troublesome supporting characters. A highlight was Leslie’s song of past loves – were you one of the 270 million people who saw her in flagrante with Hasselhof at the Berlin Wall on live television?
Next up was Lilla Multipass, a wonderful improviser and character comedian who recently brought her debut hour to Camden Fringe.
I know Lilla through Mr Paul Creasy and Michelle Improv, once correctly describing her in a review as the chaos element of that group. Here, she presented what felt like a middle class millennial meltdown, filled with awful therapists, bubbles, and stolen ikea bags.
Sadly Chris East couldn’t make it, work keeping him in London. He was gutted – this would have been the first time he shared a bill with Mark and Chris in 20 years, from way back during his previous existence as an indie musician.
Fortunately Verity Grebble from the council – definitely not another character from the Bloom multiverse – was on hand to fill in. Grebble is the small minded bureaucrat of everyone’s dreams, on hand to hand out fixed penalty notices for the smallest of infractions.
Time for an interval, and then, The Highchurches.
Man, we were tight. Martha had the idea just before we went on that we go straight into our first tune without saying anything beforehand, both for time and impact reasons.
This would have been even more impactful had Martha’s banjelele not fallen over and Ros’ mic needed to be moved, leading to 20 seconds or so of silent-ish faffing, but we got ourselves into first tune Avalon without further delay and Martha sang gorgeously and the band were as one from the very first note.
It was a tight old stage, and I liked how we set up our various players: me on the right, with my mic turned inwards 45 degrees so I could see the rest of the band; Ros slightly behind me and within eye line, Martha front and centre, and Elle patrolling the left hand side of the stage like a marauding midfield bass general.
It was a gloriously receptive audience – silent and contemplative for the sad bits, but laughing more than an audience has ever laughed for our funnier lines. They were in stitches for Doris Wu, with even the Dr Jekyll / Marina Hyde line getting a laugh. There were a few tears for the love songs, too.
I dedicated Even Keel to Lou, as the song was written partly amid the watery fields on the way to her house, and partly from her Yorkist sofa. I’d left my glasses backstage, and this was probably for the best. So many people I cared about were in that audience, and not being able to see them react to the words and feelings behind these songs made it easier to sing them without becoming overwhelmed.
Finally, and a bit later than I’d intended, it was time for the MJ Hibbett and Chris Thorpe-Tracey show.
I’m not one for sporting metaphors, but they knocked it out of the park so hard I felt bad for the passing seagulls.
Chris is a retired pop star these days, but still plays regularly as band leader for Jim Bob. And fuck, you can tell. From behind the keyboard he is a natural raconteur and Keeper Of Things Together. Mark, meanwhile, was freed from guitar and thus having to remember what chord comes next, shuffling around singing his songs like the indie lounge singer you never knew you needed in your life.
These songs are fucking brilliant, and with Chris on backing vocals and delicate piano, were rawer than they’ve ever been heard before. Hibbett is known for being funny, but these aren’t novelty songs. Like Nigel Blackwell, he writes songs with heart, and character, and place – and pared back and taken seriously, they have the power to be absolutely devastating.
And so a tale of a love song that never was (The Perfect Love song), the lights going up at the end of a Poly Bop (Chips and Cheese), and an ordinary life, ordinarily lived (Born with the Century) were elevated to heartbreaking genius levels of emotional impact, and the room was full of not just sweat, but tears.
There was still time for an unexpected tune from Chris T-T’s own back catalogue, the beautiful 7 Hearts, before a proper singalong to Hibbett’s own Back for Good, It Only Works Because You’re Here, and the gorgeous and bittersweet finale of football with the grandad, In The North Stand.
I’m tearing up even remembering these songs and these performances, which gives you a good indication of how well it went and how joyous and emotional the night was.
If you missed it – don’t worry. This partnership will ride again, and it looks like they’ll be playing the songs at a further Wasps if we can get the dates to work in early 2026 – perhaps tying in with the release of these songs proper.
This Machine Kills Wasps will ride again.
Big love and big thanks to everyone who helps make this beautiful thing happen.
And thank you to all the friends and family members in the audience, and big apologies to the people we couldn’t fit in – it was just too tight a space. We’ll prioritise you for the next one.
J x
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