Gig Review: Hector Who Lived, Circomedia - A medley of joy, introspection and community

When I first arrived at Hector Who Lived’s gig on a freezing dark evening—having ambled over on the least broken Dott bike I could find—I was immediately greeted with warmth. I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect; I’d only heard of HWL recently and had yet to see him play live. Rather than a standard gig, it felt more like an immersive, multi-disciplinary club night or communal gathering. Celebrating his new BUG EP, HWL brought together a diverse range of Bristol musicians in several formats—from indie alt-pop act Ziggy 2000 to eclectic mashup DJ sets by Bendy Wendy—with HWL’s own performance sandwiched between.

I felt as though I’d walked into an extended family reunion, but without the cultish undertone or arguments. The night operated less as a show and more as a dialogue. HWL has a striking energy and charisma that immediately reaches out, matched by his stylistic versatility. He would pause between tracks to joke, laugh, or open up about how he was feeling. “Are any of you feeling nervous? I was feeling nervous earlier. This song is for anyone feeling nervous.” Instantly, a rapport formed. I felt like I already knew him. His ease in slipping between intimate emotional honesty and humour resonated strongly with the room. People called out; he called back. “We love you, Hector!” Around me, everyone seemed unusually friendly and grounded—an earthy, genuine atmosphere. His supporters (friends?) danced with a kind of unselfconscious joy until they could barely stand.

There were striking moments where he asked all of us to sit down, suddenly turning the space into something like an adult version of a kid’s show. “Should I wear the guitar strap?” he asked, earning affirmative cheers. Somehow it felt like I’d been part of this dynamic far longer than the fifteen minutes I’d been in the room. In a time where people feel more fragmented and isolated than ever, this felt like a brief step away from all of that.

At points, HWL and his band drifted into slow, jazz-inflected, winding solos that drew me into a reflective haze. In his more solemn tracks, I caught shades of Sigur Rós: pensive, film-score-like medleys drawing the crowd in with each chord. In other moments, he swung toward Jamiroquai-like groove and playfulness; then came futurist synths, deep afro-funk, lumbering folk, and Frank Ocean-esque hip-hop turns. HWL traverses genres that often seem diametrically opposed—and he does it with comfortable ease.

While I unfortunately missed Ziggy 2000, Anna Colette and Miranda Faye, DJ Bendy Wendy carried the energy forward after HWL’s set with an eclectic mix of mashups and slutty techno that maintained the momentum of a live performance for the rest of the night, continued by Benkins and Bussy Buss.

Throughout the night, HWL was accompanied by a puppet show that tied the whole experience together. He spoke to the puppets—especially a small ragdoll version of himself—and the audience hung on each exchange between performer and alter ego. Among the silly dancing and exuberant clothing, the old church (now Circomedia) proved a perfect venue for this strange, joyful gathering.

HWL’s sense of groove permeated everything. His funk, physical comedy, and improvisational humour built steadily until, by the end of the night, the energy was something else entirely—everyone swept up together in the rhythm of “Down the Line” and “Fuck My Life.” If this is what Sunday service is like, I’ll be going to church more often. Praise be to Hector Who Lived.