Fifteen years ago, back before Alex Horne had established himself as a National Comedy Treasure with his lauded Taskmaster series, the chaotic and silly Horne Section band was born. A quintet of highly talented musicians (plus Horne) who also happen to be naturally gifted sidekicks to the main man himself, the band has lurched from project to project. For those uninitiated, the band perform a kind of modern day variety show, complete with bad jokes, ridiculous songs, audience interaction and dance-alongs. They’ve had radio shows, podcasts, countrywide tours, TV cameos and their own sitcom, but it is in the live arena that they work best.
As anyone who has heard them before will know, Horne acts as a kind of ringmaster, coaxing delightful self-made songs and games out of his bandmates while teasing them relentlessly. While he is the one who keeps things rolling – and, let’s face it, it’s his name that will have sold 99% of the tickets – it’s the band members that are the real shining stars here. The jokes come thick and fast, bolstered by terrific musicianship and suitable deadpanning by the players.
Some of the material will be familiar to fans of the band. Much of it also is knowingly bad, such as the two-handed sketch between trumpeter Joe and bassist Will about two horses called Jorge and Jesus, featuring some of the worst equine punnery this side of Cheltenham. However, they get away with it thanks to their charm, and by Horne simply describing how awful each joke is. Jokes this bad are inexcusable, unless of course they are flagged as such, in which case their is almost an art to their groan-inducing nature.
There are elements of the show that pander to the local crowd. The Suspension Bridge and Isambard Kingdom Brunel unsurprisingly provide material – even if you will never, ever have heard material like it. Meanwhile, Horne quips about the reduced bin collections in the city and notes that it’s great that “one of your neighbourhoods is now liveable.”
Horne fools with the crowd as much as with the band. He shines a torch at latecomers, berating them, and encourages a standing ovation for drummer Ben’s song on account of his low self-esteem having recently had his haircut likened to that of a lego toy. Best of all, he leads an innovative ceilidh to really warm up the crowd, both physically and emotionally.
Meeting either as children or as university students decades ago, it is clear that these old friends on stage enjoy making each other laugh as much as anyone else, and it is great to see them creasing up at each other’s japes. Luckily, there’s plenty of laughter to go around the whole auditorium in what is a rambunctious, rollicking and hugely enjoyable show.