Phew, Eh Readers?: The Life and Writing of Tom Hibbert

by Tom Hibbert

'Superb celebration of his life and work ... a must-read tribute' CLASSIC POP, 5/5

'The funniest and most revealing of all music journalists' - NEIL TENNANT

'A laugh riot' - CLASSIC ROCK

A Classic Pop Book of the Year
4/5 - Mojo
4/5 - Record Collector
8/10 - Uncut

Idiosyncratic.

Iconoclastic.

Acerbic.

Hilarious.

The influence of Tom Hibbert's music writing across print, radio, TV and podcasts is incomparable. From his genre-defining work at Smash Hits to his 'Who the Hell ... ?' profiles for Q magazine and beyond, this book brings together many of Hibbert's funniest writings.

Compiled by Barney Hoskyns and Jasper Murison-Bowie at Rock's Backpages, the archive of music journalism, Phew, Eh Readers? showcases some of Hibbert's greatest pieces. Presented thematically and chronologically, they highlight his marvellously eccentric perspective on life and popular culture.

Many leading writers and journalists attest to Hibbert's genius. This compendium supplements his writing with new reflections on Tom from some of his peers, colleagues and admirers, including Mark Ellen, Bob Stanley, Tom Doyle, Chris Heath, Sylvia Patterson, along with his widow Allyce.

Phew, Eh Readers? is a must-read homage to one of the most influential writers of our time, a man who left an indelible mark on our cultural landscape.

Genres: Music

407 pages, Kindle Edition

Published February 1, 2024

Reviews

[Alex Sarll]

Tom Hibbert was, of course, the man most responsible for the house style of Smash Hits, and as such deserves to be celebrated; no wonder the likes of Neil Tennant, Bob Stanley and Chris Heath pop up here to say as much. As to whether this is the appropriate celebration, though... I can understand the desire to show the breadth of his career. Certainly the memories of terrible late sixties festivals at the beginning have their laughs, and you want some of the Who The Hell Does So-And-So Think They Are? interviews from Q. But by the end we're on to columns from the Mail on Sunday, and being sceptical about the latest glittering popstrel in a pop mag is fun among friends, but the change of context renders it merely fogeyish. And then Pendennis in the Observer, where if there was ever any humour in Hibbert running against Heseltine in Henley (for the Whigs, no less), it's sapped by subsequent events; the ludicrously named fake children and deliberately outmoded policy positions now just read like a toned down and considerably less hateful precursor of Jacob Rees-Mogg.

Nor was that the only time I found myself haunted by contemporary politics. The Who The Hell? with Roger Waters confirms him as absolutely dreadful even before he was a Putinist stooge, obviously, but more chilling were the times I found the interviewees sounding like Trump, whether that was the 'natural' Scouse 'wit' (classic Hibbert punctuation work, that) of a prickly Ringo Starr, or the sheer incoherence of the utterly fried Arthur Lee. And then, of course, there's the actual politician, the famous Thatcher encounter, where as barking and out of touch as she comes across, you still notice how much better she is than many of her successors at actually answering the damn questions she's been asked.

But in among the variety of publications, and these big setpieces, there's hardly any space for the little stuff, the letters pages and news items and single reviews which were at least as crucial in establishing the Smash Hits voice as the interviews – probably more so, because they didn't keep getting interrupted by the interviewee sticking their oar in. So if you remember those, there's the frustrating sense that you would have been much happier happening across a stack of old copies; if you don't, all that dazzled praise from the great and the good may start to seem mystifying.

And of course the bit that I never grasped back in the day, or even reading old copies at a club in the noughties (long story), was where that voice came from. Yes, part of the joy of Smash Hits was that it never entirely bought in to the hype around whoever the big new thing was, but if you'd asked me, OK, so what music do the writers rate, then at a push I'd have thought of my older cousins, suggested something like Madness. And, at least in Hibbert's case, been out by a generation. Turns out his great loves were Duane Eddy, the Byrds, and Moby ruddy Grape, a band I have until now associated exclusively with Beavis & Butthead's ineffectual hippy teacher. Hibbert was a little older than Robyn Hitchcock, whose woozy memoir of 1967 I read not so long ago; the two were great chums, played together even. And he was only a few years behind molesworth who – it seems so obvious now I've seen it written down – was one of the big inspirations for that wry, irreverent style. I think as a kid I just assumed any similarities were because, in the absence of a cartoon rabbit or someone falling over, that's what funny was.

Which brings us to the not remotely funny bits here. They're in several of the memoirs, but most of all his widow Allyce's, though even there the shambles of Hibbert's life starts off amusing, until past a certain point the drinking and the incredibly restricted diet leads to pancreatitis and then general decline and, for the last decade or more of Hibbert's life, a sort of universal giving up. It's all too depressing for words; even back when I was young enough to still think Jeffrey Bernard was cool, I would have found the prospect of outliving everything that made you yourself by that much a deeply grim prospect. And now that I'm older than Status Quo were for the interview here – from the early nineties! – which is mainly about how hilariously old they are, well. Remember Tom Hibbert, certainly. But maybe don't remember him like this.

[Mark · Rating 2 out of 5]

I remember Tom Hibbert's "Who The Hell ..." columns from Q magazine very well - always the first article in the magazine, always an amusing read. But I was surprised to find that much of the Q house style, which I would have credited to Mark Ellen, is attributed by Ellen himself to Tom Hibbert. Perhaps that accounts for the superlatives thrown around by many of the contributors here, who all seem to have regarded Hibbert with much fondness. Sad to say, though, the pieces collected here don't live up to the picture painted by his friends; they're somewhat superficial and not particularly funny. Ideal for a ten minute diversion in Smash Hits maybe, but there's no evidence of the "master satirist" here. The book's all right but by the end - the painful "Pendennis" columns - I was just counting the pages until I was finished.

[cross · Rating 1 out of 5]

Perplexing

[Peter · Rating 4 out of 5]

Good anthology of his writings and also includes articles about him. The Gary Numan “who the hell?” Piece is my favourite