Jesus Christ Superstar at The Watermill
When I was told the Watermill was doing Jesus Christ Superstar, I thought they were mad. I honestly didn’t think the space—or the concept—could handle it.
It’s a huge show. Loud. Relentless. Full of emotional weight. And they were doing it with 18 actor-musicians. That’s a tough ask. I doubted they’d find that many people who could all play and sing to the standard this show demands.

I’m mixing the show, so I’ve got skin in the game, but even so—this one’s something special. From day one, it was clear that the usual rules weren’t going to apply. We’ve got electric guitars and drums shoulder to shoulder with flute, cello and trumpet. Everyone on stage is doing something—singing, playing, moving, sometimes all three at once.
That many people on a stage that small? It should sound like a mess. But it doesn’t. It sounds tight. It sounds deliberate. It sounds good.

Judas hits hard, Mary softens the edges, and Jesus holds the emotional line. Every vocal is present. Every instrument has its place. And it’s not just about being clean—it’s about being expressive. There are moments where the whole band’s ripping, but you still catch a whispered line or a breath before the next lyric.

It’s loud, but not just for effect. It’s delicate when it needs to be. And it never lets the story slip. That’s the bit I keep coming back to. We’re not just making noise. We’re telling something. You feel it.

I had my doubts. I didn’t think we’d be able to do this show justice in a space like the Watermill.
Now? I think we’ve done something better. We’ve made it personal. Immediate. Unavoidable.
If you’re unsure, don’t be. Go see it.
You’ll probably leave thinking the same thing I did: we’ve pulled it off.
“The sound, from the most delicate whisper to the full force of the rock anthems, is crystal clear, ensuring every lyric and note lands perfectly.”