No Empty Bench in Soho Square

Our musical journey around London's Soho considers the genius of Kirsty MacColl

The tenth of October in Soho Square can be a time of uncertain weather. The autumn days are shorter, and the air often carries a sharp chill. Rain showers come and go without warning, but when the sky clears, the copper and gold leaves on the square’s many trees glow brilliantly in the soft light. The usual throng of summer tourists have thinned out, leaving the place to a quieter, more local crowd. Yet at midday on the tenth of October this year, as every year, you will find a different kind of gathering on the south side of the square.

On one of the benches that ring the square is a small metal plaque, easy to overlook unless you know its significance. It bears the lyrics of a song: “One day I’ll be waiting there / No empty bench in Soho Square.” The words belong to Kirsty MacColl, and on this day, her birthday, fans from around the world will gather in her honour. They cluster around the bench, some laying flowers, others singing her songs, their voices weaving through the trees like a breeze. This is their tribute—an annual celebration of the music and memory of one of Britain’s most brilliant singers and songwriters.

The story of Kirsty MacColl too often gets lost in aspects of her life that overshadow her extraordinary talent and her remarkable contribution to our musical culture. Here, we focus on the brilliance of her recorded work, hoping that readers will explore her work more thoroughly. Though very much a performer and writer of her generation - of our generation -  with a post-punk sensibility and an impressive command of diverse musical styles, MacColl also shares qualities with an older era of songwriters. Her gift for crafting memorable melodies, her sharp wit, inventive wordplay and her ability to collide humour and pathos within her storytelling places her alongside Noel Coward and Cole Porter.

As Billy Bragg aptly put it: “She writes like a playwright, sings like an angel.” David Byrne echoes this, describing her as "the voice of an angel, from a mind and heart inflamed by Thatcher’s England." Beneath the beauty of her voice lies a simmering anger, one that often surfaces in her songs to challenge, awaken, and provoke the listener. Her songs demand your attention. Kirsty herself described her songs as “happy and melodic but with bitter, twisted lyrics - jolly little numbers with snarling attitudes”.

There’s a guy works down the chip shop swears he’s Elvis

Just like you swore to me that you’d be true

There’s a guy works down the chip shop swears he’s Elvis

But he’s a liar and I’m not sure about you

Born in 1959 and raised in Croydon, South London, it was her older brother’s record collection—especially The Beach Boys—that may have given her perfect pitch and a rare ability to nail harmony vocals on the first take. Her talents as a vocal arranger were not only inspired by Brian Wilson but also comparable to his. She vividly recalled hearing her brother’s copy of Good Vibrations when she was just seven years old: “I played it so much he eventually said, ‘Have it.’ I spent about twelve hours a day playing it, working out all the different parts and harmonies.”

In June 1979, just one month after Margaret Thatcher came to power, Kirsty released her debut single, They Don’t Know, on the Stiff label. The song reached number two on the UK airplay chart, but a strike by the distributors prevented it from charting officially. Written when she was only seventeen, the song’s catchy pop melody cleverly disguised its emotional depth, exploring themes of being misunderstood in love. Although it would later become a chart-topping hit, it wasn’t by her.

After leaving Stiff, Kirsty signed with Polydor, and in 1981 she had a hit with There’s a Guy Works Down the Chip Shop Swears He’s Elvis. The song showcased her humour and storytelling, touching on themes she would revisit throughout her career—deception, self-delusion, and the unreliability of men. Two years later, Polydor dropped her from their roster.

She returned to Stiff, releasing a series of unsuccessful singles, while Tracey Ullman’s cover of They Don’t Know became a top ten hit in both the UK and the US. In 1985, MacColl herself scored a UK top ten hit with her version of Billy Bragg’s A New England. Fellow Substacker

Katy Wheatley

has strong memories of this song: “I remember the first time I heard it on the bus on the way home from school. I was 11 or 12 and it just lit me up. I love the lines ‘I saw two shooting stars last night, I wished on them, but they were only satellites, is it wrong to wish on space hardware?’ It’s my ride or die karaoke song.”

And it wasn’t just pre-teens for whom the song struck a chord.

Louise

is another Substack contributor: “I came to University in the UK in 1982, and was a punk, and although she was far too musical and melodic for me to be a big fan, it always felt as though she summed up what it was to be a young woman at that time. I love “In These Shoes”, but I think it might have to be “A New England” for the complicity and fun I heard in her voice and Billy Bragg’s lyrics. It seemed as though we were all in it together.”

It appeared that the recognition her talents deserved was finally within reach. But just months later, Stiff Records went bankrupt. Under insolvency law, she could only record as a solo artist if someone bought her contract from the official receiver. No one did.

Yet the hours spent at seven years old mastering the harmonies to Good Vibrations paid off. Although she was prevented from recording her own songs, she became an in-demand backing vocalist for artists like Simple Minds, Talking Heads, The Rolling Stones, The Smiths, Happy Mondays, and Big Country. During this time, she recorded what is perhaps her most famous vocal performance—a role she only landed after both Chrissie Hynde and Suzi Quatro were unavailable. Kirsty MacColl became the female voice on The Pogues’ iconic Christmas song Fairytale of New York. The song has now charted in the UK Top 20 twenty times and is the fifth most-charted song of all time. According to Shane MacGowan “she could make a song her own and she made Fairytale her own”.

Then there’s always the cash

Selling yourself for some trash

Smiling at people that you cannot stand

You’re in demand

Your fifteen minutes start now

Mike describes how he discovered Kite, her 1989 album: “It was my friend John in Coventry who suggested I buy it. I adored it. I was brought up with the Great American Songbook and The Beatles, so to me it sounded like a hip, acerbic Ira Gershwin had written lyrics for a rejuvenated Paul McCartney, with Tom Lehrer adding the odd lyrical flourish. I loved the raw honesty and melancholy I heard in the lyrics and the beautiful melodies.” The album stood apart from the prevailing musical trends of the time — the so-called ‘second summer of love’, acid house, and the whole ‘Madchester’ scene. With the legal issues surrounding Stiff Records resolved, Virgin signed MacColl to a two-album deal, which she approached with a fierce sense of determination:

"With Kite, I felt I had to prove that I wasn’t this bimbo girl-next-door I'd been portrayed as. That had hung around my neck like a fucking albatross for so long, and I wanted to make the point that, yes, I can write a fucking song, pal!"

Kite showcased extraordinary songwriting and performance. Beautiful and emotionally resonant, the songs touched on social commentary, the position of women in the music industry, and the complexities of relationships. As in all her work, MacColl’s mastery of melody, harmony, and lyrical inventiveness shone through. Pete Glenister, her collaborator on the album, described how her songs could “break your heart with something wistful, then make you laugh with her wit.”

For an album of such brilliance, the reviews in Melody Maker, Sounds, and NME provided more measured praise calling it “thoughtful and mature,” “charming rather than classy,” with “fine tunes about life and love” and “pleasantly down to earth.” It's worth noting that all the reviewers were men. While the album didn’t break into the top 20, her cover of the Ray Davies song “Days” was a hit.

Glenister later remarked on the sexism MacColl faced: “She was always deemed difficult, whereas if she’d been a bloke, they’d have just said, ‘Yeah, he knows what he wants.’ That was the real difference. It was amazing how sexist it was, particularly in regard to Kirsty. She would get a record deal and then get dropped just because she had a view.”

From the sharks in the penthouse

To the rats in the basement

It's not that far

Electric Landlady (1991) marked Kirsty MacColl's second and final album for Virgin Records. Like its predecessor, it showcases her signature blend of stylistic diversity and sharp, lyrical brilliance. MacColl's creative process was deeply collaborative, enriched by partnerships with musicians like Johnny Marr, whose contributions were central to her distinctive sound. Throughout her career, collaboration wasn't just a feature but a driving force, allowing her to shape eclectic influences into something uniquely her own.

The album's standout single, "Walking Down Madison," gave MacColl her first U.S. hit, pairing infectious melodies with a piercing social commentary. The song vividly contrasts the extremes of wealth and poverty in New York City, capturing the inequality she observed with unsettling clarity. True to her style, MacColl delivered biting critique wrapped in catchy hooks and a pulsing beat—making her message both accessible and unforgettable. The track, co-written with Marr just one week after his departure from The Smiths, exemplifies the alchemy of their partnership, merging his jangly guitar sensibilities with her sharp lyrical wit.

Despite its merits, the album was met with lukewarm reviews from critics at NME and Melody Maker. Steve Lamacq described it as "an adult but very confused record," and it achieved only modest sales. Within months, Virgin was sold to EMI, and her new label dropped her.

Her 1993 album, Titanic Days, was, in her words, created "back to front." Without a contract, she recorded the album at her own expense, writing songs, performing them live, and ‘knocking them into shape’ before recording them in her home studio. ZTT declined to sign her but agreed to release the album as a one-off.

Titanic Days captures a traumatic period in MacColl’s life. Her marriage to producer Steve Lillywhite, with whom she had two children, was falling apart, leaving her to navigate single motherhood while maintaining her career. Jude Rogers, who wrote the sleeve notes for the recent MacColl box set, describes how, despite the personal turmoil, the album "still swirls with some of her most beautiful songs. 'Soho Square' and 'The Last Day of Summer' are studies in deep melancholy; 'Big Boy on a Saturday Night' shows Kirsty's raging power; and the soft house beats of 'Angel' and 'Just Woke Up' show how easily she could absorb the sounds of the times."

I once met a man with a sense of adventure

He was dressed to thrill wherever he went

He said “Let’s make love on a mountain top

Under the stars on a big hard rock”

I said “In these shoes?

I don’t think so”

I said “Honey, let’s do it here.”

According to Neil Spencer “Her last record was her best. That would have been important to Kirsty MacColl. 'Whenever I go into a studio, I always operate on the principle that I might get hit by a bus tomorrow,' she said earlier this year. 'I'd hate the obituaries to read, "And her last album was her not-very-good album".”

It was nine months after the release of Tropical Brainstorm that she was killed by a powerboat in Mexico in December 2000. During the seven years since Titanic Days a writer’s block, followed by increasing time in Brazil and Cuba, and a new relationship had led her to consider leaving music altogether to become a teacher in South America. As it was, a resurgence of creativity took her back into the studio. The album sparkles and sizzles with her love of Latin music, to which she brings her own unique singing style and songwriting. Themes of romance and desire are tackled with her biting wit and humour, exhibiting far less of the bleakness heard on Titanic Days. Indeed, in the song Alegria we hear her “filling my senses with happiness and joy”. The song “In These Shoes?” sees the protagonist as a woman who encounters various men trying to persuade her to join them in adventures, but she dismisses their advances with humour and a sense of self-determination. Her refusal to conform to their desires is both comical and empowering. For fellow Substack contributor

Anna Sayburn Lane

the songs holds fond memories. “In These Shoes always makes me laugh and also reminds me of a wild weekend in New York with a friend - we heard it played everywhere, including the fabulous Puerto Rican club we wound up in, where we knocked back frozen margueritas and danced till we dropped.”

There’s a confidence and joy in evidence on the album, suggesting new departures for her songwriting. Despite the album’s commercial success, the label V2 dropped her just prior to her death.

One day you’ll be waiting there, no empty bench in Soho Square

And we’ll dance around like we don’t care

And I’ll be much too old to cry

And you’ll kiss me quick in case I die before my birthday

In all our research and storytelling about music in Soho, we’ve aimed to go beyond the conventional framings of these narratives, even within the limitations of this project. We don’t claim to have covered everything perfectly, and we welcome suggestions on how to improve. Too often, the stories of women in music are reduced to two extremes: trivia or tragedy. While there are exceptions, this narrow lens frequently overshadows their artistic contributions, creative agency, and broader cultural impact.

The story of Kirsty MacColl is often filtered through such a lens, focusing on her tragic death, her relationships with her father and husband, her stage fright, and her collaboration with The Pogues. But these are not the reasons why, every October, her fans gather in Soho Square to celebrate her life and legacy.

They meet under the trees because Kirsty MacColl was one of the greatest songwriters of her generation. Her fans come together to honour her artistry, her resilience, and her unmistakably fearless voice. MacColl had a unique ability to weave humour, wit, and vulnerability into her songs. Musically, she pushed beyond the boundaries of post-punk, blending it with other genres—most notably Latin music—while always maintaining her distinct voice. She took creative control over her work and her career, asserting her artistic integrity in an industry that too often sidelined women. MacColl carved out her own space, refusing to be confined by others' expectations.

This annual gathering stands out not only for its intimacy but for its singular purpose. In a city known for its vibrant music scene, it's poignant that this event—held under often unpredictable October skies—is one of the only tributes to music that takes place in Soho.

Whether or not you can join the gathering on October 10th to celebrate what would have been her 65th birthday, Kirsty MacColl’s music remains timeless. So next time you find yourself in Soho Square, sit for a moment on that bench beneath the trees, listen to her songs, and remember the woman who defied convention—in music and in life.

Authors’ note

Our thanks to Katy Wheatley, Louise and Anna Sayburn Lane from the Substack community for sharing their musical memories of Kirsty MacColl.