(Credits: Far Out / Nick Barber)
Tue 16 December 2025 13:03, UK
Richard Hawley – Sheffield City Hall
Nothing shows the people of Sheffield’s dedication to their own city more than a walk around the Christmas markets.
Not bad for a Monday night. The rain has let up, the streets are busy enough for an atmosphere but not so bad that it’s crowded, and the feel of an overpriced pint from the Alpine Bar offsets the air’s chill. The lanes that make up Sheffield High Street are flooded with the usual offerings of festive tat, stuff that you wouldn’t look twice at in a shop, but that under these multi-coloured LEDs feels somewhat alluring. Cheap baubles, an unusual array of coasters, and, in the case of Sheffield, enough domesticated art to fill the Louvre.
I moved to Sheffield in 2014 for university and never left. Well, there was a brief stint in London; those freelance music writing jobs don’t come thick and fast in the north, but as soon as I was able to move back here, I did. It’s not where I was born, but it is where I call home. The city has my heart, unequivocally, and yet the blind love that a lot of residents show for these streets, which manifests in the form of posters that say “Now then!”, “Ey up” and “Be reyt” have always frustrated me slightly.
One of the most poignant pieces of street art in the Steel City is scribbled on some sheet metal underneath a giant mural. It reads “Don’t be nostalgic for a life you never lived,” and it feels like something more Sheffielders should see. This adoration for the city also brings with it a reluctance to change or innovate.
All other street art dotted around depicts the people falling into the most basic stereotypes. Everything revolves around tea, Henderson’s relish, and Sheffield Wednesday / United (delete where appropriate). It’s wholesome for visitors, but as someone who lives here, it seems lazy.
Richard Hawley live in Sheffield. (Credits: Far Out / Nick Barber)
Richard Hawley is set to come on stage in 45 minutes. In between posters that scream of Sheffield adoration – Arctic Monkeys’ lyrics, pictures of local pubs, the silhouette of Jarvis Cocker – you see the occasional shirt dedicated to the man who has sold out three successive nights at the City Hall. The shows are in place to celebrate 20 years of his album Coles Corner. The record, named after a famous meeting spot in Sheffield city centre, is considered one of Hawley’s very best, and while dregs of his hometown can be heard in every piece of music he’s ever made, arguably, Coles Corner contains his biggest devotion to the Steel City.
Walking into the room, a huge black and white photo of the Corner itself stands dominant as a backdrop, with two “Welcome to Sheffield” signs at both ends of the stage, and Hawleys explains during the show that the woman in the photo is his mother, and it was taken on her wedding day. She was at the Corner in town because she had a ladder in her tights, so she had to run around some shops and find new ones. Hawley admits he’s “shitting himself” for the sold-out show on Wednesday as his mum is coming and he wants to get it right.
Well, if the performance goes half as well on Wednesday as it did on this opening night, Mother Hawley will no doubt be proud.
That story is one of many that make it into the evening’s performance. This is less a gig and more “An Evening with Sheffield’s Finest” as in between songs he reflects on where he was when he wrote the album, what his mindset was like, and who the people were that made his life in Sheffield so special. More images stand proud on the screen, and the audience is taken through a very specific section of his life, something which is unique to Hawley, but that also resonates with everyone in the crowd.
For those two hours, everyone is nostalgic for a life they never lived. When they see these photos dedicated to Hawley, and hear these stories that only apply to the musician, they replace his mother with their own, and quirky characters blur into those at your local in whatever street of South Yorkshire you hail from. For a brief moment, the street art dotted around the city makes a lot more sense, and this domesticated patriotism that bleeds onto buildings, walls, and Christmas markets, I suddenly don’t just empathise with, but wholeheartedly endorse.
Richard Hawley captivated a home crowd. (Credits: Far Out / Nick Barber)
I realise it’s nothing to do with the actual city, and is everything to do with love, hope, and community. In those words, “Now then,” people don’t just hear a greeting, but hear all the people who have said it to them in their lives. Those words have prefaced the best and worst news, have mended and caused wounds, and the people of Sheffield can appreciate them for the memories they contain, and that Monday night in Sheffield City Hall is a celebration of this album, which is a celebration of this place, which is a celebration of its people, which is a celebration of life itself.
Hawley performs as if the songs were written yesterday. The emotion embedded within his voice is as prominent as ever; these tracks stand the test of time, unlike anything else, and the way in which they resonate is enough to bring a tear to your eye. A string quartet sits stage left, three guitarists, bass, drums, keyboard, and they all culminate to create a sound which is full-bodied, uplifting and borderline overwhelming.
Coles Corner is a soundtrack for a movie set in Sheffield, which is yet to be made, and that evening, everyone created their own script based on their own lives.
Two hours was all it took to change my mind on these localised posters, which you see dotted around the city. Put more up for all I care, as it’s not the actual art that matters, but the lives which they portray (in the most abstract form), which is the real art. Two hours and I am nostalgic for a life I never lived, tears in my eyes, a song in my heart, and a bag full of posters with Steel City stereotypes.
Not bad for a Monday night.
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