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| Made of steel: how South Yorkshire became the British indie heartland | Made of steel: how South Yorkshire became the British indie heartland |
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| “It was like being in an athletics race where you’re running really fast, and then Usain Bolt turns up,” Milburn frontman Joe Carnall says of 2006, when Arctic Monkeys’ debut album became the fastest selling in British pop history and the gritty, lippy Sheffield indie sound went global. However, as interest zeroed in on the Monkeys, Milburn – whose gigs had inspired Alex Turner and pals to start a band in the first place – felt so left behind that they split up for a decade. Meanwhile, fellow Sheffield indie star Jon “Reverend” McClure (of Reverend and the Makers) moved to London, told the NME he was the “reincarnation of Bob Marley”, made an album he now admits was “fucking rubbish” and ended up “a gibbering wreck, back at my parents’ house, unable to hold a spoon”. | “It was like being in an athletics race where you’re running really fast, and then Usain Bolt turns up,” Milburn frontman Joe Carnall says of 2006, when Arctic Monkeys’ debut album became the fastest selling in British pop history and the gritty, lippy Sheffield indie sound went global. However, as interest zeroed in on the Monkeys, Milburn – whose gigs had inspired Alex Turner and pals to start a band in the first place – felt so left behind that they split up for a decade. Meanwhile, fellow Sheffield indie star Jon “Reverend” McClure (of Reverend and the Makers) moved to London, told the NME he was the “reincarnation of Bob Marley”, made an album he now admits was “fucking rubbish” and ended up “a gibbering wreck, back at my parents’ house, unable to hold a spoon”. |
| Fast-forward to today, and as Arctic Monkeys gear up to release their sixth album later this year, South Yorkshire indie is making a Lazarus-like comeback. The rejuvenated Makers’ elegiac sixth album, The Death of a King, was released in September 2017 and gave McClure’s band their highest chart position (No 11) since their debut a decade before. The re-formed Milburn’s initial four comeback gigs in Sheffield last summer shifted 10,000 tickets in five minutes. Meanwhile, emerging stars include Bolton upon Dearne rockers the Sherlocks (whose debut album, Live for the Moment, reached No 6 in September); the funky, brassy I Set the Sea on Fire; zippy garage-rockers Wulfman Fury; and High Hazels (named after a local park), whose shimmering, Beach House-type ballads are loved by Richard Hawley. | Fast-forward to today, and as Arctic Monkeys gear up to release their sixth album later this year, South Yorkshire indie is making a Lazarus-like comeback. The rejuvenated Makers’ elegiac sixth album, The Death of a King, was released in September 2017 and gave McClure’s band their highest chart position (No 11) since their debut a decade before. The re-formed Milburn’s initial four comeback gigs in Sheffield last summer shifted 10,000 tickets in five minutes. Meanwhile, emerging stars include Bolton upon Dearne rockers the Sherlocks (whose debut album, Live for the Moment, reached No 6 in September); the funky, brassy I Set the Sea on Fire; zippy garage-rockers Wulfman Fury; and High Hazels (named after a local park), whose shimmering, Beach House-type ballads are loved by Richard Hawley. |
| South Yorkshire, and especially Sheffield – which spawned Def Leppard, Pulp, Bring Me the Horizon and more – has produced a lot of pop. Built on and enclosed by hills, the compact city is dubbed “the largest village in England”. For decades, closely knit musicians have congregated in city centre music pubs such as the Washington (previously run by Pulp drummer Nick Banks). Makers frontman McClure describes bumping into the Human League’s Philip Oakey, out walking his dog, as well as Pulp’s Jarvis Cocker and Hawley – “all the people who inspired me, before they knew who I was, and they were dead sound”. Bands tend to start young and all know each other: Carnall plays in the Makers as well as Milburn; McClure flat-shared with Alex Turner; Milburn’s Joe Green taught Monkeys drummer Matt Helders how to play, and so on. | South Yorkshire, and especially Sheffield – which spawned Def Leppard, Pulp, Bring Me the Horizon and more – has produced a lot of pop. Built on and enclosed by hills, the compact city is dubbed “the largest village in England”. For decades, closely knit musicians have congregated in city centre music pubs such as the Washington (previously run by Pulp drummer Nick Banks). Makers frontman McClure describes bumping into the Human League’s Philip Oakey, out walking his dog, as well as Pulp’s Jarvis Cocker and Hawley – “all the people who inspired me, before they knew who I was, and they were dead sound”. Bands tend to start young and all know each other: Carnall plays in the Makers as well as Milburn; McClure flat-shared with Alex Turner; Milburn’s Joe Green taught Monkeys drummer Matt Helders how to play, and so on. |
| McClure explains that unlike, say, Manchester, which has been “so gentrified that the younger versions of someone like Mani from the Roses or [Courteeners frontman] Liam Fray have almost been locked out of their own city centre”, Sheffield remains a working-class city; there are still lots of “cheap, shitty places you can practice”. | McClure explains that unlike, say, Manchester, which has been “so gentrified that the younger versions of someone like Mani from the Roses or [Courteeners frontman] Liam Fray have almost been locked out of their own city centre”, Sheffield remains a working-class city; there are still lots of “cheap, shitty places you can practice”. |
| Many of these are in the detritus of the once-proud steel industry. Hawley’s first band, Treebound Story, rehearsed in a former industrial unit with live wires hanging from the ceiling. “We’d wire them together and put Kit Kat wrappers round them for insulation,” he chuckles. “Fucking lethal.” Today, Yellow Arch and Stag Works have turned old steelworks into – somewhat safer – studios and rehearsal rooms. When we jump in McClure’s battered “Revmobile” so the Reverend can give me a guided tour, the latter’s Dickensian facade conceals a astonishing production line of British pop: “And over here, the room where Def Leppard had their first practice!” | Many of these are in the detritus of the once-proud steel industry. Hawley’s first band, Treebound Story, rehearsed in a former industrial unit with live wires hanging from the ceiling. “We’d wire them together and put Kit Kat wrappers round them for insulation,” he chuckles. “Fucking lethal.” Today, Yellow Arch and Stag Works have turned old steelworks into – somewhat safer – studios and rehearsal rooms. When we jump in McClure’s battered “Revmobile” so the Reverend can give me a guided tour, the latter’s Dickensian facade conceals a astonishing production line of British pop: “And over here, the room where Def Leppard had their first practice!” |
| They called Jarvis and me dole scroungers but think how many taxes Pulp must have paid back | They called Jarvis and me dole scroungers but think how many taxes Pulp must have paid back |
| Local producer Alan Smyth has now relocated his famed 2fly Studio to Harland Works but he worked on Pulp, Milburn, the Makers and Arctic Monkeys’ first recordings in a tiny old “little mester’s [cutlery finishing room]”. “Milburn were the better musicians,” he remembers, “but when Alex [Turner] started singing, the sound of his voice and the lyrics coming through the speakers were incredible. He was 17, I was 50, but it totally resonated.” | Local producer Alan Smyth has now relocated his famed 2fly Studio to Harland Works but he worked on Pulp, Milburn, the Makers and Arctic Monkeys’ first recordings in a tiny old “little mester’s [cutlery finishing room]”. “Milburn were the better musicians,” he remembers, “but when Alex [Turner] started singing, the sound of his voice and the lyrics coming through the speakers were incredible. He was 17, I was 50, but it totally resonated.” |
| Today, the Monkeys’ success has the kind of motivational impact on young Sheffield musicians that the Beatles had in Liverpool. “We were in school when they broke,” High Hazels frontman James Leesley remembers. “You thought: ‘Bloody hell, they’re from up the road from us and they’re doing this?!’” | Today, the Monkeys’ success has the kind of motivational impact on young Sheffield musicians that the Beatles had in Liverpool. “We were in school when they broke,” High Hazels frontman James Leesley remembers. “You thought: ‘Bloody hell, they’re from up the road from us and they’re doing this?!’” |
| The steel industry – or rather, its decline – had another ripple effect. When Thatcherism brought the region’s main employer to its knees in the 1980s, Hawley and Cocker’s generation were left with few opportunities, but used their years on the dole to learn their craft and form bands. “They called us ‘dole scroungers’,” says ex-Pulp and Longpigs guitarist Hawley, “but think how many taxes Pulp must have paid back.” McClure has a history degree, but was working in a steel plant stamping “Made in England” on crowbars until he thought: “Get me out of here. I want to be a celebrity.” But Hawley argues that the current generation have it even harder. “Look at the options. A plethora of zero-hours jobs, no chance of buying your own home; you’re going to be living with your parents until you’re 50,” he says. “Or you can stick together with your mates and play some rock’n’roll.” | The steel industry – or rather, its decline – had another ripple effect. When Thatcherism brought the region’s main employer to its knees in the 1980s, Hawley and Cocker’s generation were left with few opportunities, but used their years on the dole to learn their craft and form bands. “They called us ‘dole scroungers’,” says ex-Pulp and Longpigs guitarist Hawley, “but think how many taxes Pulp must have paid back.” McClure has a history degree, but was working in a steel plant stamping “Made in England” on crowbars until he thought: “Get me out of here. I want to be a celebrity.” But Hawley argues that the current generation have it even harder. “Look at the options. A plethora of zero-hours jobs, no chance of buying your own home; you’re going to be living with your parents until you’re 50,” he says. “Or you can stick together with your mates and play some rock’n’roll.” |
| This lack of opportunity inspired the Sherlocks. Their home town of Bolton upon Dearne, near Barnsley, has never recovered from the Thatcher government’s similar assault on coal mining, and is officially one of the UK’s most deprived areas. I drive past rows of boarded-up houses and shops and meet the young band (all under 24) who tell me that music was always “Plan A, which we had to make happen because there wasn’t a Plan B”. Two sets of brothers – the Crooks and the Davidsons – they met when the Davidsons moved in next door and the Crooks heard Josh Davidson’s guitar coming through the wall. | This lack of opportunity inspired the Sherlocks. Their home town of Bolton upon Dearne, near Barnsley, has never recovered from the Thatcher government’s similar assault on coal mining, and is officially one of the UK’s most deprived areas. I drive past rows of boarded-up houses and shops and meet the young band (all under 24) who tell me that music was always “Plan A, which we had to make happen because there wasn’t a Plan B”. Two sets of brothers – the Crooks and the Davidsons – they met when the Davidsons moved in next door and the Crooks heard Josh Davidson’s guitar coming through the wall. |
| We convene at the Sandhill Tavern in Great Houghton, a converted end terrace where they played their first gig. They were ridiculously naïve. “At first, we didn’t realise you needed a bass guitar. ‘Oh, is that the thing with thicker strings?’” cringes bassist Andy Davidson. But theirs is a lovely story of DIY resourcefulness and inner steel. They played scores of venues that drummer Brandon Crook describes as “real-life Phoenix Nights”: an airbase full of drunken, besuited squaddies; a pit closure where redundant miners were shouting: “It’s your bloody fault, you did nowt!” at each other; a pub gig that erupted into a brawl. But they kept at it, ditching the covers once Kiaran started writing songs. | We convene at the Sandhill Tavern in Great Houghton, a converted end terrace where they played their first gig. They were ridiculously naïve. “At first, we didn’t realise you needed a bass guitar. ‘Oh, is that the thing with thicker strings?’” cringes bassist Andy Davidson. But theirs is a lovely story of DIY resourcefulness and inner steel. They played scores of venues that drummer Brandon Crook describes as “real-life Phoenix Nights”: an airbase full of drunken, besuited squaddies; a pit closure where redundant miners were shouting: “It’s your bloody fault, you did nowt!” at each other; a pub gig that erupted into a brawl. But they kept at it, ditching the covers once Kiaran started writing songs. |
| Where Treebound Story and Pulp had once charged people 10p to see them at the Hallamshire pub to get a crowd, the Sherlocks got one of their dads to manage them, a mum to book their gigs and even went knocking on doors near venues where they played. “We’d go: ‘Excuse me. Will you come and see our band?’” sniggers Brandon. “We’d even offer to pick them up and take them back: free taxi. Or we’d flypost cities or create an event on Facebook and invite 2,000 people.” Incredibly, it worked: gigs became “proper nuts, bodies flying everywhere and everything”, and in 2015 they became the first unsigned act since Arctic Monkeys to sell out Sheffield’s Leadmill. They only approached Infectious Records after their own self-released single had made the iTunes Top 20. Now they have played what Kiaran calls “every step of the ladder apart from stadiums. When we’ve played arenas [supporting the Libertines or Liam Gallagher], we’ve had dressing rooms bigger than this pub”. | Where Treebound Story and Pulp had once charged people 10p to see them at the Hallamshire pub to get a crowd, the Sherlocks got one of their dads to manage them, a mum to book their gigs and even went knocking on doors near venues where they played. “We’d go: ‘Excuse me. Will you come and see our band?’” sniggers Brandon. “We’d even offer to pick them up and take them back: free taxi. Or we’d flypost cities or create an event on Facebook and invite 2,000 people.” Incredibly, it worked: gigs became “proper nuts, bodies flying everywhere and everything”, and in 2015 they became the first unsigned act since Arctic Monkeys to sell out Sheffield’s Leadmill. They only approached Infectious Records after their own self-released single had made the iTunes Top 20. Now they have played what Kiaran calls “every step of the ladder apart from stadiums. When we’ve played arenas [supporting the Libertines or Liam Gallagher], we’ve had dressing rooms bigger than this pub”. |
| These bands speak to their audience in ways that Calvin Harris doesn’t | These bands speak to their audience in ways that Calvin Harris doesn’t |
| In the 70s, industrial noises such as the steelworks’ “big hammer”, which could be heard for 30 miles, inspired Cabaret Voltaire and the Human League’s seminal early electronic music: it was literally the sound of Sheffield. McClure argues that the Sherlocks’ gritty anthems “speak to their audience in ways that Calvin Harris doesn’t”. Stats from Spotify back this up: the Sherlocks are 65% more popular in Yorkshire than the rest of the UK; the same is true for the Makers (78%) and staggeringly so for Milburn (97%). | In the 70s, industrial noises such as the steelworks’ “big hammer”, which could be heard for 30 miles, inspired Cabaret Voltaire and the Human League’s seminal early electronic music: it was literally the sound of Sheffield. McClure argues that the Sherlocks’ gritty anthems “speak to their audience in ways that Calvin Harris doesn’t”. Stats from Spotify back this up: the Sherlocks are 65% more popular in Yorkshire than the rest of the UK; the same is true for the Makers (78%) and staggeringly so for Milburn (97%). |
| “In the north, in general, people don’t talk about their problems,” considers Milburn’s Carnall. “Until they’ve had a drink, then it all comes pouring out. If you can get that into songs, it’s powerful. We’ve supported Noel [Gallagher] and when he plays Don’t Look Back in Anger, you’ll see grown men hugging each other, or in tears. Our song Storm in a Teacup is like that: we really pour out the chorus, and you can see that people feel it.” | “In the north, in general, people don’t talk about their problems,” considers Milburn’s Carnall. “Until they’ve had a drink, then it all comes pouring out. If you can get that into songs, it’s powerful. We’ve supported Noel [Gallagher] and when he plays Don’t Look Back in Anger, you’ll see grown men hugging each other, or in tears. Our song Storm in a Teacup is like that: we really pour out the chorus, and you can see that people feel it.” |
| When Carnall took a break from teaching to re-form the band last year, after people kept tweeting him asking him to do soby popular demand, he expected a little last hurrah before turning 30. However,they have barely stopped touring since, made a charting new album, Time (released in September 2017), and I watch him walk on stage at Leeds University to chants of “Milburn! Milburn!” Has he accepted being overshadowed by Arctic Monkeys? “If it ended tomorrow, I’d be happy with what we’ve done,” he smiles. “You know that saying: ‘Aim for the stars and you’ll hit the ceiling’? There’s a lot to be said for hitting the ceiling.” | When Carnall took a break from teaching to re-form the band last year, after people kept tweeting him asking him to do soby popular demand, he expected a little last hurrah before turning 30. However,they have barely stopped touring since, made a charting new album, Time (released in September 2017), and I watch him walk on stage at Leeds University to chants of “Milburn! Milburn!” Has he accepted being overshadowed by Arctic Monkeys? “If it ended tomorrow, I’d be happy with what we’ve done,” he smiles. “You know that saying: ‘Aim for the stars and you’ll hit the ceiling’? There’s a lot to be said for hitting the ceiling.” |
| The Sherlocks are touring to 16 Feb; Milburn and Reverend and the Makers play Bearded Theory festival, 24-27 May. | The Sherlocks are touring to 16 Feb; Milburn and Reverend and the Makers play Bearded Theory festival, 24-27 May. |
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