Back From Hell

Richard Hawley loves a laugh. The hearty cackle that emanates from his large frame is almost reminiscent of Frank Carson, a stalwart of the northern working men’s club scene, where coincidentally Hawley’s ribald stage banter would not be out of place. The steelworker’s son from Sheffield also tells a ripping good yarn. In town to promote his fifth opus Lady’s Bridge, our pre-show interview in Vicar St. is packed with them.

“I used to play on acid,” he confesses at one point in our conversation, which covers all 26 of his years as a working musician. “Not as a solo artist; years and years ago. There was a bar is Sheffield called the Hallamshire. I played there with my first band, Treebound Story, and Pulp played there too. There were only two lights, one was green and one was red and when it was red I’d stop playing. (Hoots). The manager of the band used to run to the back of the room saying, ‘Quick get it on fucking green.’”
Composing himself, he adds: “But now, I never touch drugs. I reached 40 this year, it’s a miracle I made it.”
Hawley has certainly packed a lot of living into his four decades – on the road since the age of 14, world tours with ‘90s indie rockers Longpigs and with mate Jarvis Cocker as Pulp’s guitarist. And more recently, he's enjoyed success as a solo artist with five top notch longplayers under his belt, including the Mercury-nominated Cole’s Corner and its endearing successor Lady’s Bridge.
The chosen title for his latest work acknowledges his having reached this milestone.
“I use the bridge as a metaphor for crossing from one point of your life to another," he explains. “Surviving the years of the ravages of drugs and drink and actually still being here.”
He trails off shaking his head.
“I lost my Dad during the recording of the record. He'd been ill for a long time. My Dad has crossed many bridges with me in my life and he couldn’t cross this one. That's partly what it alludes to also.”
Hawley’s father was a talented guitarist who in his day backed John Lee Hooker, Memphis Slim and Muddy Waters and regularly entertained in Sheffield’s infamous Club 60. The cover shot of Lady’s Bridge shows a pensive Hawley seated on the very stage where his father once held court. The father/son bond remained strong until the last, with Richard visiting his dying father daily.
“I’d get up in the morning, go in and see my Dad in the hospice and then go to the studio. I'd work and then visit him late at night because he couldn’t sleep.”
Breaking into a smile he adds, “The last thing he'd say to me each night was (affects deeper fatherly tone), ‘Don’t forget me ale ‘n’ fags’.”
Hawley senior recognised his son’s early obsession with music and didn't stand in the way of the 14-year-old going on the road as guitarist with his uncle’s band. Surely an eye-opening experience for a young teenager?
“My eyes have been permanently widened ever since!” he laughs. “Dad told my Mum that we were playing nice theatres and there might be a few clubs. He knew what I was going through. But he knew if I was going to be a professional musician I'd have to toughen up.”
The reality on the road was quite different to the sanitised stories his mother was told.
“We played strip bars mainly,” he grins. “That was an eye-opener and a half. There was one gig in Tilburg, I remember it vividly. There was a circular stage with curtains down the middle. We were behind the curtains playing blues and this girl would come on and take her kit off. Then she’d get off, the curtains would open and the stage would revolve. We’d play a fifteen minute set before the next girl. All the dirty old men would lift their papers up and ignore us!”
The experience only served to instill greater determination. His first band Treebound Story enjoyed a considerable level of local success, releasing four EPs and most importantly gaining a stamp of approval from John Peel. Hawley glows with pride.
“Peely loved us,” he says. “He was, apart from being a lovely bloke, such a culturally important character. Without him the whole music scene in our country would be quite barren. It was a badge of honour for us that he liked us.”
Success further afield came with ‘90s indie combo The Longpigs. But with a gruelling tour schedule and acute drug problems, it wasn't long before Hawley found himself unravelling.
“I was in a right tangle,” he admits. “I missed home so much. I was the only member of the band that had a child and I just didn’t see her for eight years. I was hardly at home and when I was I was a gibbering wreck. The work load was ridiculous. We did 27 days on the trot without a break and had one day travelling and then 28 gigs again. We repeated that cycle for nine months. I was fucked by the end of it. It’s an inhuman existence. The only thing that gets you through is being out of your head.
“I buried myself in drugs and alcohol and my personality changed. I was very ‘gregarious’ shall we say, but ‘a gobshite’ would probably be a more accurate description. The last big tour with The Longpigs was like a fucking snow blizzard. We split up and I just decided to pack in drugs completely. It was going to cost me my marriage, my career and everything. I just said, 'It's got to stop.' I was doing so much, I was so addicted to so many things and I had got myself into a real mess.”
Hawley’s wife, who was a psychiatric nurse at the time, was instrumental in his recovery.
“I probably should have gone to rehab but I didn’t," he says. “My wife said, 'OK, you lock yourself in this bedroom for two weeks and I’ll bring food up to you. You’re not leaving the house’.”
His tone darkens and he leans forward for emphasis.
“I went through the ninth circle of hell. Luckily I came out the other side. I made a promise to myself. And when you're addicted to things you have to. I decided that I would never, ever, ever touch any drug ever again, apart from nicotine and alcohol, I’ve got to have something.”
As he leans back in his chair, the mood lightens again.
“Sobriety frightens me over long periods of time,” he admits. “If I’m sober for too long a time the world comes a bit too close and I stop laughing. I’ve got a wicked sense of humour and I like to enjoy life.”
Another turning point in Hawley’s life was the day he received the call from Jarvis Cocker asking him to join Pulp.
“I was at home, I remember the day. It was December 18 1997. There are certain points in my life that I remember specifically and the rest is a blur. It was just before Christmas and I'd got back off a nine-month tour with The Longpigs and I was fucked. Cocker rang me up, and said, ’I want you to come out on the road with me’.”
Jarvis played an important role in Hawley’s rehabilitation and the pair remain firm friends.
“Jarvis has always been supportive, all through my life. The world is a better place with Jarvis Cocker in it and my world is definitely a better place. I think the feeling may possibly be mutual.”
Another call from his Sheffield cohort resulted in Hawley working with one of his idols, who's now a family friend.
“Jarvis rang me up and asked me to go to New York with him to produce sessions for Nancy Sinatra,” he enthuses. “I was really worried about it because she's a heroine of mine and I've admired her for years. I was worried that she was going to be an arsehole. It couldn’t have been further from the truth, she’s like my big sister, we contact each other regularly now, she’s lovely.”
Hawley is noted for his extensive work as a session musician and producer and has a colourful CV. One interesting constituent is the guitar work for All Saints’ version of ‘Under The Bridge’.
“That session was just me and Nellee Hooper,” he explains. “He said, ‘I want you to replicate this’. I did the intro and played the guitars on it and then me and him got pissed. The girls came in, heard it, said, ‘That’s good,’ and then went shopping. Not a great meeting of musical minds by a long stretch.”
A more compatible venture was his support slot with self-professed fans REM, which again comes with a comical anecdote.
“The phone rang one day when I was in the shower,” he begins. “I got out and answered it and a voice said, ‘Hey Richard, it’s Mike Mills here from REM.’ I stood there in a towel dripping wet and just went, ‘Fuck off John!’ and hung up.” (Laughs)
“I thought it was my friend John who used to play tricks on me regularly. I got back in the shower and the phone went again. I answered and the voice said, ‘No man, it really is Mike Mills’ and I was like, ‘Oh fuck, sorry mate.’
“He said, ‘We’re doing these dates in England and we want you to play with us.’ I'd read an interview where they said the first thing they were going to do when they came to England is to go to a record shop and buy all Richard Hawley’s albums. That really did my head in. I love the band, they’re one of the great bands of the last few decades.”
Hawley’s own career trajectory has been firmly in the ascent since the release of the Mercury-nominated Cole’s Corner. On the night the award went to fellow Sheffield residents The Arctic Monkeys, but on accepting his gong Alex Turner commented, “Someone dial 999, Richard Hawley’s been robbed.”
“The Mercurys was the first time I met Alex,” he muses. “He told me he used to serve me beer when he worked in The Boardwalk Pub in Sheffield. I never knew who he was but he used to recognise me.”
In typical down-to-earth Sheffield fashion, Hawley has little time for the associated airs and graces that accompany awards.
“I got awarded Arena Man of the Year recently,” he splutters. “It’s a fucking joke. Racing drivers win that award. A speccy twat from Sheffield winning, that’s just ridiculous.”
He continues, “My wife exploited that immensely. She kept sending me texts saying, ‘Now then Man Of The Year, pick the kids up from school,’ and, ‘Now Man Of The Year, can you get some milk? We've run out.’
“All that award did for me was enable my missus to take the unmerciless piss out of me. That’s what I love about Sheffield, your head can never get big, you’ll be brought down to earth with a bang.”
Hawley’s love for his home town is obvious. Part of his tour merchandise is a special promotional bottle of local favourite Henderson’s Relish which is apparently “smashing with sausage and mash”.
In addition to that, the local brewery Kelhamisland has a special beer for each of Hawley’s albums.
He enthuses, “They sell them in 250 pubs, you can buy a pint of Lady's Bridge and a pint of Cole's Corner, a pint of Lowedges and so on. My Dad said, ‘You’ve cracked it now son, they’ve named ale after you.’ That’s marvellous that, he was so proud.”
And there’s that hearty cackle again.

Lady's Bridge is out now on Rough Trade