Tramlines, Sheffield and the Universe
So here we are in Sheffield, exploring both the grassroots Fringe and the more commercial Tramlines Festival music events. Quite how this happened I put down to serendipity, or perhaps the universe choosing a path towards new experiences, a concept I’ve become more accepting of in later life.
A few years ago, both Emma and I received a gig alert telling us that five bands we liked and followed were all playing at a festival just down the road from here in north Derbyshire. We’d never heard of Bearded Theory, but on the basis that they had a bunch of our top picks performing, we booked tickets and trotted off.
Completely by chance, we pitched our tent smack bang in the middle of a corner of the campsite usually occupied by a group who travel the relatively short distance from Sheffield every year. Far from being miffed that we’d claimed a huge patch of ground normally reserved for their friends (we have a 5m bell tent with awning), they simply adopted us as their own and invited us into their tribe, thankfully without any painful A Man Called Horse-style initiation rituals.
Wind the clock forward five years and here we are exploring the city of Sheffield, having met up with these new friends every year since in that very same corner of a remote Derbyshire field.
Oh and why is it called Tramlines – hmmmm can’t think!
The Fringe – Friday
Despite being raised in Manchester, just the other side of the Pennines, this was only Emma’s third visit to Sheffield, and only my second after a brief trip to celebrate St John’s 60th birthday a few months ago.
Tramlines festival weekend is possibly one of the very best times to explore the city, particularly from both a music and history perspective.
For those who don’t know, the Tramlines Fringe is actually much bigger than the paid-for festival that now takes place in Hillsborough Park. It’s a celebration of live music that’s been going on for even longer. One of Europe’s best metropolitan music festivals, it remains largely free and is hosted across dozens of pubs, bars and clubs throughout the city. It really is a community event.
When it was first suggested we’d be visiting during Tramlines, Jim, one of the Bearded Theory crew, kindly offered to host us. We were warned, however, that there was a chance he wouldn’t actually be around, as he’d be up in Orkney taking part in an archaeological dig with Time Team for Channel 4/Youtube. As it happened, that’s exactly what transpired.
So Emma and I found ourselves staying in a house in central Sheffield while its owner was 550 miles further north, being battered by driving wind and rain, while we basked in glorious sunshine.
John, a good friend of our host who lives just a few hundred yards away, met us on arrival and kindly mapped out a route to make sure we experienced enough venues to get a proper flavour of both the music and the city’s culture. We were being thoroughly spoiled and couldn’t have wished for a better guide. He really knows his stuff.
Our first stop was Hagglers Corner where, after catching the very last knockings of a set by local band Take Four, we were blown away by Bad Actors, a funk-rock duo known as The Men in Orange. We all agreed this is a band with huge personality, and they soon had the place bouncing.
We stayed long enough to enjoy their full set and grab something to eat. Fish, prawns, mussels, rice and chips, all lightly spiced and served through a tiny serving hatch in a disposable paper container. It was surprisingly delicious, exceeded all expectations.
Fuelled up, we headed off on the short walk to Jabberwocky on London Road, another must-visit venue in this part of the city. Here we bumped into a a few of the Bearded Theory crew, some of whom are pictured below, others out of shot.
We were here at Jabberwocky primarily to see Åyusp, a Sheffield-based duo who have been together since 2016. We know one half of the partnership, Graham (from the Bearded Theory group), who, together with Paul, had the venue transfixed throughout their set.
They brought along enough keyboards, synths and other kit to occupy half the dance floor (and I’m told that’s only half of it), and the sound? Well, I’ve since learned it’s called Kosmische or “cosmic” in English, drawing its influence from the early German electronic music scene. I’ve been on a steep learning curve this weekend and am beginning to discover just how interconnected Sheffield, its music and its musicians really are
We stayed on for the next artist, Isis Moray, whose melancholic vocals were layered over what I’d describe as atmospheric and a rather haunting sound. Then again, I’m no music critic, just grabbing at words that seem to fit.
A group of us then wandered further along London Road to The Beer Engine for a few (you guessed it) more beers; this is where we stayed until they eventually kicked us out! It was so lovely meeting up with some of the Bearded Theory crew in their natural habitat (trying not to sound too much like David Attenborough).
We even managed to bump into JON en-route to his feeding ground with Kathy on his birthday… Small world this Sheffield innit!
Saturday
Saturday saw us taking the long walk from our base up in the hills, to the spiritual home of Tramlines, Devonshire Green. This is where the event was originally staged before the crowds became simply too large, forcing a move to Hillsborough Park (via Ponderosa Park) for public safety reasons.
I’m told it was Public Enemy’s appearance in 2014 that really convinced the organisers the event had outgrown the site. John was there that day. Apparently, things got a little messy.
From there we wandered the streets, seeing first-hand just how many venues participate in the annual Fringe. It marked the beginning of a day spent very much in “absorb mode”, taking in the sights and sounds while listening to John enthusiastically recount Sheffield’s rich musical history. His passion for the city is infectious.
Our next stop was Cambridge Street Collective, one of Europe’s largest purpose-built food halls, where we were confronted by a frankly ridiculous choice of food offerings from every corner of the globe. It’s well worth knowing about if you ever find yourself in Sheffield.
Once we’d found somewhere to sit, a member of staff from one of the bars came over to ask if we’d like drinks with our food and, in proper European style, brought them over to the table. How civilised!
We’d arrived via Leah’s Yard, where more live music was being played amongst local independent traders. Before leaving, we popped into Pete McKee’s gallery. He’s a Sheffield artist whose work brilliantly captures nostalgic childhood memories from t’North.
Our next port of call was The Washington, another trip down memory lane for John, where we were joined by Graham. There was yet more live music, although this was perhaps more what John described as “generic” than anything particularly memorable.
From there we headed to Network Sheffield, a music venue complete with an outdoor courtyard designed with summer festivals in mind. We’d bought tickets in advance for Kabal Dayer and met up with Jon, Kathy and friends for a birthday celebration. What a fantastic venue and what a genuinely friendly bunch of people.
We could hear the bass from over half a mile away, and while we’d have loved to stay longer, both Emma and I knew our tinnitus would soon put paid to that idea. Even with earplugs, the volume and bass was simply too much. So, somewhat reluctantly, we slipped away and headed towards The Rutland, with a brief stop at The Roebuck Tavern on the way.
The Rutland, another of John’s old haunts, provided the opportunity for a couple more beers, a portion of chips and the careful avoidance of putting anything controversial on the jukebox that might have earned us a chorus of boos.
Our penultimate venue was the Hallamshire Hotel, where we watched Wench, an all-female band, in the main room before heading downstairs to the “disco” area, which was wonderfully retro in both décor and music.
A crowd of teenagers were enthusiastically singing along to songs that were in the charts when I was a lad. That’s a bit like me bopping along to the hits of the 1940s… hmm.
That said, I can happily sing along to plenty of Del Shannon, Bobby Vee and other artists from the late 1950s, courtesy of my parents’ record collection, so perhaps it’s not quite such a crazy thought.
Our final destination of the evening was Shakespeares, one last band, Gaydar, and, inevitably, one last beer before calling it a night.
Tramlines – Sunday
Our first experience of the main Tramlines Festival, with four standout performances to take away. More on those in a moment.
But first, we met up with Hannah and her buddies, who had spent the entire weekend at the festival.
The weather was just about perfect. High winds meant a constantly changing sky. Blue one minute, grey the next. Warm, but not too hot, and we even experienced the first rain we’d seen for weeks. It amounted to little more than a light shower, not enough to leave anyone uncomfortably wet, but just enough to keep the dust down.
We stuck around at the main stage for Lottery Winners before battling our way towards the front for Reverend and the Makers.
Now, admitting to anyone from Sheffield that we’d only just discovered this band tends to earn you a rather puzzled look, so we’ve stopped mentioning it!
Their set was awesome and, having spent the past few weeks listening to their back catalogue, I knew every song they played… and all the words. I felt like a teenager again.
We also found ourselves right on the edge of the mosh pit, or “wheel of death” zone, which, in true English fashion, was remarkably polite, gentle and wonderfully good-natured.
We also managed to catch both Brooke Combe, whose set was unfortunately cut short, and The Royston Club. The latter are one of Hannah’s favourites, although they’re not really my cup of tea. Then again, I’m probably about as far removed from their target audience as it’s possible to be, so that’s hardly surprising. I felt like I was at a sixth form meeting, and more phone screens in the air than I’d seen all weekend.
The other standout performance of the day for me was Wolf Alice, who absolutely nailed it. It was one of those performances that genuinely gives you goosebumps.
I also have to admit I’m still dreaming about the moment Ellie Rowsell looked straight down the camera lens – towards me! (Well thats what I have told myself).
Farewell
So, all in all, a fantastic weekend. Between the Fringe and the main festival, we’ve experienced an incredible amount of live music, discovered new venues, learned a little more about Sheffield’s remarkable musical heritage and, most importantly, spent time with both family and friends.
It’s one of those weekends that would probably never have happened had Emma and I not randomly pitched our tent in that exact corner of a Derbyshire field five years ago.
Call it chance, serendipity or simply the universe nudging us gently in a different direction. Whatever the reason, I’m very glad it did.