TOM ROWLEY INTERVIEW: FROM SHEFFIELD STAGES TO SOLO SPOTLIGHT

Tom Rowley has spent most of his career just out of frame. Tom Rowley’s fingerprints are all over Arctic Monkeys’ later catalogue, having co-written tracks on Tranquillity Base Hotel and Casino and The Car. He’s also been a fixture of their live lineup, joining them on two global tours and becoming a quiet force behind the scenes.

Long before that, he helped shape Sheffield’s indie sound from the ground up, founding Milburn at just 14 and later writing and performing with Reverend & The Makers. Over the past two decades, Rowley has become one of the city’s most trusted collaborators, lending his guitar work, piano arrangements, and songwriting instincts to a generation of artists who define the Steel City’s musical legacy.

But now, for the first time, he’s stepping into the spotlight. His second single, “Rite Time”, is out now, not on Spotify, but via mailing list only. It’s raw, heartfelt, and unmistakably him.

I caught up with him to talk about going solo, recording at Valentine Studios in LA with producer Loren Humphrey (The Last Shadow Puppets, Florence and The Machine), his dislike of technology, and why he’s finally ready to let people hear his voice.

Tom Rowley smiles, looking relaxed yet alert. He has a kind, soft presence. It’s a Zoom chat, which is never my favourite, but Tom’s calm demeanour makes it an easy experience.

“I’ve just hit record before I forget,” I tell him, laughing. “That’s one of my famous tricks, forgetting to press record. Okay, let’s start at the beginning.”

Tom’s been in bands for years, including Milburn, Dead Sons, Reverend Makers, and Arctic Monkeys. He’s written countless songs, but until now, someone else has always sung them.

“You said in the past you never wanted to go solo,” I remind him. “So what’s changed?”

“Did I say that?” he laughs.

“So I’m told,” I respond with a chuckle.

“I don’t know. I guess you just get to a point where you want things to sound a certain way. Every time I wrote something, someone else would sing it, and it wouldn’t land how I envisioned it. So yeah, that’s probably why I’ve ended up doing it. I had a load of songs, and timing-wise, it made sense. We’d just finished touring, and the opportunity came to record in America. It all felt right.”

The album was recorded in Los Angeles with producer and drummer Loren Humphrey, whose analogue approach matched Tom’s own instincts.

“Loren’s an unbelievable drummer,” he says. “He played on the record, too. We asked Tyler Parkford to play keys, Zach Dawes to play bass. That’s the benefit of being in LA, we get to use the musicians. It made it so much better.”

Tom had tried recording the songs in Sheffield first, but something wasn’t clicking.

“They were okay,” he says, “but when we went out there, it just took everything to a new level. Loren’s got this old-school way of working straight to tape, no computers. And I kind of hate computers. So it worked well that we both had that view on modern technology. Same wavelength. Definitely. Without Loren, it would’ve been a different album.”

The sessions were fast-paced and deliberately raw.

“We had a week to get the tracks down. That was it. No going back. And I think that helped preserve the rawness. You don’t overthink. You just play. Sometimes thinking too much can ruin it. We wanted to honour those records from the past, like the seventies, when that’s how they did it. I think we achieved that.”

That rawness carried through to his live set at Leadmill, where the vulnerability of the material landed with quiet force.

“Yeah,” he nods. “That’s what we were going for.”

With two singles already out, “Tell Me What You Want” and “Rite Time,” I ask if there’s another one coming before the album drops.

“Yes, definitely,” he says. “We’ll have another single before the album, probably before Christmas. We just haven’t decided which one yet.”

Will it be similar to “Rite Time”?

“There’s a broad palette,” he says. “It’s not just one sound. Even the two singles are quite different. There’s piano-led tenderness, guitar solos, all sorts. The next one will be different again.”

Tom’s sitting on a vault of material ten albums’ worth, by his own estimate, but this collection felt too good to shelve.

“I’d write an album and then do nothing with it,” he says. “This time I thought, no, this is too good. So I picked eleven songs and recorded them. That’s the album.”

Some of the songs date back three years, written in dressing rooms on tour.

“You get a spare hour, sit down, write a song,” he says. “There are instruments everywhere. I didn’t have a piano at home, but on tour, there’s always one in the dressing room. So you sit down, and that leads you somewhere.”

I ask if he feels more exposed now, being the frontman.

“A bit of that,” he says. “The first gig was quite daunting at Crookes, I suppose, because it’s the first time I’ve ever done that. But I feel like now I understand what it is to be that person. The person at the front. It’s a strange feeling. It’s not something I set out to do. I just believe in these songs, and I really want people to hear them. So yeah, I’ve got to do it.”

New dates are coming for London, Leeds, and Manchester. I ask Tom which one he’s most looking forward to playing. “You’re not allowed to say London,” I joke.

“Manchester’s the one I’m most looking forward to,” he says.

I ask if he’s looking forward to going out to perform again.

“Yeah, definitely.”

The album is slated for spring next year, with another single likely dropping around Christmas. No title yet, “a few kicked about,” he says, “but nothing confirmed.”

I ask about his legacy, Milburn, Arctic Monkeys, Sheffield royalty. Does he want to carry that identity into his solo work or break free from it?

“I don’t really consider that, to be honest with you,” he says. “When you sit down and write a song, I don’t think like that. I just want the music to be heard.”

Tom’s got that grounded charm you’d expect from someone raised in Sheffield’s indie lineage, dry-humoured, unpretentious, and quietly assured. It’s part of what makes his solo work feel so direct.

“Rite Time” is out now, but we haven’t put it on Spotify. You’ve got to sign up for the mailing list to get the song.”

Is it a boycott, I ask?

“Not exactly. There’s no point in putting it on Spotify for us at this moment,” he says. “There’s no benefit, no financial benefit. We just wanted to try to build this fanbase up for the next release. People who really enjoy the music and want to come and see us. So we’ve got a dedicated fanbase. That’s why we’re doing it this way. Spotify has its purpose, he says, but it’s not for this.”

I tell him I’ll definitely come to Manchester.

“Brilliant,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”

Tom Rowley isn’t chasing algorithms or trying to reinvent his legacy. He’s simply making music the way he wants it heard, raw, analogue, and on his own terms. From dressing rooms to tape machines, from Sheffield to LA, this solo chapter isn’t about spectacle. It’s about clarity. About finally stepping forward with songs that carry his own voice, his vision, and his name.

Join the mailing list here: https://www.tomrowleymusic.com/

Tickets Leeds, Manchester and London: Tickets

Photography: Rob Nicholson – PEDALO

Interview: Rachel Brown