A Symphony of Memories: Richard Ashcroft Fills Leeds with Noise and Nostalgia

At the First Direct Arena on Thursday 2nd April, Richard Ashcroft filled the room with nostalgia, defiance, and shared emotion. Supported by rising Welsh indie band The Royston Club, the night moved between youthful memories and musical transcendence.

The Royston Club opened with a set that immediately leaned into the atmosphere. The room was lit up with spinning red and blue lights, and they had an unbeatable restless energy that fueled an incredible performance, feeling more like a headline than a support act. Frontman Tom Faithfull worked the Leeds crowd with ease, declaring, “we fucking love playing this beautiful city,” before being met with playful shouts of “Royston” from the crowd that mimicked the iconic Yorkshire chant. 

Tracks like ‘52’ saw the band at their most commanding, with Faithfull throwing his arms skyward, beckoning a roar from the crowd under intense blue lighting. Closing with ‘Cariad’, orange hues flooded the stage, and the audience raised their fists in unison. Between the support and the main act, a DJ spun vinyl alongside looping visuals of old-school wrestling, setting the stage for an artist whose career has defined decades.

Hang the DJ by The Smiths played over the speakers as blue lighting washed the arena, before Richard Ashcroft emerged and launched into ‘Space and Time’. The stage design was striking: a silhouette of his initials were formed by glowing bulbs, while disco-ball lighting scattered across the crowd, collapsing the distance between performer and audience. Ashcroft’s presence throughout was equal parts preacher and rock star. Reflecting on his career, he told the audience, “this has taken me all around the world, from Wigan to Leeds to Tokyo. Music has that power to bring us together… it has power that no politician or warmonger will ever have.” It was a statement that framed the entire set: music here wasn’t just entertainment, but a unifying force.

That spirit carried itself into ‘Music Is Power’. Backed by two female vocalists and a live string section, the performance carried that iconic Verve sound of orchestral depth, before Ashcroft paused to applaud his band in a telling moment of appreciation. The emotional peak came with the song ‘Break the Night with Colour’, which he thoughtfully dedicated to “anyone who has suffered with depression.” Ashcroft stepped down to the barrier, letting fans sing directly into his microphone as the arena echoed the lyrics back at him. Under rainbow lighting and drifting smoke, the line between artist and audience dissolved entirely.

Introducing ‘Velvet Morning’, an iconic song from his former band The Verve, he promised to take the crowd “down to a velvet morning, when things are so blissful,” as the stage lit up in red. Visually, Ashcroft leaned into his iconography with his unmistakable blue Adidas zip-up (which was mirrored by fans throughout the crowd), feeling like a symbol of shared identity. That sense of unity carried on during ‘The Drugs Don’t Work’, where he asked the audience to help with the chorus – and help they did. The entire audience sang the lyrics right back at him, and I must say that there were a few teary eyes as the crowd united in a deeply emotional understanding of one another.

Between songs, he reflected on love and gratitude: “I love you, me – that’s a northern phrase. The one I love the most is my wife, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her.” The arena responded with a Yorkshire chant, grounding the moment in regional pride. Ashcroft balanced this humility with self-awareness, joking: “I’m not arrogant, I just know I’ve written some of the greatest songs of my generation.” ‘Lucky Man’ turned the arena euphoric, with fans on shoulders and arms raised, as live violins echoed beneath the chorus. Ashcroft ended the song by throwing his guitar skyward, a gesture of release that perfectly matched the mood.

The encore pushed things even further. During ‘History’, he referenced William Blake with a grin: “I ripped off his poem big time. They called him crazy too – mad William and mad Richard”. Calling the audience his “Yorkshire angels,” he launched into the song that everyone was undoubtedly waiting for: ‘Bitter Sweet Symphony’. “Let’s take the fucking roof off now,” he urged, and of course, the crowd obliged. Bathed in golden light, fists raised across the arena, and the final moments were spectacular. Ashcroft downed a Guinness, pointed to a fan in recognition, then brought things to a close with a defiant flourish, striking his head against a tambourine and stretching his arms wide in appreciation for the audience. It wasn’t just a performance, but a reminder of what live music can do: collapse distance, suspend time, and bring thousands of people together.

Words by Katie Hawkins