Month: September 2009

A deep-voiced, working-class songwriter with an affinity for ’50s-era crooners, American country music and grand orchestration, Richard Hawley has paid tribute to his hometown of Sheffield, England, through songwriting that serves as a sepia-toned photograph of timeless places and love-troubled lives. While it may seem as if nothing changes in Hawley’s stylishly retro work, sixth album Truelove’s Gutter (Mute) is a deceptively tranquil sea change of sonics—employing glass harmonica, waterphone and other ethereal sounds—and themes, with the album delving into lyrical topics of dashed hopes, drug addiction and, of course, love gone wrong. Befitting its title, Truelove’s Gutter finds Hawley trawling Sheffield’s shadows and back alleys on his most spacious, soul-baring album to date. Hawley is guest editing magnetmagazine.com this week. Read our Q&A with him.

Hawley: John D. Loudermilk is one of my favorite songwriters of all time. He’s a great American songwriter who has written through most of the second half of the 20th century. He wrote “Tobacco Road.” Need I say more? Video after the jump.

A deep-voiced, working-class songwriter with an affinity for ’50s-era crooners, American country music and grand orchestration, Richard Hawley has paid tribute to his hometown of Sheffield, England, through songwriting that serves as a sepia-toned photograph of timeless places and love-troubled lives. While it may seem as if nothing changes in Hawley’s stylishly retro work, sixth album Truelove’s Gutter (Mute) is a deceptively tranquil sea change of sonics—employing glass harmonica, waterphone and other ethereal sounds—and themes, with the album delving into lyrical topics of dashed hopes, drug addiction and, of course, love gone wrong. Befitting its title, Truelove’s Gutter finds Hawley trawling Sheffield’s shadows and back alleys on his most spacious, soul-baring album to date. Hawley is guest editing magnetmagazine.com this week. Read our Q&A with him.

Hawley: Oh dear. Supporting Sheffield Wednesday is a life issue; my earliest memory is standing on the kop, holding my grandfather’s hand. (All football grounds in Britain have a kop; it came first from Liverpool’s football club after a regiment of Liverpool soldiers were wiped out in the Boer War at a battleground called Spion Kop. True. Honest.) Anyway, in general, Wednesday aren’t very good, but I love them. It’s a loyalty thing. I haven’t been to a game for two years because of touring, but I always check the results. Usually, it’s not good, but when they win, I float above the ground. Well, for a while, at least. I don’t just sing when we’re winning.