On a cold Sunday afternoon in Sheffield, Sidney & Matilda played host to a matinee show that transported the audience somewhere far warmer, both in sound and spirit. Curated and supported by Bobby Lee, this was a gig that felt intimate, immersive, and, at times, utterly transcendent.
Bobby Lee and his trio – comprising himself on guitar, alongside a bassist ad drummer are a tight unit that opened the show with a set of sun-flecked, instrumental soundscapes. While their music carried an ambitious, almost experimental edge, at its heart, it remained deeply melodic pop songs in structure, if not always in execution. But these weren’t just songs; they were journeys, sonic explorations that wove together strands of Americana, psychedelia, and folk. The standout (for me at least) was The HR Managers Beautiful Daughter, a band favourite that shimmered with a loose, hypnotic groove. Between songs, Lee’s South Yorkshire drawl was a grounding contrast to the far-flung horizons of his music, but it only added to the charm. Certainly, a band to keep an eye on.
Then came Ryley Walker, ambling onto the stage in joggers, a shirt, and a baseball cap, looking every bit like someone who might have just stepped out to pick up the Sunday papers. But any notion of the ordinary disappeared the moment he put fingers to strings. Walker’s talent is something else entirely.
For close to an hour, he held the sold-out crowd in absolute awe. His fingerpicking was jaw-dropping, intricate yet effortless, fluid yet precise. At times, there were audible gasps from the audience as he pulled off moments of sheer guitar brilliance, yet it never felt like virtuosity for virtuosity’s sake. Every note served the song. Every flourish had purpose.
Between songs, his easy, unassuming manner gave way to glimpses of sharp humour, world-weariness, and, particularly when discussing the state of his homeland, touch of frustration. ‘Anyone out there I can marry, so I can get out of there?’ he joked at one point, hinting at his disillusionment with American politics. But what was most evident was his deep love for music itself. His set moved between his own compositions The Roundabout and Rang Dizzy being standouts, while also tipping a hat to Britains musical heritage, with a Magazine cover and a beautifully rendered Anne Briggs folk number.
By the end of the set, the audience was left almost in a state of reverence. As Walker stepped off the stage and made his way through the crowd, there was a palpable sense that we had witnessed something special – an afternoon that started in Sheffield but, through music, had taken us somewhere much, much further.
