I was born in Sheffield but spent some of my early years in America. A few of my earliest memories are of bright days and white terracotta buildings in Santa Barbara. Me, my mum and brother moved back to Sheffield when I was about five years old, where we lived in a few places – Manor Park, Norfolk Park and Deepcar – before settling in Hillsborough. You could say it was a change of scenery from California!
I went to school at Myrtle Springs, so most of my mates lived in Gleadless or Manor Top. After moving house, I’d get the bus from Deepcar or the tram from Hillsborough to meet friends at the other end of town. It was a fair trek, and I’ve lost track of the number of times I’d fall asleep on the 57 and wake up in Stocksbridge. I spent a lot of time on public transport, crossing over the city repeatedly, and this was before the days of smartphones to keep you occupied in those situations. It meant you spent a lot of time people-watching and watching life go by through the windows. I don’t know if that helped ignite a creative spark in me or perhaps an eye for a picture, but I’d spend a lot of time observing what was around me on those journeys.
I’d say I was pretty good at secondary school until about halfway through. I reconnected with an old friend, and we were probably bad influences on each other; we wanted to be like Vic and Bob, always joking and not taking things seriously. In a very Sheffield fashion, a lot of time in our teens was spent hanging around parks and fields, dicking about and playing football. I think there was a creative streak buried in there, for both me and my brother, but I’m not sure we had the means to express it back then.
That opportunity came a little later for my brother, Andy, who started playing bass and getting into music with some mates. They formed a band, Arctic Monkeys, and it wasn’t until I saw their debut gig at The Grapes that I thought to myself, ‘I could do that.’ Thanks to my mum’s music influence, I found Oasis in the 90s, which led me to bands like The Stone Roses, The Jam, The Clash, and The Beatles. I bought myself a beautiful Les Paul guitar, which Alex Turner came around to tune, but I basically just made a load of noise on it and threw it around a bit. It wasn’t until after watching that gig at The Grapes that I picked up the guitar and started learning properly.
“I spent a lot of time on public transport, crossing over the city repeatedly, and this was before the days of smartphones … It meant you spent a lot of time people-watching and watching life go by through the windows. I don’t know if that helped start a creative spark in me or perhaps an eye for a picture, but I’d spend a lot of time observing what was around me.” © Pedalo
The first band I played in was called The Wanted. We were unashamedly Britpop. The highlight for us was probably a gig at The Leadmill supporting The Complete Stone Roses! But before that, we’d play places like The Deep End in Hillsborough, The Grapes and I even remember a dicey gig in a heavy metal pub on Eccy Road. We also played The Boardwalk and The Leadmill, which made you feel like you’d hit the big time. We’d rehearse at Attic Studios in Neepsend, us playing in one room, [Arctic] Monkeys in the other, and we’d often meet in the middle for a game of pool. It was a pretty crazy time for the music scene in the city, and I don’t mind admitting that seeing my brother’s success really made me want to achieve something in a band.
After my time in The Wanted came to an end, I joined another band called Dead World Leaders. We did pretty well, played around the country and even won ‘Best Band’ at the Exposed Awards! My mum still has the award on show in her downstairs loo. It was a slog at times, though. There were nights we’d hire a van, drive all the way to London to play a gig in the hope there’d be A&R people watching, and then you’d drive back with nothing but a free crate of lager. We played some fairly big shows with bands like Milburn and The Enemy, but eventually, it ran its course. We had a meeting in The Washy where we decided to call it a day.
Around that time, I was also playing with Steve Edwards in a band called Lords of Flatbush, which was a great experience and brilliant to work with a big personality and singer like Steve. We rehearsed at Yellow Arch Studios, and I’ll never forget coming in and seeing Don Letts in one of the rooms. He came to watch us play a couple of songs and complimented me on one of the basslines, which I’m pretty sure he knew was pinched from a Clash song!
After getting out of music, there was a ten-year period of wondering what I was going to do. It felt like all of my mates were doing creative stuff and I struggled to find or understand my place. I think a lot of people who came out of that noughties Sheffield music scene without much to show for it kind of muddled along for a bit. I worked at the Threads club night, tried a bit of DJing, did jobs in retail, and basically saw where things took me for a while. It wasn’t until I found photography that I managed to find a new sense of direction.
It felt like all of my mates were doing creative stuff and I struggled to find or understand my place. I think a lot of people who came out of that noughties Sheffield music scene without much to show for it kind of muddled along for a bit.
Cameras and photography have been in the background of my life for a long time. My uncle was a photographer for The Star, and I remember admiring his cameras as a youngster. My brother, too, picked up photography later and I recall feeling inspired by what he was creating. But it wasn’t until the start of the first lockdown that I thought to myself, ‘I’m going to get a camera.’ I was furloughed from work and looking for something to try out. I bought a second-hand camera from Harrisons, some cheap lenses, and went out to take photos, sharing bits on social media.
My friend, James, owns a number of bars in Sheffield. He’d seen some of the pictures I’d been sharing, and he asked me if I’d be interested in doing some promotional stuff for his bars at some point down the line. We’d started spending a lot of time cycling in the Peaks, where we talked about this idea further, and he came up with the idea of starting a photography business together. Since we’d spent a lot of time discussing this when out on the bikes, the name Pedalo was suggested.
Rob is now one half of Pedalo Photography, a creative venture that was initially conceived during bike rides through the scenic Peak District. © Pedalo
Pedalo started off doing photography for bars and restaurants in Sheffield. Initially, it was for free, as these places were feeling the pinch of the pandemic, and it also allowed us the chance to experiment and hone our photography skills. It grew quickly: I branched out from hospitality shoots to working on a wide range of projects. I’ve had the opportunity to shoot everything from a Sheffield FC kit launch to a Pete McKee exhibition. Recently, I took photos of former chancellors George Osborne and Ed Balls for their podcast launch. It feels like I’ve found my lane, and in terms of clients, to this day I’ve never had to approach one, which is partly down to being a place like Sheffield – everyone seems to know everyone and mutual friends can get in touch!
“I branched out from hospitality shoots to working on a wide range of projects. I’ve had the opportunity to shoot everything from a Sheffield FC kit launch to a Pete McKee exhibition.” © Pedalo
For me, Sheffield’s an ideal city to be a photographer in. We recently scouted some locations for a shoot and within half an hour had found the perfect mix of brutalist and modern, urban and nature. Not many places have that. You look at some of the artists who’ve come from here, right across a wide range of disciplines and genres, and it’s genuinely impressive for a city this size. It’s just an inspiring place, a fantastic canvas to get creative on. I couldn’t think of a better place to do what I do. Everything I need is here.
■ As told to Joseph Food
