Richard Ashcroft photographed at the Utilita Arena in Birmingham, April 2026.

I’ve always had a soft spot for big, anthemic songs with a hint of melancholia, so The Verve—and Ashcroft’s unmistakable voice—have long been on my radar. He’s one of those artists who just looks right on stage too—effortlessly cool, totally at ease—which makes him a great subject to photograph.

And clearly, I’m not the only one who feels that way. The crowd at the Utilita Arena was a real mix: longtime fans reliving the 90s alongside younger listeners experiencing these songs in a live setting for the first time.

Ashcroft walked onstage with the kind of relaxed swagger that only comes from years of doing this, immediately owning the space. His voice was in excellent form—strong, clear, and carrying effortlessly right to the back of the arena. There’s a confidence in how he delivers songs now; he lets them breathe, stretching moments just enough to let the emotion land without ever overdoing it.

The staging was simple. Two giant illuminated letters—“A” and “S”—framed the stage, while a focused spotlight kept attention squarely on him. No elaborate visuals, no over-the-top production. And honestly, none of that felt necessary. His presence alone filled the space. Backed by a tight, unobtrusive band, the whole setup felt deliberately understated, allowing the songs to take centre stage.

That atmosphere is what really sticks with you. There’s something special about hearing thousands of people singing along to songs like these. It’s nostalgic, sure, but not in a tired way. It feels alive, like these songs still mean something right now, not just back then.

Even from the pit, camera in hand, it was hard not to get caught up in it. I found myself wishing I’d bought a ticket and stayed to watch the rest properly—less through a lens, more as part of that shared moment.