It is a rare and precious occasion when a rock artist of calibre and conviction offers not just his time, but his candour, depth, and vulnerability for an in-depth conversation. Interviewing Rob Wheeler was precisely that – a privilege and an honour. Few musicians today are willing to go beyond surface-level PR and truly open up about their influences, struggles, and creative philosophies. Rob did just that.
His album launch concert will be at the Green Note in Camden on June 11th (2025).
With a refreshing blend of insight, emotional transparency, and wry humour, Rob brought his full self to the table – a genuine rebel not for show, but for substance. I can only hope you’ll enjoy reading this conversation as much as I enjoyed conducting it.
And before you dive in, a reminder: don’t miss the chance to see Rob Wheeler live during his upcoming tour – especially his much-anticipated London gig on 11 June in Camden Town. It promises to be a night of powerful storytelling, musical authenticity, and raw energy – all the things this interview foreshadows so vividly.
Have fun reading.
About Leave Tomorrow & His Musical Journey
Your new album, Leave Tomorrow, blends your Cheshire roots with Nashville influences. What was it like writing and recording in Music City? Did it change the way you approach songwriting?
Rob Wheeler (RW): Nashville is to country music songwriters what Hollywood is to aspiring actors. We are drawn to its history and heritage like moths to light. The big thing I took away from my time in Nashville – aside from an album I am extremely proud of – was a newfound love of collaboration. Co-writing and sharing ideas is a huge part of the Nashville songwriting experience, and I had always been quite guarded and insular as a writer. It opened my eyes and ears to musical partnerships.
There’s a strong theme of hope and escape in your album. What personal experiences shaped these songs?
RW: As a child of a single parent who was herself a creative and a free spirit, we were always encouraged to be imaginative, and I think children who experience difficult circumstances can channel that into dreams and aspirations. Books and music were such a big part of my childhood; I would lose myself in them, and from an early age it conjured a wanderlust inside me. Those imagined feelings of hope and escape grew and manifested into reality in my adult life, and naturally I think they are now always in my songs – even when I’m not consciously writing about them.
You’ve worked with legendary songwriters like Jeff Trott and Steve Dorff. What’s the most valuable lesson they taught you about crafting a great song?
RW: To challenge myself! Is this the best lyric? Is this truly saying what I want to say, or does it just fit? Is this an expression of me, or does it just rhyme nicely? All of the writers I worked with in Nashville were challenging me to go deeper and explore the feelings. I think it really shows on this new record.
Northern Country is a unique space in UK music. Do you feel like a pioneer in bringing this sound to a new audience?
RW: So the Northern Country thing is something I’m quite proud of, as it was a name I came up with to try and explain what I’m doing. I adore country music – the soundscape just carries me away – and I think the musicality and feel of it is what has captured the imaginations of UK fans, who are going through a real love affair with country right now. But I also feel a little bit disappointed that a lot of UK artists are very much trying to emulate their American counterparts.
With all of my music, I am very conscious that my frame of reference is always seen through the eyes of someone who was born and raised in the north of England. In my experience, that adds a very important ingredient – authenticity – a key aspect of all good country music. At the end of the day, a broken heart is a broken heart – whether you’re in Nashville or Newcastle! But I’ve never been to a tailgate party in Cheshire, haha!
“Mount Juliet” is a deeply personal track, almost like a letter to your younger self. What would you tell that younger version of Rob Wheeler now?
RW: I love the idea of doing this, but I have to wonder just how much a younger Rob Wheeler would listen or even believe anything I had to say… I had developed such strong and defensive armour around myself; I felt like the whole world was against me. I think the main thing I’d say to myself is, “You’re going to be OK,” and just hug it out – because I think I needed to hear that back then.
Rock Rebels & Musical Inspirations
Your influences range from The Beatles to Johnny Cash. Who would you say is the ultimate rock rebel, and why?
RW: I’ve never been impressed by rebellion for the sake of it… I’ve always been impressed by quiet rebellion. Intelligent rebellion. The way that Dylan was singing anti-war folk songs to an American audience who were conflicted over Vietnam. The Beatles refusing to play to segregated audiences in the Southern states on their American tour. Marvin Gaye going against his own record label’s wishes and releasing What’s Going On? because he knew the message was more important than his marketability. To me, that’s the ultimate rebellion – using art and music to speak up for good.
Country music has always been about storytelling, much like classic rock. What parallels do you see between country’s outlaws and rock’s rebels?
RW: Probably the most common thread is the way it connects to people. Every day, our lives are hit by love, loss, tragedy, happiness, chaos, calm – and all through it, we have our own soundtrack. The songs that remind us of those moments, or that take us back to a face we can’t see anymore. Rock, country, pop, folk, indie, soul, and all the little genres in between share this thread. They offer a three-minute summary of our emotions, and it makes you feel connected to something bigger than yourself. I’ve even heard people speak of music as a religious experience… and what’s really amazing is when you realise you’ve become part of that, and one of your songs has now connected to somebody’s life. It’s the biggest compliment I can receive. I’m not sure that record label executives and billionaire streaming moguls understand any of this. The connection comes from ordinary people experiencing real-life events, turning it into art, and that art connecting with more ordinary people – it’s ours, it belongs to us!
If you could sit down for a pint with one musical icon—alive or dead—who would it be, and what would you ask them?
RW: I’d love to sit down with Hank Williams… ask him how he felt about his legacy. He changed country music forever in the space of just four years. He suffered with an undiagnosed medical condition that had him abusing alcohol and pills just to get through the day… a trailblazer and a true legend. I think a legend is someone who changes the game from what came before – that’s Hank! The hillbilly Shakespeare!
Some of the best music comes from rebellion. Do you think rock (or country) still has that power to shake things up in today’s world?
RW: I think it’s more important now than ever – the world is divided on everything, yet music has the power to connect. Sonically speaking, music doesn’t care about country borders, race, gender, age, or what job you do… it’s too pure for that. Artists like Sam Fender and Post Malone are proving that you can have a positive message and wrap it up in great music that crosses genres and political views. Music is perhaps one of the few remaining things in the world that can still make a difference – but we need to change the landscape of how and where it’s delivered if it has any chance of surviving.
What’s the most rebellious thing you’ve ever done as a musician?
Rob Wheeler: I’m not really a rebellious person, and my first thought was a time when we downed instruments with my band at a gig when a bunch of neo-Nazis walked in and wanted us to play for them… we refused. But is that rebellious? I just think that’s having your moral compass in check! I’m all for the intellectual rebellion – fight if you have to, not because you want to.
The Meaning of Music in a Divisive World
In a time when the world feels increasingly divided, do you believe music still has the power to unite people?
Rob Wheeler: I really do – as I mentioned before, it may be one of the last true things that can unite people, because music in its purest form crosses all the boundaries humans create. But as music becomes less and less about the art form, and more and more about beating algorithms, it’s in danger of becoming sterile. And don’t even get me started on AI!
Songs like “Throw a Little Light My Way” carry a message of hope. Do you see yourself as an artist who wants to inspire change?
RW: I sincerely hope that all my songs have a positive message in them. I see myself as someone who believes in the good in the world – the kindness, the love – and I want that to live in my songs. I think that the message of hope and love speaks to my fans, and I’m in awe of the way that my fan community has become like a family. They all take care of each other, and my live shows have become like a family get-together – it’s so wholesome. If I inspire anything, I hope that it’s love and kindness to each other. And if that encourages just one person to be more kind – I think that’s an incredibly powerful thing.
Many legendary artists used their platform to challenge the status quo—Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash, John Lennon. Is there a message you hope your music leaves behind?
RW: Be kind, but also be appreciative. We have such a beautiful world, and we are not taking care of it. I sometimes wish we would all just look up from our phones and TVs a little bit more. My gran passed away last year, and I was so lucky to have her as a guide. She taught me to smell the flowers, be kind to the little insects, close your eyes and listen to the ocean, look at the stars, appreciate everything… I want to pass her message on, and I say it at every live show – try every day to see the magic in the world.
What’s crazy is – this simple message is now challenging the status quo. Isn’t that madness?! Who would have thought, in the last ten years, that kindness and tolerance would be rebranded by certain factions as “leftism” or “woke”, haha.
Looking ahead, where do you see the future of rock and country? Do you think we’ll see a new wave of rebels shaking up the industry?
Rob Wheeler: I think the future of rock and country is in great danger, simply because of the way music is released and consumed – it’s simply unsustainable. And because of that, we’re probably never going to hear the next Bruce Springsteen, the next Black Sabbath, the next Sheryl Crow, the next AC/DC – because bands can’t afford to live and work their way up to a place in the industry where they can make a living, pay their bills, and eat. There is a socioeconomic issue with kids from lower-income, or zero-income homes, getting access to instruments and studio time – so where are the rebels going to come from if they can’t even afford a guitar? Honestly, these are really worrying times for the industry, and I hope we can find a way to get things back on track, because there’s so much talent out there and we aren’t hearing it.
Music saved me – and I hope that we can start to recognise how much good music can do for kids who are losing their way.
We are on tour from June (2025). The album drops on 6th June, and then my tour starts the following week. I’m actually away when the album comes out. I’ve decided to sit by the seaside. I’m going to beautiful Devon, which is kind of like my fatherland – that’s where my dad’s family are from. I’m going to sit by the sea at midnight when the album comes out, and sit there with my eyes closed and a glass of expensive red wine. I’m going to treat myself.
Monica: Every album must be like a baby—for a musician, it’s like a new baby coming out.
Rob Wheeler: I mean, it is in every single way. It’s incredibly beautiful and you’re proud, but also it’s incredibly stressful. Actually, I don’t have children. However, I’m going with the cultural zeitgeist on the ups and downs of being a parent. I can’t have children. It was actually the catalyst for me deciding to pursue the incredibly difficult career of being a recording artist. I had a medical diagnosis around 2014 or 2015 – something like that.
I’d had a few illnesses, and they all sort of conspired to leave me in a situation where I wouldn’t be able, unfortunately, to have children of my own. So, as you can imagine, that was quite a significant point in my life, simply because of, you know, what you thought… I think you plan out a life for yourself.
I mean, I grew up without my dad, so I’d always sort of figured I would be a great dad someday. And of course, it was all of a sudden like: okay, so now it’s going to be a different story. That was relatively difficult to come to terms with. I sort of hit the self-destruct button for a while, yeah.
But you know, luckily I’ve got an amazing family, and I’ve got a wonderful partner – now my wife – and we’re very happy. And of course, yes, my passion became music and saving little doggies instead. Not everybody has children.
Monica: Society creates all this pressure, but it’s an old-school kind of thinking. If you wanted that, of course it makes it a different thing. But otherwise, every time you bring out a new album, it’s like having a baby. For me, it’s the same with books. You give a piece of yourself into that, and it’s as big as having a child, to be honest.
So, you should be proud of all the music. I’ve listened to your music and it’s fantastic. It’s actually extraordinary music, and I’m surprised it’s not bigger than it is – for me, anyway.
Rob Wheeler: That’s so kind of you to say – well, it’s true. With things like this, we are making a big push with this record. But I think you’re absolutely right.
The thing about children is it’s a bit of a legacy, isn’t it? I suppose maybe that’s not the same for everybody. My mum – I don’t think I was planned, let’s put it that way. She was quite young when she had me.
But she tells me all the time how proud she is of me, and I can see that. I’m very much, in her eyes, one of her greatest achievements.
So, for me, you’re absolutely right. As much as my mum has left herself in me, I put as much of myself into my music. Because it is the legacy I’ll leave behind. My mum’s legacy is me. My legacy, hopefully, will be my music. I’m proud of that, because I think – if nothing else – my music has touched a lot of people. I’m quite proud of that.
My fans do tell me a lot how much the songs have resonated with them, and that’s quite an incredible thing to be told.
Monica: I’ve listened to it, and even just after listening once, the songs resonated straight away. That’s quite an achievement, I’d say.
I particularly liked your response about intelligent rebellion. Do you think that quiet resistance— what you talk about— can sometimes be more powerful than shouting in music? And is there a song that really captures that for you?
Rob Wheeler: Yeah, I think going back to Bob Dylan’s early records, he is a really good personification of that quiet rebellion—because it’s one man with a guitar and a harmonica.
His lyrics are quite stream-of-consciousness, so he’s being very honest.
And if you think about music in the early ’60s, there were a lot of things happening in the world. Music was really representative of trying to have fun and a good time – and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.
I like all kinds of music: I love songs, I love dance songs.
But I think what Dylan did – and he was following on from other pioneers like Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger – is that he brought it to a critical mass: talking in music about the problems in the world and how we can be better. Better for each other, better for ourselves.
I think Dylan is a great personification of that.
Now, we live in such a different and frightened world. People who are frightened become more divisive because they become more scared, more defensive. We see it happening particularly in politics.
I don’t particularly want to be a political songwriter, but I think if you’re going to approach these kinds of subjects in music, surely the way to do it is intelligently. Review it from all sides, see it from all sides.
Because people who tend to be the ones we deride usually come from a situation where they themselves have been through something.
There’s a reason that someone is a racist: they have been brought up to believe that’s right. And we know that it’s not right—it’s such a basic, stupid attitude to have, in my opinion.
And I think that’s the general consensus. We can all unanimously agree that racism is stupid.
But if you’re brought up in a household where you’re only taught racism, then that…
Monica: If we had to build—and I say ‘we’ meaning together—a Rock Rebel Survival Kit, say five songs that give you hope, fire, healing… What would be on it?
Rob Wheeler: Songs that give you hope… Okay, well, I’m going to pick Blackbird.
Because the message in Blackbird—there’s a line in it: Take these broken wings and learn to fly.
That’s a real message of hope. I certainly associate it with hope because it gave me a lot of hope during a time in my life when I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted to do. I’ve heard Paul McCartney talk about the message behind that song and how it was inspired by the race riots, which I think is a really interesting take.
But just for me personally, I see the blackbird as anybody who’s sort of afraid to take off, really. For me, it is a song of hope.
Blackbird has become a bit of a cliché guitar piece that players use to show off their prowess. One thing is to be able to play it, but it’s a totally different thing to sit down and actually write it—and to have that vision.
Paul McCartney wrote it in India when they were going through their meditation retreats after losing their manager, who committed suicide. There was a lot of turmoil in the group, and they were starting to fracture and go off and be a bit more individual after being The Beatles for so long. And Paul comes back with this Blackbird song, which is absolutely stunning—and it made me want to play guitar.
And so I did. I got a guitar and thought, “One day, I’m going to be able to play Blackbird.” A few years later, I could play it—and I play it regularly in my sets now. That was a major moment for me because it was the thing that made me want to learn to play guitar and perform. That changed my life forever, because from that moment, music has always been my income.
Monica: Let’s cover fire. Fire as in the sort of fist-pumping, give-me-energy type of thing—whatever you think, however you interpret it. It doesn’t have a definition per se.
Rob Wheeler I would go for Rascal Flatts’ Life Is a Highway.
That’s a great, brilliant song. Just purely from a songwriter’s perspective, looking at it as a song, I think it’s brilliantly put together.
I love that it’s one of those songs that—if it’s a sunny day, like it is today—I can get the windows down, turn it up in the car, and it just makes me feel positive. That’s brilliant, because that’s what the best music does when its intention is just to fill you with the joy of being alive.
I’m alive today, I’m healthy, I’m happy, I’ve got a smile on my face, the sun is shining. Life is a highway? It definitely is—and it’s great. It just sums up the adventure of it all, and the need to just go for it.
It even inspired one of my songs, Leave Tomorrow, the title track for my album. Life Is a Highway was an inspiration for that—the idea of going out, going for it, stepping outside your door and getting on that life highway. So yeah, that definitely gets the fire going for me. It really motivates me. That song is fantastic.
Monica: And what about healing?
Rob Wheeler: Healing… Shelter from the Storm by Bob Dylan. I love the message in that song, and I think it’s so visual—the way he describes the lyrics. He’s quite descriptive, to the point where I can actually visualise it in my head—the rain, stumbling across this place of refuge where he can hide from the storm.
But of course, the bigger message is: “Look, I’m going through a terrible time right now. Can you take me in?”
There’s a lyric in it—let me just find it, so I get it right. I don’t want to miss a word:
Because in another lifetime, one of toil and blood,
When blackness was a virtue, the road was full of mud,
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form.
‘Come in,’ she said, ‘I’ll give you shelter from the storm.’
A creature void of form is such a vivid image to me. It’s perfectly descriptive of when you’re beaten down by life’s problems and you almost don’t recognise yourself any more—you’re just so… a creature void of form. What a brilliant lyric. Dylan is a poet.
Monica: He’s the most amazing poet with a guitar— but he’s a poet.
Rob Wheeler: I think he’s a poet more than anything.
Monica: Yes, more than anything. Another poet—Bob Dylan’s best friend—Patti Smith. She’s my hero. I love Patti Smith, everything about her. I saw her in concert, and she just sings poems, you know? Some of them political, but always with human beings at the forefront—never putting politics before people.
I love that about both of them—Bob Dylan and Patti Smith together.
Rob Wheeler: Patti Smith’s Horses is universally recognised as one of the greatest albums ever made, isn’t it?
Monica: I totally agree with that. They’re truly poets of this century—real ones.
Monica: Do you think the most radical thing a musician can do today is be honest—in a world of filters, branding, and marketing? Is raw emotion the new rebellion, in a way?
Rob Wheeler: Strangely, you preceded that by saying I don’t give the cliché answers, but unfortunately the honest answer to that is: yes.
It’s as simple as that.
Because honesty—particularly in country music—is everything. Country music is built on the principles of authenticity, and country music fans can sniff out a fake.
They won’t listen if they don’t feel there’s a genuine connection.
It’s honesty and authenticity—the real meaning of it is not cliché, because there’s not much of it in the world these days. So it’s quite a unique thing.
If you can connect to your own music… Because people can be honest—but what they choose to be honest about is another thing altogether.
Yeah, yeah, I agree. Trying to beat somebody over the head… they’ve probably already been beaten over the head their entire life. So it’s about trying to somehow communicate and educate—and music can do that. And that’s the quiet rebellion, isn’t it?
That’s the intelligent rebellion. That is the way to try and make a difference. And it’s tricky, because who am I to speak to that? I come from a really, you know, very humble but happy background.
I can talk about what it’s like to not be able to have children.
I can talk about what it’s like to have an absent father.
And I can talk about what it’s like to be in a poor household.
But when you start talking about these bigger issues, you do sort of fall into the trap perhaps of being a little bit on your soapbox—or virtue signalling, and things like that.
But I think what I’m trying to say, ultimately, is that if you take Bob Dylan as an example, music can be used in an intelligent way to shake things up and to make us look at ourselves. And if you can do that—if you can hold a mirror up to somebody—that is perhaps the best way to get them to understand some of the fundamental issues that we have in society.
Monica:
You said, “Music saved me.” But can you recall one specific moment, or a song, where that felt literally true — something that pulled you back from the edge?
Rob Wheeler:
During the two incidences: one is a broader one, which is the passion I have for music and the decision to focus all of my energy into writing songs for myself — to sing them and perform them myself. That decision got me through the hardest part of my life, which was finding out I wouldn’t be able to have children. The reason that was hard was because I wanted so much to have children.
I felt like having a child myself and being a father would replace the sort of feeling of abandonment I’d had from my father. Having my music gave me the focus and the passion; it gave me the desire to just get on with my day, knowing that I had this new focus. And it brought me around. There were a lot of other things then that led on from that — because it let me open up more, it allowed me to come to terms with it. I got therapy, I got help.
I spoke to my family more honestly about it. But music was the catalyst. I remember being a teenager and, at the time, my life wasn’t really going anywhere. I was too clever for my own good. At school, I was academic, but I hated academia. I didn’t like school at all. I didn’t like the teachers. I got bullied. I just hated the whole experience.
But I think it turned me into a smart aleck and I became — I got a chip on my shoulder, and I became a bit of an obnoxious teenager. My life was just drifting along. I remember being at a friend’s house and listening to an album by the Beatles, and hearing the song Blackbird — oh yes. And at the time I was into lots of different music, but I was at that age where my music was what was on the radio or what was in my mum’s record collection.
In the 90s, music was consumed in a very different way. It was on the radio or what you owned in physical media, so — like my mum’s records and CDs — and that’s all we listened to. My family wasn’t really into popular music; they liked rock music, so I was listening to Bon Jovi and stuff like that. I have a nostalgia for it, but when I heard the Beatles for the first time, it literally blew my mind. And it sounds like such a cliché thing to say, but it blew me away. I can remember being very emotionally taken with this song, Blackbird, and it remains my favourite song of all time. And I think the reason that I love it so much—
I remember I was working on a building site and I was carrying bricks up and down a ladder. There was this one day when it was particularly bad weather and it was really heavily raining. I was so frightened because I kept thinking I was going to slip on the ladder and fall — and luckily I didn’t.
But as soon as I got enough money, I’d saved up this money to buy a PA system so I could go out and gig. Yeah, and I did it. I got it, and I bought— and. But I think, who knows? I could have stayed on that building site for the rest of my life.
And there’s nothing wrong with that. You know, I’ve got a lot of friends who work in those kinds of industries and they’re brilliant, hard-working, lovely people, and they earn good money. But when I think of all the joy that music has given me — because I did take that route — I’m very grateful for it. So yeah, hopefully one day I’ll be able to meet Paul McCartney and I can buy him a drink and thank him for that.
Monica:
I’ve learned how to play the guitar thanks to the Beatles too. I was in my room and then I loved this music and — I don’t know. I was in Italy, an Italian girl, and I learned English as well using the Beatles’ songs. So for me, the Beatles also have something so magical. There’s so much in these songs.
They’re very simple songs, apparently — you know, on the surface they’re very easy listening and all of that — but they hold the most profound meanings. And they were really quiet rebels as well. Like John Lennon. He tried, but he was such a good soul, you know? And he was quiet in a way, very gentle. And he tried to rebel, but, you know, there were always obstacles because the world wasn’t ready for that at the time.
The world is not ready — no, the world wasn’t ready for that at the time. At the time, no — the world is not.
I love John Lennon. You know, everything I, you know, become — or everything I, you know— I’m a free spirit, and it’s thanks to that music. Because when I was 10, and I was listening to the John Lennon Collection and the Beatles, I was always thinking: I want to be like a John Lennon in my own way.
I want to be a free spirit. I want to shout the good messages and peace and love and all of that. I’ve actually pursued everything I believe in. I have always been very coherent in my life — being a very active pacifist, thanks to John Lennon.
Rob Wheeler:
The message is always, “It’s just love and kindness.” It’s so simple, and it never gets old.
Monica:
No, it never does. I wish more people understood that. That’s why my book about rock rebels is actually trying to convey all of that. The world needs a book about these people who have been inspired — through music — to share really good messages, like Bob Dylan, and John Lennon, and Jimi Hendrix.
Rob Wheeler
I look forward to reading it.
Monica:
Sometimes I ask myself: is there a new generation of rebels out there? Like, where do you think they’re hiding? For example, are they on TikTok? In pubs? In bedrooms with broken strings and borrowed humps? Where are these new rebels—or, you know, a new generation of rebels? What do you think about this?
Rob Wheeler:
It’s a tricky one, really. I think one of the issues is that, because of media saturation and the quest for fame, it’s diluted a lot of the messages that music used to have. The problem with that is, there are people out there, but because there’s such a saturation in the market, how do you root them out? Sam Fender is probably one of the few people who has actually become genuinely successful from a marketing background and is talking about real issues.
I really can’t think of many more. Part of the problem is that people are so divisive now. People are afraid to say what they truly think.
Monica:
I know— you’re right. There’s the cancelling culture out there.
Rob Wheeler:
You’re so under the microscope, and you’re critiqued for everything—every single comment on any post on any social media platform gets reviewed. So it’s not just your music that’s being reviewed, but your entire moral compass.
Monica:
It’s a dictatorship of democracy, in a way. It sounds like we’re in a democracy, but there’s all this cancelling—so it’s a bit like a dictatorship of the masses.
Rob Wheeler:
Sometimes it feels like it’s not very democratic anymore, in some ways. There’s this mass hysteria—everybody is arguing with everybody. There’s so much noise. And this is why I am such a true believer in the quiet rebellion. Sometimes, just to have peace of mind—just to sit and say nothing— is actually quite powerful.
To retain that power and not be drawn into the arguments—this massive, ongoing, constant argument about who’s right, who’s wrong — and to go back to your question about where the rebels are: well, the rebels are in there. But the problem is, because of the divisive nature of society today and the way music is consumed— because it’s on so many broad platforms, and anybody and everybody can release their music and message—I think the idea of the rebel, certainly in the connotation in which you mean it, has almost disappeared.
I think it doesn’t even exist any more. Because anybody who comes up rebelling— well, everyone’s rebelling against something. The lines aren’t as clear as they used to be. And because of that, you’re either this sort of right-wing, sort of, you know, “gammon,” if you like, or you’re a left-wing snowflake. Nobody sits in the grey area any more.
And there’s so much space in between those two ideas. There are all these shades in the spectrum where people could be sitting, having really intelligent conversations and understanding each other a little bit more. Nobody wants to do that—it’s just noise.
So how do you become a rebel in that kind of chaos? You can’t, really. Because the idea of a rebel is to stand up against something—to rebel against the status quo. But there isn’t a status quo. There’s just a mess.
So I think, really, how you even define a rebel in 2025 possibly has to change. And I think, sadly, the idea—as in the type of rebel I gravitate toward—is someone like Bob Dylan. But if Bob Dylan was out today, he’d just be, you know, derided.
They’d say: “You can’t sing, you can’t play, you’re a woke snowflake, we’re not interested in you, mate,” and he’d just be on the pile with all the other undiscovered artists.
Monica: If John Lennon walked into one of your gigs, what do you think he’d say? And what would you ask him before he left?
Rob Wheeler:
That’s something I always ask myself. I mean, obviously, being a Beatles fan—I think John would dig it. He’d like the music, because I think John just did enjoy music.
You know, he loved it. You know, his passion when he started the band… he’d come into my gig and he’d appreciate what he heard.
What would I ask him? I don’t know. I’d have so many questions, I’d probably end up not saying anything. I’d probably just give him a hug and go. Whichever question I picked, I’d regret it and think I should have asked another one.
Monica:
I know what you mean. I would do the same. I would probably hug him and thank him for the music.
Rob Wheeler:
To understand the world—even John was a very complicated man. He wasn’t—on the outside—he was lovely and sweet and he had this gentleness to him, and he brought that to his music. But he was a wife-beater.
He hit his wife—and that’s appalling. And that’s a side of John that gets forgotten, because we sort of idolise him for his music. And he is brilliant, and he was a genius, and he was lovely. But again, today he would be cancelled for that—and rightfully so, because that’s disgraceful. He had an aggressive streak.
But that’s because of his history. And if you actually look at his life—his parents really abandoned him. He reconnected with his mum, and she was killed in a hit-and-run by an off-duty police officer, which led to his probable disdain towards police and authority figures. That’s where John’s rebel streak comes from. He was kicking out against authority because of those reasons.
But then he kicked in the direction of his partner—and that’s appalling. And it’s not acceptable. But it does make for an interesting conversation, because now we’ve come to our senses, and we realise those kinds of things are appalling and shouldn’t be acceptable.
Yet there are millions and millions of murals and posters of John Lennon—and we idolise him.
It’s strange. But now we can have an intelligent conversation about it. John is a complicated human being who happens to be one of the Beatles. He’s not a Beatle who was a complicated human being.
And I would rather have an intelligent discussion—as I’m sure would Cynthia, if she were still around today. She never defended John’s actions but also never hauled him over the coals for it. She understood his problems and his issues — she did.
I find it interesting that millions of students all over the world have a wife-beater in posters on their walls.
Cynthia was incredible, and she gave him the opportunity to get help—which he did, and he recognised that.
Monica:
Maybe he confronted his demons. And maybe, because she forgave him—and she always loved him in a way—even in the last interview she gave, she never spoke badly about John, even if he wasn’t very kind and he cheated. But she always recognised the good things he did rather than the bad ones.
Maybe if we put the good and bad on a scale, the good things he did outweighed the bad. I want to believe that’s the case—because I love, overall, what he stands for.
Rob Wheeler:
But we’ve had an intelligent discussion. A male and a female have just had an intelligent discussion about John Lennon and about his dark past, and the dichotomy of his violence against his message of peace and love.
If more people could do that—if we could have more intelligent discussions in the world — Wouldn’t the world be better?
Monica
I believe that we still can make a difference. In fact, even just publicising this kind of conversation would help people see that, actually, you can talk about things like this without getting political, without indulging in cancel culture, and without becoming too extremist. There are so many shades to a person’s personality, and grey areas in between.
We can’t really condemn one person for one action—especially if the person has actually redeemed himself and become a better person after recognising the issues. If Cynthia Power forgave him and helped him get through it, we should too.
Rob Wheeler
If you put John Lennon in today’s world — if you just picked up John Lennon and what he did in the 1960s, when he was going through all these problems — and dropped him into 2025, he and the Beatles would be cancelled.
Monica
Being authentic is a bit rebellious in its own right…
Rob Wheeler
It’s such a saturated market now, with thousands and thousands of songs being released every day. How do you get people to listen to your music? And then, you start going down that sort of wormhole. You want to make your music enjoyable, you want people to have a good time listening to it—but then underneath that, it’s like the Hemingway iceberg.
How Hemingway wrote his prose was that you can read it on one level, but beneath it there’s so much more. And it’s up to you—how you connect to the piece. Allowing that room and that space for the audience or the listener to find their own connection to the song is really important. But what must underpin it all is authenticity from you, and I’ve always maintained that in every single song I’ve ever sung.
Even the ones that are a little bit more poppy are still authentic, because I would never want to sing a song that I didn’t truly resonate with or connect to. Because if I didn’t connect with it, it would feel fake to me. I might as well be in a boy band singing someone else’s songs.
And then what’s interesting is that it becomes about experience—your human experience. I think this is why artists, when they become more successful, perhaps start to struggle: because their lives become easier, nicer, and you lose that hunger you had at the start of your career. That’s perhaps why a lot of artists’ early albums are better—because they still had the hunger. Literally. They didn’t have any food in the cupboards.
They were going through everyday events, traumas, heartbreaks—everything life throws at you. And then, when something really monumental happens—like what happened to me—that becomes a catalyst. A moment where you go, “Right. I need to pour this emotion and these feelings into something artistic.”
For me, that’s writing songs. I think honesty is great, but how honest you are, and the level of what you’re willing to share, really shows how authentic you are as an artist. Because a true artist—and I mean this in the politest way — exposes themselves.
Monica
It’s the most in-depth answer and explanation I’ve ever had. So thank you for this, because it’s really the real thing. We’re not scratching the surface; we’re going really deep.
Talking about country artists — you say they’re the most authentic and intuitive. There’s a long history of country artists quietly challenging the status quo, right? Loretta Lynn singing about birth control, or Kacey Musgraves questioning religion. Do you see Northern country as having the same potential?
Rob Wheeler
Absolutely, because country music as a musical landscape is built on traditions of instrumentation and structure. What you sing about in your lyrics is up to you.
One of the sad things about UK country music—and I don’t mean this as any disrespect to my peers—is that a lot of artists tend to draw on lyrical clichés of country music. Even I’ve been guilty of that.
But there’s so much scope to write about what you see in your everyday life. That doesn’t mean it has to be about ranches or cowboy boots or tailgate parties. The Americana lyrical structure is wonderful when sung by someone who lives that life. But in my life, I’m surrounded by countryside.
The closest city to me is Manchester, where there’s a serious problem with homelessness. Then you’ve got Liverpool just up the road, and Stoke City just down the road—places with real social issues.
That’s the world I’m seeing. And then within that, it’s also what’s happening to me. In my personal life, for instance, I lost my grandma just last year. Because of the situation in my family, I didn’t have my father around. My mum had to go to work—no choice. That meant we spent a lot of time with my gran, who was a surrogate mum to me.
She raised me just as much as my mum did. My mum was amazing—and as an adult, I can now see what she sacrificed. My amazing mum probably gave up a lot of the early joys of her life to go to work and put food in the cupboards for me and my brother.
But luckily, we had my gran to look after us. I lost her last year—so I’ve now lost both my mum and my gran.
And dealing with that? The only way I know how is to put it into music. Yes, you’re right—you need an outlet to release the grief and negativity.
That’s it. I don’t need to be from Nashville to understand grief and put that into a country song. That’s why I did so well in Nashville. That’s why I had such a successful integration into the Nashville songwriting and music scene—because I didn’t go out there trying to be one of them. I was just myself.
And they embraced that. They couldn’t do enough for me. I was working with everybody because they loved it.
They even made suggestions like, “How would you say that in an English country song?” It was brilliant—it challenged them. It was such a beautiful, creative experience, and it happened because I went out there as myself.
Monica
Yes, of course—because you are authentic, Rob.
Rob Wheeler
Authentic—that’s what it is. It’s one thing to say you’re authentic; it’s another to stand in your own spot and say, “This is who I am, and this is what I do.”
Just because I come from a place in the Northwest where it pours with rain most of the year, just because I grew up in a council house, it doesn’t mean I can’t write a Nashville song.
It doesn’t mean I can’t be a country artist. I can be anything I want to be—as long as I’m still me. That’s why I call it Northern Country, because that’s what it is. It’s country music to the last fiddle, banjo, and guitar.
Monica
You’ve managed to convey your own pain and suffering into beautiful music—and I have to say, I’ve become your biggest fan. I’ve just listened to your YouTube channel and your beautiful songs.
You deserve to be in the mainstream — because your music is excellent, with powerful messages. You bring positivity to young people.
I’m grateful for artists like you, who can really make a difference in our lives. I always say that, if I had to visualise heaven — life after life — for me, it would be a concert, with people singing together in a crowd, dancing and being happy together.
That is heaven for me. So when I go to gigs, that’s why I’m a happy person — because I live in heaven. If people were always that happy, there would be no wars. Music unites people across generations. There are no divides — everyone is united in music.
People should take that experience of music and then go home and apply it to their lives.
Rob Wheeler
I couldn’t agree more.
Monica
Politicians know nothing about it. They live in their own little world. If they went to more concerts like we do, they’d practise better politics.
Rob Wheeler
A better political life — because the disparity between the people running the country and those living in the country is enormous.
You’re absolutely right. If they had a bit more understanding of these things, they’d better appreciate the joys of music, ballet, opera, art, and theatre — all the wonderful things these offer.
If they truly understood, they wouldn’t be cutting funding the way they do.
Monica
It’s appalling, isn’t it? And if you think about it – during COVID, during the pandemic – we were all at home, and we were saved by musicians.
We were saved by books, music, movies – everything creative. So how can you cut funds to the arts when we had a perfect example of how music and the arts saved us from becoming hermits, or depressed, or worse?
That was the only thing I missed during that time—concerts, theatres, all of it. Honestly, I could have lived normally— except for the music.
Live music, that feeling—that’s heaven. Seeing all these people happy.
Rob Wheeler
There’s one song by Maren Morris called My Church — it’s about exactly what you just described. I think you’ll love it.
If more people learned to play an instrument, it would be brilliant for mental health. Music is therapy — simple as that.
Are you going to come along to my album launch?
It’s at the Green Note in Camden on June 11th (2025).
