Hard-Fi formed in 2003 in Staines, Surrey. Frontman Richard Archer, guitarist Ross Phillips, bassist Kai Stephens and drummer Steve Kemp released their debut album, Stars of CCTV, in 2005. Featuring Cash Machine, Hard to Beat and Living for the Weekend, it reached No 1 in the UK, sold 1.2m copies worldwide and earned Brit awards and a Mercury prize nomination. The band released two further albums before going on hiatus in 2014. They reunited in 2022 and released a new EP in 2024.
This shoot was for an interview in the Big Issue. I still wear those clothes now, but back then a good jacket or pair of sunglasses was a suit of armour. With the right pair of shades, I could face the Terminator.
The more extrovert elements of being a frontman didn’t always come naturally, so at times I was playing a larger-than-life character. I wasn’t that confident performing – not to the extent I’d puke up backstage, but I’d get nervous and try too hard. I was also a bit gobbier and swearier back then. A lot of people thought I was off my face on coke, which I wasn’t. Adrenaline is powerful stuff.
I often had this outsider feeling – as if there was a party going on we weren’t invited to. We’d go out in Staines rather than Camden, but, even though we weren’t part of the “scene”, our shows kept selling out. By 2006, it felt like we were on a train that was getting faster and faster. For years, we’d tour and do promo, with no days off – all of which was exciting but exhausting. The whole time I thought: “We can’t stop, we can’t screw it up.” There was so much pressure that I didn’t get a chance to stop and soak it in.
After our third record, the label said: “We’re not going to make another album with you.” I wanted to keep the band going, but the energy wasn’t there any more. Ross had his first child, money was getting tight and I realised we should move on. In the years since, I’ve been writing and producing for other artists.
In 2020, I got in touch with the guys and suggested we do something. I was thinking, “Will people actually turn up?”, but we sold out the Kentish Town Forum in 10 minutes. And here we are!
I had never worn a flat cap in my life. It was not my thing, so I felt self-conscious. But this was 2005 – I felt self-conscious permanently. I was almost certainly thinking: “Right, a flat cap, is it? I’ll just stand here and try to look tough.”
Before Hard-Fi, I was on the dole. I’d go in and say: “We’ve got meetings at a record label, the band might actually happen.” They’d reply: “Sure. Have you thought about getting a job at HMV?” When we signed to Atlantic in December 2004, the dole office thought I was making it up. I was shocked, too – so much so that I wanted to hide my portion of the advance in a pillow case. That approach continued whenever the band had success. As soon as anything good happened, I couldn’t celebrate. I just felt fear.
Our debut album was recorded in a taxi office covered in cheap asbestos tiles that looked as if they’d been painted yellow, but it was nicotine. They’d turn to dust if you touched them, and there were rats living in the roof. It was grim, a really nasty place. All of which made the more glamorous parts of the band more surreal. James Blunt invited us to a party at his place once. I was introduced to Paris Hilton. She looked me up and down, twice, then turned and walked away.
Being in Hard-Fi is half family, half military operation. Rich is the colonel. I am the sergeant – I crack the whip. Ross is a private – “Yes, sir!” – and Kai is more likely to be awol. We are solid, but we can bicker about all sorts. I get wound up the easiest. I get the hump about anything.
After the group went on hiatus, I wanted to use my brain, so I ended up retraining as a nutritionist. Do I help the band eat healthily now? Not remotely.
Twenty years later, I am still the same guy. Although, these days I would have the confidence to say no to the flat cap.
Those Versace shades definitely helped me get into character.
When I joined the group, I realised I was probably not in the best place for what could be a really exciting opportunity. I wasn’t getting enough sleep or living my best life, so I had to sharpen up and straighten out. I had a lot of respect for Richard, I had come across Steve at university, and I got on with Ross straight away – we were both just lads from Staines.
Before Hard-Fi, I was doing pest control. We used my van for some of those early gigs, and, as I had tough guts, I wasn’t bothered by much. Once someone dropped something down a toilet and I grabbed it out with my hand. When the taxi office had an ant infestation, I said: “Why do you think they’re here? It’s not for the tunes. There’s sugar everywhere.”
When our first single made the Top 20, I couldn’t believe it was happening. Looking back, I don’t think I responded well. Artistically I stepped up to the plate, but personally I lost the plot. My impostor syndrome was huge, and I was dealing with it by becoming dependent on alcohol. There wasn’t much talk about addiction back then. To some extent, it was encouraged by the industry.
After we were dropped, we had a good break from each other for a fair few years. During that time, I went on a real journey – bad habits returning, and losing a loved one. But I also got the chance to become a good father.
I feel positive about life now, but mixed about what’s happening with the band. As much as it’s exciting to live a bit of 2005 again, because of the crazy curve I’ve been on, there’s apprehension there, too.
We were considered “urban” by the press, so most of our early shoots were done in car parks or bus shelters – anywhere that looked grimy. This one would have been a pleasant change. My outfit is standard Hard-Fi clobber – a black polo and army surplus. I felt comfortable in that – ready to go.
I was only 21 when Hard-Fi took off, and the last one to join. I was nervous, but they were an easy bunch of fellas. I’m the youngest of three siblings, I go with the flow, and I applied that same mentality to being in Hard-Fi. It’s almost impossible to wind me up. Only my kids can – they’ve got special skills.
In 2005, we were out every night and away from home for months on end. It was great, but I found doing red carpets stressful. Even after four pints, I look like I’m thinking: “Ahh. What the fuck.”
When the third album came around, I started having kids and I thought it was time to get a job. Music stopped for me for a few years – my guitars were put in a cupboard to keep them away from the kids. As we started up the group again, I realised I had forgotten how much I loved playing. But it is a different dynamic this time around. Back then I was just making music. I had zero responsibilities. I knew absolutely nothing at all.