Electrifying guitarist Richard Hawley heralds from Britpop

There's an undeniable pleasure in being able to watch a band capable of selling out stadiums while turning to your mate and saying: "Yeah, but they were better when I saw them at the Bull And Gate, 20 years ago."

There are numerous reasons for that. For a start, the observer can score credibility points, having known a performer throughout their career. Spotting someone who goes on to achieve great success carries significant kudos.

However, far more importantly, is being part able to observe the creative development of a particular artist.

There's something enormously gratifying about seeing a spiky haired, angry young twenty something morph into a genius player.

Fans of Paul Weller, for instance, who were lucky enough to see his days in The Jam, have watched him change over time, embracing soul, jazz, rock'n'roll, roots, dance and more besides.

Who'd have thought the man who wrote Town Called Malice would have been sufficiently esoteric to write the mellifluously jazzy You're The Best Thing from his Style Council years, the sensitive balladry of You Do Something to Me, or, more recently, the leftfield dance of his solo career.

I've been a music fan throughout my life and have enjoyed watching the flowering of numerous performers. It was fun to watch The Stone Roses before the music press picked up on them, playing dodgy clubs in Walsall, to which they rocked up drunk and late.

A girlfriend at the time was so unimpressed that she fell asleep while watching them.

Later, I watched their rise, saw them in Denmark on their Second Coming tour, before briefly becoming mates with John Squire. Having watched them at Walsall's Junction 10, it was barely conceivable that they'd headline V 20 years later.

The performer whose career I've most enjoyed watching, however, is Richard Hawley. Back in the day, I worked in London for a music magazine.

One of our jobs was finding new talent and promoting it to our readers, so when the Longpigs first emerged I was keen to tell people all about them.

They made a big noise, which set them apart from their Britpop peers and we eulogised their talent. I spent plenty of time with them, both in London and on tour, writing stories and interviews about them.

Their singer was an astoundingly egotistical chap, as many band leaders are, and the person to whom I gravitated most was their quiet, understated guitarist, Richard Hawley. He seemed to be the artistic hub of the band, the one who made them tick.

Later, of course, he joined Pulp, before embarking on his solo career.

In recent years, I've enjoyed watching Hawley more than any other solo performer and been fortunate enough to interview him upon the release of his more recent works, like the mesmerising Truelove's Gutter or the electrifying Standing At The Sky's Edge.

Hawley has been out on tour in recent weeks, his West Midlands gig was a phenomenal headline at the HMV Institute.

As I stood at the back, mentally singing each tune, I marvelled at the creative journey of one of Britain's greatest guitarists-cum-singer/songwriters. Hawley is a national treasure, a spellbinding performer who continues to enthral, excite and beguile all these years on.