Lights, Sweat, and Singalongs: TOM Grennan’s Arena Takeover

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TOM GRENNAN PERFORMING AT LEEDS FIRST DIRECT ARENA
PHOTOCREDIT: JOHN HAYHURST

Tom Grennan returned to Leeds, proving once again why he’s become one of Britain’s most compelling live performers. In a landscape crowded with chart-topping pop stars, Grennan has carved out something different. It’s not just his knack for writing songs that stick, or the way he folds honesty into his storytelling — it’s his ability to put on a show. And at the First Direct Arena, he did exactly that.

The night opened with Scottish singer-songwriter Rianne Downey, who set the tone with a charming, stripped-back performance. Her sound, blending 50s-inspired pop with touches of country, was refreshing if occasionally a little soft-edged for such a big stage. Still, her striking appearance, voice and easy rapport with the crowd gave the room an early lift, and once she gave herself the opportunity of venturing down Grennan’s extensive stage runway - newer confidence started shining through, and a ‘British Country Starlet’ was born. By the end she’d won many over.

Next up, Tom Walker stormed on with the energy and grit that some in the crowd were waiting for. Best known for his emotional ballad Leave a Light On, Walker surprised with a set that was punchy, quite upbeat and danceable at times, and delivered with real fire. Backed by a powerhouse band, his keys and drums added depth to his soaring choruses, while his voice — warm, raw, and commanding — left goosebumps lingering in the air along with everyone’s phone torch.

From Just You and I to Head Underwater, the crowd responded to him like a co-headliner, singing every word back and filling the arena with electricity. By the time he closed with a monumental Leave a Light On, Walker had made a statement: this wasn’t just a warm-up act, but an artist capable of owning an arena in his own right.

But when Grennan’s turn finally came, the room shifted up another gear. With confetti, pyro, and a stage designed for maximum movement, he burst into Full Attention and never looked back.

“This is one of my favourite venues,” he told us early on, before flashing a grin and adding, “Nothing beats a northern crowd, Leeds — that’s the truth.” The roar that followed made it clear the feeling was mutual.

He’s a pro now in working an audience - sensibly mixing older cuts like Found What I’ve Been Looking For and Royal Highness alongside the new, proving just how far he’s come since those early times - almost 8 years ago. The emphatic crowd response showed the balance — the diehards singing along to every lyric from the debut, while a younger wave of fans screamed loudest for the newer hits. It underlined Grennan’s growing reach: his music has found fresh audiences without losing the original ones.

Most acts of his stature tend to space out arena stops, but Grennan has momentum on his side. In the 14 months since his last visit here, he’s welcomed his first child, scored a third consecutive chart-topping album (with the brilliantly unwieldy title Everywhere I Went, Led Me to Where I Didn’t Want to Be), and turned his personal battles into the kind of anthems that demand to be sung at full tilt. The old Robbie Williams comparison doesn’t feel like a stretch anymore — he’s embraced the role of a full-fledged British pop heavyweight.

Visually, the stage was a throwback to classic revue shows: three tiers, wide walkways, and a runway that almost went to the back of the arena - plenty of space to prowl. Grennan made sure to use every inch of it, constantly on the move in a flowing black jacket and sunglasses, although the jacket didn’t last long before the gym body was revealed underneath.

His setlist covered plenty of ground, from the brass-laced stomp of Attention and Diamond to the neon-tinged Boys Don’t Cry and the arms-aloft balladry of Let’s Go Home Together. He climbed into the stands for the piano-led ballad, turning the cavernous venue into something more intimate for a few minutes. It left both him and many in the audience visibly moved.

He gave his backing singers and band plenty of spotlight — especially the horn section and gospel-style vocalists who lifted the big choruses into something euphoric.

By the end, as Little Bit of Love exploded across the arena, few people were still in their seats. Arms stretched high, confetti falling yet again, and 8,000 voices belting every word, the night felt like a communal celebration. People dancing and singing without a care reminded me of what live music does best: it pulls strangers together, even just for a night, and makes everything else fade away.