As Ellie Rowsell takes centre stage, megaphone in hand, my view is once again blocked by a man scurrying to the bar – a confused mind who thinks beer is more important than listening to one of the most alluring front-women of the 21st Century. I’m not ashamed to admit that hearing “Yuk Foo” live (complete with police sirens, a megaphone and of course the unbridled angst of Rowsell) was a life changing experience. Phenomenal as always, Rowsell makes 1.5 hours fly by in what felt like seconds. You know a gig is going well when it feels like you’ve time travelled when you check your phone.
As I arrive at the AO Arena in Manchester, I’m in a foul mood. I’m 3 hours late. Nothing like a train cancellation to get you excited for a gig. But I have full faith that Wolf Alice will sort me out. Fully prepared to have missed the first few songs, I eventually find my seat in the stalls to be pleasantly surprised with an empty stage. Things are looking up. I’ve barely got my jacket off when the lights go down, and I can feel the tension in the room spike. Out come Wolf Alice, each in their own separate areas of the star-shaped stage. Rowsell is in the middle, wearing a bodysuit adorned with red hearts and a glittery eye-look that almost puts the disco ball above her to shame.
Wolf Alice kick off their set with “Thorns,” the first track on their latest album: The Clearing. “Thorns” is the perfect start to their show, a balanced middle-ground between their emotional, piano driven tracks and the pure female-rage that emanates from their early albums. Rowsell spins a spell over the audience, and as I look around it seems as though the whole crowd is swaying in sync to the music.
After barrelling through a medley of new tracks from The Clearing and fan favourites, Wolf Alice tuck one of their most loved songs into the middle of the set. In my humble opinion, the only way to experience “Bros” live is with your best friend. Lucky for me, I brought mine with me. Dancing as well as one can whilst seated, the lyrics wash over me and in a quite common instance, I’m holding back tears. I can feel the love in the room as hundreds of young women and their best friends mirror each-other, unconditional love filling the AO Arena. Did I experience world peace in Manchester on a Friday night, if only for a couple of minutes?
As I recover from the emotional bomb that was “Bros,” I can’t help but appreciate the structure of the setlist. Each track builds up to the next, and I’m left itching for more. I notice the heavier tracks are being played in a chunk, and as the momentum rolls from one song to the next, it’s very hard not to enter a maniacal fan-girl frenzy.
Not even leaving a moment to catch a breath, Rowsell launches straight into “Play The Greatest Hits” from “Yuk Foo.” I am internally battling the urge to stand up and scream, because this IS the greatest hit. Much to the delight of the Mancunian crowd, as the track comes to an end Rowsell replaces the lyric “play the greatest hits” with “play Wonderwall.” Can she get any better?
Following the final tracks, the band leave the stage and the crowd is hungry for more. After a few half-hearted whoops and claps from a very self-assured audience, Wolf Alice are back for the encore.
Rowsell begins singing “Last Man On Earth,” an emotionally fuelled track about the arrogance of humans and the need to force meaning onto art. The audience are spellbound by the sheer control Rowsell has over her voice, and before I know it, phone torches flicker across the arena. The room is filled with stars, and I am left to soak in the ambience as my phone is on the brink of death
Bringing the night to a close is the iconic “Don’t Delete The Kisses,” universally loved across the audience. Not a single person is silent as everyone questions: What if it’s not meant to be? Often the final song of a gig causes a unique union across the venue, as it does during “Don’t Delete The Kisses,” and yet I’m always taken aback by the sense of community that seems to infiltrate even the most stubborn of minds
As I leave the venue, weaving my way through tight-knit groups of girls in scarves and coloured tights, I can’t help but think that everyone knows that I missed the opening acts. I feel blasphemous, like I’ve gone against everything I stand for as a journalist and more importantly, as a music lover. Sunflower Bean, I’m sure you were fantastic, but unfortunately I wasn’t there to witness it.
Over the course of 90 minutes, Wolf Alice manages to make you feel every emotion under the sun, all whilst dancing. Or attempting to dance in my case. I wouldn’t want it any other way. A force to be reckoned with, Wolf Alice deserve every ounce of praise coming their way.
