There are arena shows, and then there are arena shows. The kind where you walk in, glance at the stage, and laugh out loud because subtlety has left the building. At the AO Arena, Wolf Alice opted for the latter. Suspended above them, a massive illuminated star loomed like something borrowed from a celestial pantomime, and behind it, enough tinsel to re-decorate every grotto in the land. Except this wasn’t naff. It was knowing. It was classy and big, a Northern talent show backdrop scaled up to arena proportions and polished until it gleamed.
It felt mischievous from the start. “Thorns” opened proceedings with that slow-burn tension, guitars coiling before they strike. Live, the track felt sharper than on record, its barbed edges amplified by the theatrical set. The star glowed cold and white, the tinsel catching every flicker of light so that the whole stage shimmered as if it might levitate.
“Bloom Baby Bloom” and “White Horses” followed in quick succession, the band already in full command. Wolf Alice have always thrived on contrast, and tonight the dynamic swings were dialled in. “Formidable Cool” strutted rather than stomped, Ellie Rowsell all sharp angles and deadpan charisma, while “Just Two Girls” carried that undercurrent of wry observation that makes their songwriting feel both intimate and expansive.
Then came “How Can I Make It OK?” which, on Blue Weekend, glows with a kind of melancholic sheen, its chorus soaring over a bed of restrained instrumentation. Live, it felt bigger without losing its ache. Rowsell’s vocal cut clean through the arena, and the crowd answered her in kind, thousands of voices rising beneath that glittering canopy. It was communal without being mawkish.
“The Sofa” offered a breather, its self-aware lyricism landing gently in the vast space. On record, it plays like an internal monologue set to a slow waltz, a reflection on ambition and the quiet fear of not quite measuring up. Here, under that giant star, it felt almost ironic. A song about domestic doubt performed beneath something that looked like it had been pinched from a Christmas special. The juxtaposition worked beautifully.
Mid-set, “Bros” turned the place into a hug. That familiar guitar line, nostalgic without tipping into sentimentality, sent waves through the crowd. Phones rose, arms linked. If you’ve ever needed proof that Wolf Alice can turn personal memory into collective euphoria, this was it.
“You’re a Germ” and “Yuk Foo” injected the snarl back into proceedings, the latter still a two-minute exorcism of frustration. Rowsell spat the lines with precision, and the band locked in behind her. It was tight, punchy, no wasted motion. Even the tinsel seemed to vibrate.
There was a moment of pure Manchester mischief during “Play the Greatest Hits”, when Ellie slipped a cheeky line of Wonderwall into the final breakdown. A risky move in this city, but the crowd lapped it up, singing along with the kind of ironic sincerity only Manchester can muster.
“Silk” and “Giant Peach” stretched out gloriously, the latter closing the main set in a blaze of noise that felt almost old-school indie in its abandon. Theo Ellis’s bass rumbled through the floor, Joff Oddie’s guitar lines slicing through the shimmer. The star burned brighter, the tinsel practically incandescent.
The encore was a masterstroke. “The Last Man on Earth” hushed the arena, its piano-led grandeur perfectly suited to the theatrical staging. On record, it’s a meditation on ego and disillusionment, Rowsell questioning the myth of the misunderstood genius. Live, it felt vulnerable and brave, a quiet confession in a very loud room.
And then “Don’t Delete the Kisses”. That opening pulse, that rush of romantic overthinking turned anthem. The entire arena sang it back, not shouted but felt. Under that absurdly magnificent star, with tinsel cascading behind them like a glamorous social club fever dream, Wolf Alice made 20,000 people feel like they were in on the same secret.
Bookended by spectacle and sincerity, this was Wolf Alice leaning into the drama without losing the heart. It was big, bold, slightly tongue-in-cheek and completely in control, and it proved that Wolf Alice are not just ready for arenas, they were born to own them and Manchester was lucky to witness it.
Photo Gallery by Alex Cropper
Go Places Do Things 