The Feeling That Lingers: Wolf Alice Live in Leeds

For 90 minutes, Wolf Alice made the First Direct Arena feel smaller than it is, filling the room with the quiet anticipation that’s followed them since the release of The Clearing last August. Right from when the silhouette of the band appeared against the backdrop of a bedazzling tinsel curtain, the arena was instantly transformed into a retro dreamscape, an atmosphere foretelling of the London-based band’s powerhouse performance to follow. 

Ellie Rowsell holds the room without trying to, moving through the set with a calm magnetism that’s impossible to look away from. Her assured, effortlessly cool persona is as sparkly as her grungy eyeshadow under the suspended disco ball, captured on the side screens like an intimate concert film. Each song powerfully showcased impressive vocals and a musical talent that sets Wolf Alice apart through their channelling of unbridled angst and rage. You can’t help feeling a quiet sense of longing throughout the set, wanting the momentum to continue while also feeling emotional at the ease of their star quality and the pride that comes with seeing who they’ve become over the last 15 years. 

The set kicked off with Thorns, a melodic ballad that feels like an opening credits sequence, slowly pulling the room into focus. As Ellie starts to sing, the atmosphere shifts almost instantly. Some people leap to their feet, dancing without hesitation, while others stay seated, so completely absorbed that it feels better to just sit and stare, fingers laced with the hand of someone you love. Down in standing, faces beam up at a stage that suddenly feels impossibly close, everyone caught in the same shared rush as Bloom, Baby, Bloom spills out across the crowd. 

That momentum barely dips as Formidable Cool crashes in, channelling the punkish edge of the band’s early records. Its bluesy riff builds and builds before tipping into a roaring frenzy, the set moving with a confidence that makes their genre-shifting feel effortless. There’s barely a moment to breathe, each song blurring into the next as years of memories resurface, the soundtrack to my teenage bedroom suddenly loud and communal. 

After an immense chorus singalong of How Can I Make It Ok, guided by bassist Theo Ellis, there’s a palpable sense of excitement to hear the newer songs take shape live. The Sofa is far from the relaxed, stationary image its title suggests. Played on stage, it’s beautifully done; a tender, frustrated plea for permission not to have everything figured out yet. Rowsell gazes wistfully into the camera as it circles the mesmerising pink revolve, the screen making it feel like you’re watching a concert and a music video at the same time, caught between intimacy and spectacle. 

That sense of tenderness carries into Bros, which lands with a wave of warmth halfway through the set. It was one of those moments that instantly pulls everyone together, a shared exhale filled with warmth and familiarity. Watching it unfold, I felt overwhelmingly lucky to be there with my best friend, jumping beside me under the strobe lights, reminded of how deeply this song - and this band - is tied to ideas of friendship and growing up. That sense of closeness only deepens as the band gathers at the front of the star-shaped stage for a stripped-back rendition of Safe from Heartbreak (If You Never Fall in Love), their harmonies landing gently but powerfully, sending a quiet ripple of goosebumps through the crowd. 

The softness doesn’t last long. Police sirens cut through the air and the mood snaps, grief and tenderness giving way to something feral. Blue and red lights wash over the crowd as Rowsell reappears in front of a curtain of silver tendrils, mic swapped for a megaphone, launching headfirst into Yuk Foo and the breathless rush of Play the Greatest Hits. The release is immediate. In the pit, people fold into each other, losing themselves in aggressive shrills and fuzzy guitars, experiencing a cathartic release of emotion before the band leaves briefly before the encore. 

When they return, the room exhales. Phone torches rise for Last Man on Earth, turning the arena into a quiet constellation, a moment of stillness and introspection shared between nearly 13,000 people. Then comes Don’t Delete the Kisses, glowing under the same disco ball lighting I’ve heard they’ve carried with them since 2017. It feels full circle watching the band stand beneath it now, looking out at a crowd that has grown with them. Everyone sings every word, loudly and without self-consciousness, holding onto that familiar ache of wanting and being wanted. It’s euphoric and grounding all at once, a reminder of how long this song, and this band, have lived alongside us. 

When it finally ended, no one seemed ready to leave. The post-concert buzz followed us out into the cold, people drifting towards the exits with tired legs, tear-stained cheeks, and soft smiles. Wolf Alice didn’t just play the room, they shared it with us. Walking away, I felt lucky to have been there, reminded why the wait was worth it and why their music continues to create a space for every messy, contradictory feeling we carry with us.

Wolf Alice played at the First Direct Arena, Leeds, on the 5th December 2025.

Words by Sophia Fry, she/her

Photography credit to Sophia Fry