Even the most patient and forgiving of Wolf Alice fans have had to learn how to love at a different rhythm than the fans of other artists. Waiting for a new record, without knowing if anything is coming at all, seems to have become a primary act of their devotion. “Is it over?” exclaimed one despairing Reddit user a few months back, exasperated by the British rock band’s radio silence throughout 2024. “No more music?”
On April 22, after a near four-year wait, an eon in an ever-changing industry, their qualms were put to rest. Breaking cover, all posts on the London four-piece’s Instagram page were swiftly archived, while its previously dormant TikTok account began to flicker into life. Soon enough, a carousel of striking, retro-leaning images — including bassist Theo Ellis wearing a leather jacket adorned with a gem-encrusted ‘Wolf Alice’ motif — was uploaded with a call-to-arms caption: “We’ve missed u.” Major festival slots at Glastonbury and Radio 1’s Big Weekend, meanwhile, were also confirmed for the summer.
Offering a glimpse of what may lie ahead, it’s a new look for the band, and a new way of marketing its music, heralding in the group’s next era with aplomb. Unlike most contemporary acts subject to mass idolatry, Wolf Alice’s online presence (which, historically, has been minimal) has never been part of the appeal. Dozens of accounts have instead become dedicated to posting whatever updates they can find, often rehashing photoshoots from their early career.
In a world of algorithm game-playing and lyrics bundled with gossipy subtext, the band’s songs — which deftly blend garage rock and shoegaze — function as talismans affirming the importance of standing tall by your convictions. The subtlety and class with which they choose to signal meaning to their audience is something that has long defined their music; in knowing relatively little about the band’s own inner lives, fans’ desire to get closer only grows stronger.
Young, terminally online pop fans feel drawn to the notion of artist folklore, having grown up watching the likes of Taylor Swift and Ariana Grande incorporate “Easter eggs” (hidden messages and references) into their videos. It’s an idea that extends to other genres that are popular in stan culture forums, where lost songs and “will-they-won’t-they” social media teasers are analyzed feverishly. In the case of Wolf Alice, the group has earned a committed Gen Z fanbase who gravitate toward them as much for the element of surprise as they do for the music.
The anticipation around the band’s next steps, therefore, couldn’t be greater. Wolf Alice’s last record, 2021’s Blue Weekend, ushered in a new commercial zenith, landing a nomination for the Mercury Prize (which the group won for 2017’s Visions of a Life), topping the Official U.K. Albums Chart and leading the band to its first-ever BRIT award the following year. The campaign steamrolled ahead across a further 12 months, during which they opened up for Harry Styles in stadiums across Europe and completed an extensive headline tour.
In 2025, each of the members are now approaching their mid 30s. No longer the wild-eyed 20somethings they emerged as with fiery 2013 EP Blush, they have spent the past decade quietly unlocking emotional discoveries in their songs, flowing with their shifting perspectives on ambition and desire. Across three studio LPs, it’s become clear that guitarist and lead songwriter Ellie Rowsell focuses on growing privately in order to bloom publicly; she can do huge indie hooks with the best of them (2015’s “Freazy” or the endlessly affecting “Don’t Delete the Kisses”), but has never sounded quite like any of her peers because of the strength of character at the center of her work.
Consistently ducking the expectations of indie’s upper echelons — the ones which the band vaulted into with 2015’s My Love Is Cool — has only further affirmed Wolf Alice’s influence and longevity. You can see the band’s gnarly, incisive showmanship in the likes of Wunderhorse or rising stars Keo, or hear the band’s incandescent take on indie throughout You Can’t Put a Price on Fun, the debut EP from Manchester-based artist Chloe Slater. “Seeing them live was the most joy I’ve ever felt,” the latter recently recalled of a formative Wolf Alice gig, which she credits with changing the course of her burgeoning career.
Intriguingly, the band’s period of downtime was interrupted last year with the announcement that it had left its longtime label home of Dirty Hit — home to The 1975 and Beabadoobee — to sign with Sony imprint Columbia. According to a report from The Independent, the move stemmed from the members wanting “to experience something different,” having previously been in the same deal for nearly a decade, and that Rob Stringer (CEO of Sony Music Group) “is a huge fan” of theirs.
Though Blue Weekend was rapturously received by critics, with The Observer describing it as “alchemically good,” the question of whether the band can level up to festival headliner status has long hung over reviews of its electrifying live performances. Groundbreaking things can happen if a band is given the time and space it needs to truly develop into greatness, and one can hope that with the support of a major label and a new team around Wolf Alice, the group’s music will be able to travel further than ever. It’s fascinating to think what they might do next.
