Wolf Alice Review – The indie chameleon rocks the glam rock band | Wolf Alice

‘IIf I want to wear my sparkly lingerie, I will! Ellie Roussel laughs into the microphone as she struts through The Sofa, a stylish ’70s series about making guilt-free decisions and watching “reruns on TV” without judgment. Tonight, there’s no sign of couch-induced slumber, as the slinky singer writhes around the stage in a skin-tight black dress with red hearts strategically zigzag across her torso. She’s long ago ditched her shaggy blonde locks for something closer to PJ Harvey on a glam rocker’s bender.

It’s a fun and exciting renovation, and it bodes well for the public. Wolf Alice have unsentimentally worn and shed many skins – it’s come to be expected from a band with over 15 years of performing, which started out as a north London folk duo featuring Roswell and guitarist Geoff Oddie before evolving into a full four-piece band. There’s a grunge snarl on her debut, My Love Is Cool; ’90s alternative fuzz in Visions of Life and Mercury Prize-winning Blue Weekend. But their current arena tour shows that The Clearing’s full cabaret stage may be their most complete incarnation yet.

References to the 1970s – the lurid, glam rock, the speedy sounds of Hawkwind and Sabbath on Roswell’s Gibson SG – are everywhere. Other moments lean on the piano for stage presence. The set begins with a crooning song, Thorns, tassels of tinsel draped between each long-haired member, before screaming into Bloom Baby Bloom, a bouncy, tom-heavy number. Drummer Joel Amy shines, singing White Horses and smashing hi-hats in a slight krautrock-influenced rush. Roswell’s harmonies cling close. “Let the branches wrap their arms around me,” the band chants, playing acoustic guitars like a pagan seance played by the Incredible String Band.

Despite the qualitative leaps, which can be difficult to follow at times, the most consistent and impressive thing about Wolf Alice is Roswell’s vocal performance. Each iteration became stronger. The band’s set never once shows the songwriter faltering, she is on par with the gods of magic. “This phone makes me cry,” Roswell says, as fans gather at the front and light up the space with iPhone torches. Even in the crowded arena, it’s puzzling that wider fame, or early success, hasn’t followed. But with a new major label, that could change.