Since I started these Top 10s, Wolf Alice was always going to be on the list. I just wanted the dust to settle on the band's fourth release, 'The Clearing'. Another exceptional effort, in a generational run by Britain's best band.
So here goes.
The third and final single from 'The Clearing' sees the band embrace a folk-driven sound, and drummer Joel Amey takes lead vocals for the first time since 2015's 'Swallowtail'. A heartfelt reflection of heritage, identity and family. With crisp rustic instrumentation, and one of the album's biggest choruses. It's a song that has been on heavy rotation since its release. A confident and celebratory affair, when the questioning quiets down and he chooses to be content with his family and who he is.
It's a sound that, although not explored before, the band nails with ease. Everything they seem to touch works. You can hear the influences, but this is firmly a Wolf Alice song; 'White Horses' acts as the album's metaphor; the band are content with their place in the world now. They know their strengths, and they've grown together; they've overcome their twenties, faced struggles with identity, place, family, friendships and the fact that, as Damon Albran said in 1993, modern life is rubbish.
Wolf Alice shared their twenties with us, though we listened to them deal with these trials and tribulations, and 'The Clearing' is the result of coming out the other side. With 'White Horses' being the band settling into self-assurance and, more importantly, self-acceptance.
There's a confidence within this new era of Wolf Alice, finally content with their position in the world, and ready to take over. 2025 has the potential to be the biggest year for the band yet. Having ended their record deal with Dirty Hit and signed with major label RCA. An arena tour is pencilled in. It's a great time to be a fan of the band.
The opening song from the band's Mercury Prize winning second album, 'Visions of a Life', is an ethereal beginning that marked the band's second era. With nods to 90s shoegaze within the guitars and dream-like vocals, it marked a change for the North London indie upstarts.
In an interview with the NME, Ellie Rowsell said: “If we had an inkling of an idea, even if it seemed a bit silly, we’d try it out and see what happened." The band went in as an open book, and the results across the whole record are staggering.
'Heavenward' is one of the most underrated songs from that record. It's one that I don't here fans talking about as much as some of the other songs from that unbelievable album, but in my opinion, it has everything that makes Wolf Alice great. Joel Amey and Theo Ellis as one of the best rhythm sections of the modern era, Joff Odie's snarling guitars and Ellie Rowsell turning a muted verse into a stadium anthem by the first chorus. It's spectacular.
From the opening track of the band's second record to the closing track. The band's second album set about improving on an already supreme foundation. Wolf Alice had shown us what they could do with their 2015 debut 'My Love is Cool'. How they end their second album, though, is spectacular.
A near eight-minute epic that starts as almost Sabbath like sludge, before becoming a space rock epic, before going back again. It has it all, guitar solos, pulsating drums a massive chorus. 'Gian Peach' was just the starter; 'Visions of a Life' showed the world what Wolf Alice were capable of.
Darker, more foreboding, it's menacing. “My journey ends when my heart stops beating,” Ellie repeats at its finale, among towering riffs that sound like they could fell buildings, and it’s the end of an album that twists and turns through a world of anxiety and paranoia. It's the summary of everything that's come before, running through every style, every lyrical theme, and it's spectacular.
'Visions of a Life' is a phenomenal achievement. It has captured on record the thrill, angst, sadness and uncertainty of being in your twenties and not really knowing what’s going to happen or should happen. All of it is never anything less than intoxicating, heartfelt and effortless.
It's safe to say Wolf Alice didn't suffer from second album syndrome.
The second single from 'Blue Weekend' and the better older sibling to 'Yuk Foo', 'Smile' sees the band turn the amps up to eleven with devastating effect. Rowsell takes the criticism that she and the band received for 'Yuk Foo'. Particularly, the line Rowsell screamed: “I wanna fuck all of the people I meet.” Over crunching riffs, the present-day version of her shoots down the world’s attempts to put her in a box and tell her how she should be. “And now you all think I’m unhinged/Wind her up and this honeybee stings,” she sneers at one point. “Did you think I was a puppet on strings?/Wind her up and this honeybee sings.”
This was quite the jump from the piano-led emotional epic of the first single, 'The Last Man on the Earth'. Much more striking and direct, with one of Wolf Alice's most profound statements to date. “I am what I am and I’m good at it,” shouts Ellie Rowsell, “and you don’t like me, well that isn’t fucking relevant.”
'Blue Weekend' is not the album that made Wolf Alice the biggest and most important band in Britain. They'd become that already following the release of its predecessor. 2017's Mercury Prize winning 'Visions of a Life', 'Blue Weekend' proved that after reaching the top of the pile, they were here to stay.
The song that saw the band return after four years away. Wolf Alice's most bold and bombastic effort to date. It sees the band explore new ideas and sounds without any holding back.
We’ve heard Wolf Alice go full-pelt into rock bangers before, but ‘Bloom Baby Bloom’ takes a different tack compared to the sludgy ‘Visions Of A Life’ or the brittle, breakneck punk of ‘Play The Greatest Hits’. Here, they pull from the ’70s palette of russet and harvest gold-hued sounds, warm and rich, even when Ellie Rowsell is giving us her raspiest yell over the top. It’s splashy and full of little flourishes: Joff Oddie’s twiddling guitar solo, a brief drum splatter from Joel Amey, and Theo Ellis’ bassline that pierces through the pre-chorus.
It's a band operating at the peak of their powers; nothing is wasted, everything fits into place. Rowsell has never sounded more incredible. Her voice has some of its most delicate moments, and then some of its most raspy and dark the next.
This was the perfect song for the band to return with; it speaks of coming into your own and emerging from whatever life throws at you, maybe not unscathed but definitely sure of who you are. “But I bloom, baby bloom / Watch me and you’ll see just what I’m worth,” Rowsell declares, serenely self-assured. “Yes, I bloom, baby bloom / Every flower needs to neighbour with the dirt.” After three albums of building and expanding their world, and experiencing the ups and downs of the music industry, it feels like the band is ready to stake their claim as one of their generation’s most important acts.
Despite being less than 6 months old, the song has already entered the conversation as being one of the band's best pieces of work.
Wolf Alice have excelled with every release so far, I think it's important to take things into context, though. 'Blue Weekend' is a masterpiece, but it was made by a band that had won the Mercury Prize for their last album, 'The Clearing' was made by arguably Britain's best and most important guitar band. 'My Love is Cool' was made by four indie upstarts from North London, and what they delivered is nothing short of exceptional.
With 'Your Loves Whore' the band sounds like they've been around for decades; the way they blend styles is effortless.
You have grunge drums, Slowdive guitars, and a primaeval scream delivered with almost a folk-like restraint. It's breathtaking. The chorus feels built for arenas, ten years before they actually got there.
The song takes on so many different styles and genres, but it does not feel like it's a mess or even an imitation of what's come before. This sounds like Wolf Alice, and it hits, and it hits you hard.
We should have known in 2015 that they'd be the flag bearers for indie music in the 2010s and 2020's they spearheaded the way for a whole bunch of British guitar bands.
'Delicious Things' sets the scene for the band's most cinematic record to date. A tale about finding yourself a long way from home, its shuffling basslines and seesawing vocal patterns - half-spoken rhymes that teeter between nervousness and wide-eyed wonder - have no discernible modern reference point; if it’s historically easy for a guitar/bass/drums quartet to fall into obvious lanes, across the record Wolf Alice defiantly create their own. This is clever, clever songwriting that never takes the obvious path.
Lyrically, Rowsell finds herself in a romanticised version of LA. Her awestruck delivery (“I don’t care, I’m in the Hollywood Hills/I’m no longer pulling pints, I’m no longer cashing tills”) is as intoxicating as the widescreen soundscape beneath her that sends you soaring above the city, Downtown LA poking up on the horizon on one side, the Hollywood sign nestled into the hills on the other.
Towards the end of her adventures, Rowsell is drawn back to normality. “Hey, is mum there?” she asks through crackling production. “It’s just me, I felt like calling.” What goes up must come down, after all, but Wolf Alice themselves are showing no signs of descending any time soon.
This isn't just one of the best Wolf Alice songs; it's one of the best songs of the decade, a masterpiece on an album that has eleven of them.
The most atmospheric moment on the band's debut album, and the song that would set them up for its follow-up. 'Silk' sits alongside the snarling grunge of 'Lisbon' and the indie earworm 'Freazy', much more muted, synth-driven, with Ellie's voice being the predominant instrument here. She begins in a hushed tone, switching between her inner thoughts and those of judgmental onlookers, as though the song is a dialogue between doubt and defiance.
The track transcends from faint and ethereal beginnings, her voice poking through the electronic beat like light breaking into a dim room. Gradually, layers are added, textures swell, the atmosphere thickens, and the once-fragile vocal grows with a quiet determination. Then the drums enter, subtle at first before becoming insistent, propelling the track into something altogether different.
By the song's final stretch, 'Silk' transforms into something grand and cinematic. The percussion crashes with intensity, and Ellie's vocals soar above the mix, shifting from delicate whispers to a near-cosmic cry. It’s not just a song but a journey, building an otherworldly soundscape that feels vast, emotional, and incomparable.
Wolf Alice aren't just another indie guitar band; what they've done across all of their records is amazing. 'Silk' is probably the debut's defining moment.
The greatest indie love song ever? It's certainly one of them. A spoken word epic about the start of a romance, and the nerves that come with it. Cutting to the core of the excitement and uncertainty that comes with getting to know someone. The song's cinematic glory has meant it has already become a modern classic. Ellie said she wanted to write “one of those head-out-the-window driving tunes”, but it feels more like soaring light years above Earth with enough butterflies in your stomach to carry you all the way home.
From the opening moments, Don’t Delete the Kisses envelops the listener in a haze of dreamy synths and echoing guitars, setting the tone for an intimate journey through love and self-doubt. The production leans heavily into the ethereal and cinematic, eschewing the grungy intensity found elsewhere on 'Visions of a Life'. Instead, it embraces a hypnotic, shoegaze-influenced soundscape, reminiscent of bands like Slowdive and My Bloody Valentine.
At its core, Don’t Delete the Kisses is a song about overthinking, about the way we sabotage our own happiness by second-guessing what feels too good to be true.
As the song progresses, the protagonist moves through a cycle of emotions, from doubt to daydreaming to tentative hope. Rowsell’s spoken-word verses feel almost stream-of-consciousness, mirroring the spiralling thoughts that come with romantic uncertainty. Then, something shifts. The song begins to break free from hesitation, growing in confidence. In the final verse, Rowsell allows herself to believe in a happy ending.
It's the most accurate description of falling in love in the modern age. What the band manage to do, though, is make the autobiographical universal. There are vulnerabilities in what is said; these questions run through the song, a happy ending comes, but we have to fight for it, every part of the romance, and the protagonist's feelings are questioned and examined, but in the end, love conquers all.
I'll leave you with a review from the NME writer Rhian Daly: in short, incredible. Its verses are like a continuation of My Love Is Cool's 'The Wonderwhy', in that frontwoman Ellie Rowsell softly speaks her words instead of singing them," adding: "To call it cinematic is something of an understatement – this is super wide-screen, the sharpest technicolour, so HD you can almost see their guitar strings sparkling with each note and the air around the drums crunching with each beat. Musically, it's unlike anything Wolf Alice have done before. It's the very definition of ambitious, a shimmering, golden piece of atmospheric indie that will make you feel like you're drifting 40,000 feet above the clouds, looking down at Earth through a marshmallow patchwork."
I couldn't put it any better myself.
In simple terms, ‘Bros’ is a song about your mates, and a very good one at that. Beautifully raw and brimming with innocence, it feels like the kind of track that could only appear on a debut album. First released in 2013 before being reworked for Wolf Alice’s debut, it was one of the earliest glimpses fans had of the band’s potential.
In an interview with NME, lead singer Ellie Rowsell described the song as “a sentimental tune to us, it’s grown and changed with us over the past couple of years, taking on different shapes and forms until it evolved into being this definitive album version. It’s an ode to childhood imagination and friendship and all the charm that comes with that.”
That sentiment is at the heart of why ‘Bros’ remains one of Wolf Alice’s finest songs. Expressive and expansive, it captures everything a great pop song should: shimmering instrumentation, Rowsell’s soaring vocal that builds in intensity, and a dreamlike quality that wraps the whole thing in nostalgia. It closes like a memory fading, but leaves a lasting impression.
From the very first listen, ‘Bros’ feels special. After a hundred plays, it still sounds magical. Its universality is its strength, the innocence of youth, the comfort of friendship, and the joy of feeling understood.
“Shake your hair, have some fun
Forget our mothers and past lovers, forget everyone
Oh, I’m so lucky, you are my best friend
Oh, there’s no one, there’s no one who knows me like you do”
It’s brilliant songwriting, universal, anthemic, and deeply personal. And it’s worth remembering: this was still the early days of Wolf Alice. With ‘Bros’, they weren’t just introducing themselves; they were carrying the flag for a new generation of British guitar bands and giving teenagers everywhere a new favourite to believe in.
So that brings the list to an end.
Thank you for reading
Jack