Idlewild 
Wolverhampton Wulfrun Hall
Sunday 12th October 2025

With a critically acclaimed new album behind them, the Edinburgh legends bring their jagged, uplifting anthems to Wolverhampton. When Sam Lambeth argues, he sees shapes.

At the Wulfrun Hall, it’s a serene Sunday evening. In the bar, two middle-aged men swap running routes on Strava. Inside the hall itself, a seated punter passes the time by stressing over the day’s Wordle. Below in the standing area, a sea of flannel shirts and balding pates bemoan Wolves’ Premiership standing and lament another week of work. The only thing missing is the theme tune from Heartbeat as part of the pre-show music.

This placid atmosphere is not lost on Idlewild singer Roddy Woomble. He makes several references to it being Sunday throughout the band’s gig. At one point, he commends the balcony for putting their feet up on the last day of the week. At others, he thanks people for taking time away from the kids…and, presumably, Antiques Roadshow. When he’s not saying it with words, he’s doing it with actions – during instrumental chunks of Idlewild’s songs, he stands at the side of the stage with his hands in his pockets, looking on appreciatively like a dad at his son’s Sunday league football game.

However, there’s nothing tame about Idlewild’s music. They waste no time cutting through this inertia, blasting out the menacing fuzz of Roseability. Furtive guitarist Rod Jones is almost acrobatic in his stage movements, throwing himself around, standing on speakers, and almost bumping into the more passive Woomble like a commuter trying to catch the morning tube.

When it comes to earworm melodies, Idlewild’s self-titled new album is an embarrassment of riches. It’s a shame that Woomble inadvertently enters self-saboteur mode by telling the audience when a new song is about to start, sending swarms of the crowd hurriedly to the bar. It’s their loss, of course. Like I Had Before swirls around on muscular guitars, I Wish I Wrote It Down is sweeping and earnest, while lead single Stay Out Of Place is a juggernaut of stomping distortion and Colin Newton’s pounding drums. Meanwhile, the jagged riffs running through Make It Happen easily settle in amongst gnarly old numbers like Little Discourage.

At one point, a fan even holds up the vinyl of the album like some sort of war trophy. “Ah, so that’s why it was in the charts,” notes Woomble, wryly. Its well-received critical and commercial response also seems to have given the band a bit of renewed purpose. “We feel fresh”, Woomble smiles at one point, and there’s definitely a revitalised energy going through the old-school post-grunge shards of When I Argue I See Shapes and Let Me Sleep (Next to the Mirror).

As calm and self-effacing Woomble is as a person – maybe it’s those long days hiking in the Hebrides that does it – he and the rest of Idlewild deserve many plaudits for their influence on newer acts, particularly those from Scotland. For example, you can instantly hear where Biffy Clyro got their brand of gut-punching, anthemic choruses from on the blustery Love Steals Us From Loneliness. It’s even more evident in stand-in guitarist Murray Macleod, who usually plys his trade in rather fine Idlewild heir apparents The Xcerts. Tonight, the floppy-fringed guitarist grins ear to ear on the thunderous Husker Duisms of Everyone Says You’re So Fragile and the rousing Actually It’s Darkness.

For all the ceaseless distortion that defines a lot of their back catalogue, there’s also room for richer, more widescreen moments. The sterling melodies of El Capitan could only be more R.E.M. if Woomble shaved his head, painted his face blue and started talking about freeing Tibet. Live In A Hiding Place’s tender, tremolo-led arpeggios and soaring harmonies doff a cap to Crowded House. American English’s disillusionment with the other side of the pond looks to the beautiful bombast of post-2000 U2 and gets the crowd singing along with unbridled joy.

Ending on the blistering emo of A Film for the Future, this is Idlewild at their most engaged, refreshed and purposeful. In other words, the opposite emotions one should feel on a Sunday evening.

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Idlewild can be found on their website and on Facebook. 

All words by Sam Lambeth. Sam is a journalist and musician. More of his work for Louder Than War is available on his archive. You can find his music on Spotify.

All photos by Paul Reynolds. He can be found on Instagram.