LIVE REVIEW + PHOTOS: Pale Waves – [UN.TITLED] Studio, Manchester – 11/09/2026

It has been a while since Pale Waves have been around, hasn’t it? Despite Smitten being their best album, it didn’t make a ton of waves outside of the diehard fanbase, and that’s led to a bit of a quieter period for Pale Waves. They seem to have recognised that, too, given what they’ve set up for a comeback. Here’s Kiss Me In Manchester, a prelude to their European tour in the form of a mini-festival in the car park of a photography studio. It’s an interesting hook, certainly, and the stacked lineup they’ve assembled for it—almost entirely North-Western and non-male—makes it feel like a legitimate event.

What stands out most inside, though, is how surprisingly small-scale it all is. Being sequestered in a car park will do that, no doubt, but the ‘festival’ vibe cultivated makes it leap out all the more. There’s merch, a bar and a single pizza van, the fundamentals of a big, outdoor event reduced to the core essentials. And given that it’s not exactly bustling from the off, it reads more like a conscious gathering being catered for than some elaborate money-spinner. It’s unequivocally cool to see something like this put on in the first place, especially when Pale Waves are a band who could reasonably be seen as ‘above’ this.

Granted, it’s not without the hitches of first time ‘do like this, all of which compound right at the beginning. It’s just unfortunate it has to afflict Holly Nicholson, the local opener chosen to be here who gets buffeted by a running-late schedule and two sound outages. When she gets here footing, it’s a likable little set of indie-pop-rock. It’s very beholden to its influences, especially in subject matter, but Nicholson seems happy to be here, and that matters the most by far.

As for Boyish, their struggles are significantly more baked-in. This duo will be support for Pale Waves for the duration of this run, and you only begin to understand why most of the way through, thanks the whirling indie-rock of Jumbos and the ‘80s-style sizzle of Prom. Around those…well, it’s rather mixed, to say the least. The big, gnarly riff to yawn this into life is cool, as is the whole conceit of a vocals / guitar duo held up by programmed percussion. On the other hand, though, momentum proves a real struggle to accrue; at one point, Claire Altendahl peels out some guitar ripples while India Shore leans in, as if to see what’s going on, and it brings everything to a screeching halt. Boyish aren’t unlikable, but there’s a patchwork quality to them that’s hard to look past, and even harder to reconcile with.

Fortunately, Nxdia blows in to save the day, and do they ever! For one, being a Manchester-based artist, the increased pull is much greater. There’s energy and excitability, and a real sense of colour and fun radiating from every rickety indie-rock song played. Nxdia themselves are a lot more personable, too, responsible for a good portion of noteworthy soundbites this evening (“If my nipple comes out, that’s rock ‘n’ roll, baby”). There’s an easygoing feel in tandem with Nxdia’s character that allows this to click exceptionally. The strutting, shouting Boy Clothes and the undeniable earworm She Likes A Boy are just a couple of pieces of that. The highlights don’t stop coming, either; the wide, pop-punk-ish chords of More are right near the end, and still fizz and pop with the best of ‘em. Just a real gem of a set.

…which inevitably isn’t to last. By now, there seems to be a concerted effort to shunt runtimes back on track, though HotWax’s issues run deeper than a song or two being lopped off of their set. For what’s already a rather cut-and-dry rock affair, they often sound drained of the power that they need. Tallulah Sim-Savage’s guitar begins by trickling out with the occasional intended snarl; a bit later on Strange To Be Here, Lola Sam’s is practically inaudible. At least the rockstar posturing is good throughout, presumably relied on to shore up some goodwill here. Even when they do get on firmer footing, though, it’s still decidedly mid-range, and less raucous than it ought to be. A couple of jammier, more experimental cuts to wrap up on gives HotWax something to be remembered by, even if they could’ve had a lot more.

Witch Fever, then, prove much better, even if this isn’t the crowd for them. They’re an odd choice for this bill as it is—heavier; angrier; darker; prone to spined basslines and barely-held-together aggression. They’re also the most outspoken act here, where previous celebrations of queer joy are replaced for callouts of fascism and violence. When the calls for a pit don’t seem to generate many results, it’s not a shock. But between the funereal atmosphere and no-holds-barred punk spirit at their core, Witch Fever really hit a high note. They’re certainly fitting to have on as nighttime encroaches, where Amy Walpole’s howling vocals and the thundering guitars and bass of Alisha Yarwood and Alex Thompson respectively hit. Throw on even more roiling textures and a truly beastly tone to wrap up on, and Witch Fever’s spot here is more than earned.

Not quite as much as Crawlers’, though, from whom the title of Second Most Beloved Band of the Night would be hard to steal. They feel as though they occupy a similar cultural space to the headliners, with appeal to a younger, more individual audience for whom rock music errs on the lighter side. This is their first show this year, and while they absolutely hold onto all of that, there’s clearly been some growth in the interim. They feel bigger and bolder, almost to the point of glam-rock when you throw on Holly Minto’s wild gesticulations. There’s an added electricity now, to where Birthday already has the vim of a fan favourite, despite this being its live debut. With some great bass work from Liv May as standard (her, Minto, and guitarist Amy Woodall stand like giants at the front of the stage), Crawlers reemergence as a well-rounded rock outfit feels like a great next step. Come Over (Again) closes, as if a final reassertion were needed.

Yet, for the crowd here tonight, you get the impression that it doesn’t get much bigger or more showstopping that Pale Waves. A local success story is a given, but a band that’s been so vocally welcoming and celebratory of their own and others’ queerness is not nothing, especially for an audience that significantly sits among that demographic. Thus, when Kiss Me Again kick things off—both the namesake of this event and the best cut from Smitten—its huge pop waves set the mood and then some. Not only does it shine brilliantly (it’s worth noting that the sound fidelity is really solid for a bespoke stage in a car park), but it’s indicative of how loose and playful Pale Waves are tonight. They’re far chattier than usual, with more quipping and riffing between bassist Charlie Wood and drummer Ciára Doran than ever. Deliberately so, it seems, as a means of cultivating a light, intimate homecoming setting.

The set itself reflects that, in pretty appreciable ways. With the new songs that get played, no doubt they’ll have a chance to pick up some legs on the tour to come, but the hometown crowd getting the first taste in this specific environment just feels right. They really work, too; there’s an ‘80s feel beginning to form under the gauzy layers of Kisses Of Tangerine and the dashing, windswept drums of They Don’t Want You. Both are stamped plainly with ‘NEW ERA’, but are already seamless among this tried-and-true alt-pop catalogue. Television Romance and Perfume shimmer and refract; elsewhere, the bites of angst on Change and Fall To Pieces really push on forth. Even Jealousy, the sole remnant of their pop-punk era, lands with a distinctly fan-favourite feel.

Across the board, there’s a feeling of intimacy that Pale Waves wear so well, and it makes this a lot of fun. Heather Baron-Gracie is more restrained in her addresses to the crowd, something which colours the singalong of Change or the more ramshackle cover of The Cranberries’ Zombie. Neither are underwhelming, crucially; it’s all very communal and low-stakes, probably as intended. That goes even further when Eighteen gets derailed twice due to technical issues, before eventually being scrapped. For a band of Pale Waves’ size, an almost flippant adaptability like this isn’t common, but it is fun. Doran outright announces at one point that they’re approaching curfew, and need to stop joking around and keep playing; that’s the level of looseness we’re at.

Overall, it’s not some astounding return, but viewed as the prelude to that? Yeah, absolutely; it’s really good stuff. Even getting timed out of a full encore and being left with only There’s A Honey is projected with warmth and camaraderie, a warm-up for what’s to come without that sounding so pejorative. With a great demeanour and songs sounding as fresh and clean as ever, there’s really nothing to worry about with Pale Waves going forward. They’re back on fine form, no doubt with plenty of exciting stuff to come. And with events like this now among their repertoire, it’s a good time to be a fan.

Words by Luke Nuttall

Photos by Maryleen (Instagram / Website)