DeWolff at The Garage, London

There are bands you enjoy, bands you admire — and then there are bands like DeWolff, who leave you standing in a packed room with your heart pounding and a ridiculous grin plastered across your face, wondering how music can feel this good.

At The Garage in Islington, the Dutch trio — brothers Pablo and Luka van de Poel, alongside lifelong friend and Hammond maestro Robin Piso — turned a Friday night into a full-blown revival. For the uninitiated, DeWolff hail from the southern town of Geleen, Netherlands, where, as teenagers, they fell headfirst into the swirling worlds of classic southern rock, soul, and psychedelia. Fifteen years and a blistering discography later, they’re not just paying homage — they’re breathing new life into the genre with an energy that feels raw, joyful, and utterly irresistible.

Opening with Night Train, the revival was on and they wasted no time throwing down the gauntlet. The groove was thick, the riffs were loose and wild, and from the first note, it was clear: DeWolff were here to tear the roof off the place.

Heart Stopping Kinda Show followed — an apt title if ever there was one. Pablo's guitar licks slithered and soared, his voice rough-edged yet soulful, while Luka pounded the drums with a determination that never once left his face. Robin, perched behind his mighty Hammond organ, was the secret weapon, weaving that unmistakable warmth and grit through every song, making it feel like the very walls were vibrating with history.

By the time they hit Natural Woman and the dreamy Will o' the Wisp, the entire room was under their spell. DeWolff have that rare ability to shift gears without losing momentum — one moment riding a groove so swampy you can almost smell the Mississippi air, the next floating into a cosmic jam that feels like it could spiral off into the stars.

Out on the Town and Snowbird showcased their incredible knack for songwriting: songs steeped in tradition but never weighed down by it. They play with the exuberance of a band still in love with their instruments — and crucially, still in love with the idea that rock 'n' roll can save your soul, if only for a night.

Highlights came thick and fast. R U My Saviour? was a stomping, gospel-tinged monster, and Ophelia shimmered with a psychedelic glow that wouldn’t have sounded out of place at a Fillmore East show in 1971. Queen of Space & Time was pure DeWolff — funky, gritty, utterly infectious — while Nothing’s Changing closed the main set with a bittersweet punch, proving that behind all the fire, there’s real heart in their music.

Of course, the crowd demanded more, and DeWolff were only too happy to oblige. They returned for a barnstorming Rosita, sending the room into one final frenzy before bowing out to rapturous applause.

There’s something special about seeing a band like DeWolff at this stage — still hungry, still wide-eyed, still playing every gig like it might be their last. They might have come from a sleepy Dutch town, but on nights like this, they feel like they could take over the world.

If you’re looking for a band that can remind you why you fell in love with rock 'n' roll in the first place, look no further. DeWolff aren’t just carrying the torch — they’re setting the whole damn thing ablaze.