There can’t be too many bands who can trace their origins to a classic novel such as ‘Anne of Green Gables’, but Idlewild did just that, taking their name from the quiet meeting place mentioned in Lucy Maud Montgomery’s much-loved tale.
Literary inspiration is rarely a bad place to start, and Idlewild have certainly made something of that original spark. From forming in Edinburgh in 1995 to playing their first gig to around 30 friends at the Subway Club, the band have come a long way. Ten albums later, the meeting place is Kelvingrove Bandstand — and tonight, there is absolutely nothing quiet about it.
In fact, the only thing remotely resembling a meeting point from ‘Anne of Green Gables’ is the location itself. This is the polar opposite of quiet.
Speaking of polar opposites, Glasgow is also behaving rather unusually tonight. It is, quite frankly, bloody roasting!
The sun shines through the leafy branches surrounding the West End venue as early arrivals settle into the all-seated amphitheatre, awaiting support act Sorren MacLean and his band.
At precisely 8pm, the Mull-based musician and his merry band walk on to a surprisingly muted reception from the decent-sized crowd. Perhaps everyone is simply distracted by the novelty of enjoying a liquid refreshment outdoors, in Glasgow, in the sunshine. Stranger things have happened.
MacLean sets about the task of redirecting attention from beer to music, and with considerable gusto. His short country-folk set is, in truth, very good. He is personable, relaxed and engaging between songs, while the musicians around him provide an accomplished backdrop.
The audience, however, takes its time warming up.
The response is limited rather than hostile, which makes the initial atmosphere slightly baffling. Still, the band keep chipping away, and as more people arrive, the balance between stage and audience gradually shifts. By the time the eighth and final song arrives, the equilibrium has been restored. Huge applause and cheers finally greet the band — proof, perhaps, that if at first you don’t succeed, keep playing until the crowd catches up.
The fading light and growing crowd have been recurring features of Glasgow’s 2026 Summer Nights Festival. As the sun disappears, almost every gig gains an extra layer of atmosphere that money simply cannot buy — particularly in a city more accustomed to rain than extended spells of sunshine. Suzanne Vega might disagree, of course, having endured torrential rain and a half-full, half-empty venue during her own appearance.
Tonight, though, the weather gods are firmly onside.
As 9pm approaches, the anticipation around Kelvingrove Bandstand becomes almost tangible. The sold-out crowd is ready, and the atmosphere has developed a distinct electrical charge.
Then Idlewild arrive.
The response is enormous. Roddy Woomble and his bandmates barely have time to settle before the collective roar from the audience erupts across the bandstand and, quite possibly, halfway across Glasgow’s West End. If the crowd has been storing up energy all evening, Idlewild are the lightning conductor.
‘You Held the World in Your Arms’ opens proceedings, immediately posing the question: can they possibly maintain this level of energy for the rest of the night?
The answer arrives quickly.
Song 3, ’Little Discourage’ follows, and any lingering doubts disappear. Even Suzanne Vega levels of rain would struggle to dampen the spirits now.
At this point, a confession seems appropriate.
Idlewild are a band who have somehow passed me by during my musical adventures as musician, writer and photographer. Their particular corner of the musical landscape has never quite coincided with my usual listening habits. Tonight, however, that changes rather dramatically.
There are few things better than watching people experience their musical heroes live, and the chemistry between this band and their audience is impossible to ignore. The proof of the pudding, as they say, is in the eating — and tonight I am very much enjoying the pudding.
Quite often, this job stops feeling like a job and becomes an absolute joy. Tonight is one of those occasions.
The atmosphere is infectious. Band and audience become one entity, feeding off each other throughout the performance. Every song is new to me, yet such is the enthusiasm around the amphitheatre that I find myself attempting to sing along to songs I have never heard before! I suspect my contribution is considerably less impressive than that of the people around me, but nobody appears to care.
On stage, anyone not seated is rarely stationary. There is constant movement as members of the band twirl, jump and cover every available inch of the stage. As darkness descends, the lighting becomes an increasingly important part of the spectacle, while the crisp sound from the PA reaches every corner of the amphitheatre with impressive clarity.
After the seventeenth song, ‘A Modern Way of Letting Go’, the band finally take a moment to catch their collective breath.
The crowd, naturally, has other ideas.
The calls for more are loud, persistent and increasingly difficult to ignore. The house lights remain conspicuously absent, so everyone knows what is coming.
And there is loads more coming.
Four more songs, in fact.
At this point, public transport becomes a distant concern. Some might miss their bus home. Others might miss the last Underground train. The pub might be closing at 11pm. None of it matters.
Very few people leave.
There is an Idlewild fix available, and nobody is prepared to give it up early. The fans have waited for this, and they intend to savour every last drop. Whatever tomorrow brings, tonight belongs entirely to Idlewild.
Eventually, even this party has to end.
The crowd reluctantly begins making its way towards its respective safe spaces — the pub, the car, home, or wherever the rest of the night might take them. What matters is that they leave with something to talk about.
The band, meanwhile, must surely be buzzing. They have not merely performed a show; they have helped create something collectively with a heaving body people.
And that is the real magic of live music.
By the time Kelvingrove Bandstand empties, the venue is already preparing for its next transformation, with another gig less than 24 hours away.
The hard work never really stops in this business.
But tonight, for Idlewild, it looked remarkably like fun.
Review & Photographs by John Brown Photography
