Inside you, there are two wolves. And inside Patrick Wolf is The Beast.
Of all the places in the world that UK-based multi-instrumentalist Patrick Wolf could play a show on Halloween, he has chosen to spend it at Portland’s Mission Theater. The evening is set to kick off with performances by Abhora and Hollow Eve of the Emmy-nominated horror-themed reality competition show, Dragula, and 1,000 versions of Wolf himself—in the shape of a “Night of 1,000 Patrick Wolfs” competition, where fans are encouraged to dress up like their favorite version of the baroque chamber-pop star.
If you haven’t heard of Patrick Wolf, that could be because he took a step out of the spotlight for over a decade. After putting out a whopping six albums between 2003 and 2012, Wolf’s music career went dormant until the release of Crying the Neck in 2025. In the 13 years between, Wolf spent some time facing his demons, battling addiction, entering recovery, and dissecting what it meant to grow up gay in ’80s and ’90s England.
Now, Wolf is back creating and making the rounds on another tour. And while Tour of the Beast is on its second leg, Wolf’s face is making another debut: in the film festival circuit. Started some years before Tour of the Beast even came to fruition, the award winning director, Christian Cargill, approached Wolf intending to capture a piece of the artist’s life. But what started as a simple snapshot turned into a full fledged documentary, appropriately named Wolf, capturing his life as narrated by the renowned Tilda Swinton. Unrelated to his latest album, the film serves as a sweet reminder of how far Wolf has come in his creative and personal journey.
I had the pleasure of chatting with Wolf ahead of his Portland gig to see what life’s like being back on the road.
MERCURY: Where are you right now?
PATRICK WOLF: I’m writing on a little ranch in the Morongo Valley. I just have my instruments, and nothing but the sound of the coyotes. Just all alone here. It’s lovely.
I live by the sea, so I think there’s something similar about these vast expanses, the places that make you feel small. It makes me think a lot more lucidly. I thought I would front load some rest and dream before the tour starts.
I think it’s fun that you’re in Portland on Halloween night. Was that intentional?
I knew somewhere had to be the Halloween show. I used to do them. I remember for my second album, [it was] one of my favorite shows. Every single person turned up with a pumpkin and put it on stage. I saw on the routing [and thought], let’s make sure Portland is the place.
There are these two amazing performance artists that I’m friends with, and they’re going to be doing a one-off show.
Abhora and Hallow Eve?
Yeah. [We’re] internet friends. We’ve been liking each other’s posts for like seven years, or something like that. I guess it’s a modern day version of pen friends.
Tell me about the “Night of 1000 Patrick Wolfs.” What are you expecting?
The way I was raised, in performance art and club kid world, is that there’s no such thing as a costume. That’s how you dress all year ’round. If anything, Samhain, or the bastardization, is like the spirits coming down to earth—the bad ones. And you scare them away with your costume. I think there’s nothing scarier than some of the looks that I’ve done in the past.
It could just turn out everyone turns up in a red wig and a gingham shirt. But I think they’re a bit cleverer than that. I bought a ukulele from home to pass on to somebody who wins the competition.
That’s really sweet! So, speaking of different instruments… You have been making music for a really long time, and I see you’ve explored a lot of different sounds and elements throughout that. I saw in “The Beast,” you’ve got a harpsichord?
Technically it’s called a bench-sized spinet. It’s like a smaller version of a harpsichord. I just say harpsichord because it’s easier.
I was playing with a handmade spooky little lyre thing, but I’ve upgraded for a proper alto lyre. I managed to fit it in my costume case, and it’s really beautiful.
What was your main instrument when you first started making music?
I was a violin player in an orchestra. Then I got shifted over to the viola. Basically, there’s a huge shortage of viola players, so violin teachers across the world are always trying to trick violinists into becoming viola players. Like, “Your hands are too big,” all this kind of stuff. So, I fell for it. Luckily, I kind of fell in love with John Kale at the same time, and he was a viola player.
I never actually bothered to learn the viola clef. I just decided to make my own music on it.
I haven’t had a chance to see it, but there is a documentary about you out now, premiering through film festivals.
It hasn’t had its U.S. premiere yet, so it’s just Canada, Australia, and the UK happening this week.
How did this documentary come together?
It’s very strange, because I was approached by a filmmaker, and he wanted to tell my story. He wanted to tell a human story, not like a music documentary.
I gave him a year of my life. He followed me the year I turned 40, around my garden. It was just meant to be a little portrait of me growing vegetables and sitting with my cats in the sun. His film, before mine, was a portrait of an isolated sheep farmer. It was very silent and beautiful, so I thought it was just going to be like that. The BFI—the British Film Institute—had seen the short that he was putting together, and they said, “We would like you to turn it into a film.” It just became this huge thing that, to be honest, I hadn’t signed up for.
There are things in there about addiction and grief, failure and starting over again. I hope that lives on as a little beacon for people who are lost.
Pretty vulnerable, I imagine.
There were a lot of bits that I felt uncomfortable with. You know, that’s the whole point, really. There’s something powerful in that. It’s something I’ll stand by, but from a distance.
How do you feel about the film coinciding with this tour?
I don’t think they’re related at all. The film finished filming two years ago.
But I think there’s something, if you see the film. It’s about somebody who spent 10 years unable to write, or do anything. I think it’s quite lovely that you see [it] and then you think, “Oh, hang on, he’s released like three eras since that.”
I was also curious, how did Tilda Swinton get involved in this?
She did the narration on my fourth album, called The Bachelor, which was like a single man at 24; gay man, hadn’t read The Velvet Rage yet, kind of angry with the world and couldn’t work out why. Until there was [this] voice of hope and consolation. She’s been the only spoken word voice in my work. I think it was just natural for Christian [Cargill] to want to choose somebody from the world I’d built to narrate the film.
What do you feel like has changed in your process of creation from when you were younger to now?
I think rather than a change, it’s been a restoration of that energy from when I was younger. The process of recovery, being sober and clean now, is a process of rebuilding that fortress. So, it’s a kind of restoration of that work, and now a kind of protection of that energy.
Do you think you’ll be back through Portland again in the future?
Oh, yeah. Some places I’ve been to, I’m like, “Okay, maybe I’ll never see you again.” But Portland—we’ve had a long term relationship, a lot of memorable shows. I’ll always be back.
Patrick Wolf plays McMenamins Mission Theater, 1624 NW Glisan, on Oct 31, 8 pm, $35.