In the autumn of 2024, Alabama Shakes appeared content to let their indefinite hiatus continue – and few expected otherwise. Seven years had passed since the blues-soul-rock group from Athens, Alabama, had last taken the stage together. Their 2012 debut Boys & Girls had broken them internationally; 2015’s Sound & Color topped the US charts, sold more than a million copies and earned four Grammy awards. Admirers ranged from Bruce Springsteen and Robert Plant to Barack Obama. Yet by 2017 they were drained, both physically and creatively, and chose to stop. Then, in December 2024, almost without announcement, they returned to the stage for the first time in over seven years.

“We had a friend in Tuscaloosa who owned a brewery that was struggling after Covid,” says singer Brittany Howard. “He called to say he was organising a fundraiser and asked if I’d play. I said, ‘Absolutely.’” As she thought about it, she realised how much that friend had supported the band over the years. It felt right to show up not just individually, but together. “So I rang the guys,” she smiles. “‘Do you want to do this as a band?’ They said yes straight away.”

Before long, they were rehearsing songs that had sat untouched for years. On 18 December 2024, they walked onto the stage of the 1,000-capacity Bama Theatre to a euphoric welcome. Guitarist Heath Fogg still sounds amazed. “It felt surreal,” he says. “Just pure gratitude and joy. I hadn’t played those songs since our last show, hadn’t even listened to them unless one came on somewhere by accident. We hadn’t told anyone we were playing, yet we knew so many faces in the crowd. The surprise made it electric.”

For Howard, that night made one thing clear. “It felt natural to say: ‘Let’s keep going. Let’s rehearse properly. Let’s write. Let’s tour.’ I thought we’d ease back in with small venues, but instead we’re playing some of the biggest crowds we ever have. It’s wild – and beautiful.”

Part of that resurgence centres on a song. Released in April, American Dream – a gospel-inflected reflection on a nation in turmoil that still refuses to give up – spread rapidly across TikTok and Instagram. Within weeks, Howard was once again at the heart of cultural debate after a decade of critically praised but quieter solo projects. She has described its lyrics, touching on gun violence, climate change, reproductive rights, low pay and even presidential excess, as “a snapshot of 2026,” hoping future listeners might say: “Things were chaotic, but we survived.”

Its impact stands out in a time when protest music often struggles to cut through. While a few veteran artists have delivered powerful responses to recent political crises, many contemporary attempts feel either simplistic or polarising, unable to bridge divides. Alabama Shakes, almost overnight, reclaimed a rare space: fierce yet optimistic, capable of anger and uplift in the same breath. “We’ve hinted at these themes before,” Howard says, “but now we’re diving in deeper.”

We meet in Leeds the day before their show at Millennium Square, their first European date in a decade. Howard, who will appear on stage in a glittering, dramatic gown, is dressed casually and battling jet lag. Fogg, equally tired, has spent the day exploring the city and excitedly recounts his visit to its oldest pub, built in 1715. Bassist Zac Cockrell is absent, likely catching up on sleep.

The setlist blends staples such as Hold On – now well past 225 million Spotify streams – with songs from their forthcoming third album, I Must Be Dreaming. The record marks a bold shift from their earlier, full-throated retro soul. It leans toward something more atmospheric and occasionally psychedelic, exploring love, national identity and the dizzying pace of modern existence.

“There’s a clear difference between our first and second albums,” Howard explains, “but there’s always a thread connecting them. I feel that with this one too. We’re older, we’ve lived more, but chasing the unexpected has always been the fun.” The dreamy opener Tea Time is built around flutes; Time stretches into a psychedelic jam. Lead single Another Life shifts from smooth R&B into hazy rock, driven by a soaring refrain: “Can we try again? Can we try in another life?”

“It’s about accepting that a relationship has run aground,” Howard says, “and hoping maybe it works out somewhere else, some other time.”

Could that idea reflect the band’s own story? She pauses. “Maybe, subconsciously. It is unusual to come back like this. But it feels honest. No one’s forcing it. When we first started, it was about friends asking, ‘What do you love? How do we blend that?’ Reuniting felt the same – ‘What are you into now?’”

The trio attended the same high school without really knowing each other. Howard noticed Cockrell wearing an At the Drive-In T-shirt and sensed a connection. “I went up to him in class and later played him a CD in his Honda Civic. That was terrifying,” she laughs. “He skipped through the tracks and I thought, ‘He hates this.’ Then he said, ‘This is cool. Let’s start something.’” Fogg, a few years older, soon joined them. They bonded over punk, rock, R&B and the classic records they’d grown up hearing at home.

Though Howard’s voice would become the band’s defining force, she began as a drummer and picked up other instruments out of necessity. She only realised she could truly sing when her mother heard a recording and expressed surprise. She describes her upbringing in Limestone County as slow and pastoral, filled with open fields and close-knit neighbours. Life was gentle on the surface, but not without hardship. Howard, who is mixed-race and gay, lost her sister Jaime to retinoblastoma when they were children; her parents separated soon after. She later honoured Jaime, who taught her piano, with her 2019 solo album. Howard also survived the same illness, losing partial sight in one eye.

With the band as an outlet, they played wherever they could: local bars, retirement homes, distant clubs in Birmingham and Nashville. Gradually, higher-profile support slots followed. “We played for anyone who’d listen, even if it cost us,” Howard says. “We just wanted to make an album. We never imagined people would connect like they did.” She remains mindful of how many gifted artists never get such a break. “It’s humbling. So many don’t get heard.”

They still marvel at milestones such as performing at the White House for President Obama. Fogg recalls the handshake and the warmth of Michelle Obama’s embrace. In 2015, Howard shared vocals with Paul McCartney during a festival headline set. “You forget you’re standing next to a Beatle,” she says. “His energy is unreal.”

Their ascent coincided with a moment when record labels and emerging streaming platforms could still align to create mainstream breakthroughs. Yet by 2017, with growing families and exhaustion setting in, they chose to pause. “We’d been sprinting for years,” Howard says. “If we hadn’t stopped, we might have burned it out. Protecting each other mattered more.”

During the hiatus, Howard released two solo albums and embraced everyday routines at home. She briefly married musician Jesse Lafser in 2019; the relationship ended within a year. The period also brought turmoil when former drummer Steve Johnson faced legal issues. The band ultimately moved forward without him.

“You can’t travel this far without complications,” Howard says carefully. “But we focus on moving ahead.”

Experience, she believes, has softened her. “I still have fight in me, but I’m more reflective now. I know I can’t fix everything.” Still, songs such as the jazz-tinged I Feel Hope Coming carry unmistakable optimism.

“I see people standing up for each other,” she says. “Outrage can lead to dialogue, and dialogue can lead to change. Most people just want security, dignity and the chance to dream for their families. That’s the heart of these songs.”

Soon she will step on stage and give voice to that conviction. She hopes tracks like American Dream and I Feel Hope Coming capture a turning point – a shift away from division and toward accountability and shared purpose.

“I see people who were frustrated finally calling out what’s wrong and deciding to act,” she says. Fogg nods in agreement. “Hope is where it starts. First you believe things can change. Then you make them change.”

I Must Be Dreaming is released on 28 August via Island Records.