Alanis Morissette Steals the Spotlight—Powderham Castle Braces for Emotional Fireworks

Mia Reynolds, 12/6/2025Alanis Morissette brings her iconic voice to Powderham Castle this June, closing out a major festival lineup. This performance promises a blend of nostalgia and new energy, uniting generations of fans through powerful lyrics and unforgettable melodies. Join the emotional celebration of music and memory!

Yet, there’s more than pure nostalgia at play. Morissette’s headlining gig isn’t just another notch on the endless belt of summer festivals. For countless survivors of 1990s adolescence, it's practically a rite of passage—one stitched directly into youthful soundtracks thanks to *Jagged Little Pill*. Back when dial-up internet and actual mixtapes were the norm, Alanis achieved a kind of mythos; she sold out stadiums through sheer force of voice and lyrics, all the while social media was just a rumor. Promoter Oli Mason put it best, sounding both impressed and a little wistful himself, recalling those days when fandom was measured in ticket stubs, not TikTok followers.

This year, though, isn’t just a reunion for the original fans—anyone pegging it as pure throwback hasn’t been paying much attention. Alanis’s Devon gig fits neatly into a run of major outdoor shows across the UK and Ireland, including headline turns at Crystal Palace Park and Glasgow’s Bellahouston Park, as though the calendar itself can’t resist her pull. And look closer at the Powderham bill: Skunk Anansie, always defiant; Wet Leg, fresh from setting indie radio ablaze. That’s a generational handoff in action, a subtle “here’s how it’s done” threaded among the amps and footlights.

At Glastonbury 2025, the scene repeated; the usual older diehards jostled with a younger wave pushing forward, faces half-lit by the glow of giant screens. Even Anya Taylor-Joy, steely-eyed and cinematic as ever, was glimpsed at the wings—a sly reminder that Alanis’s reach goes beyond playlists and into the creative bloodstream.

Of course, the stats tell the headline story: 60 million records worldwide. Three million sold in the UK alone. But songs like “Hand In My Pocket,” “Ironic,” and “Thank U” do something notes and numbers never quite manage—they become personal currency, emotional touchstones collected through rainy bus rides and late-night bedroom confessions. For many, those verses still hum quietly beneath the noise of adult life.

Oli Mason, the festival’s driving force, doesn’t bother dressing up the facts: *Jagged Little Pill* wasn’t just successful, it set a new bar for how open songwriting ought to be. Lyrics as sharp as broken glass, voice as raw as a grazed knee. Alanis made speaking the truth seem almost revolutionary, and years later, the world still hasn’t untangled all those knots.

But let’s not pretend this is a mere memory lane parade. The festival is poised to draw 130,000 music lovers, with most traveling from outside the South West. Devon’s hotels and neighborhood pubs are bracing for the onslaught—the kind that leaves lingering echoes in local ledgers as well as on the dance floor. After years of pandemic uncertainty, this surge feels more like a homecoming than a commercial event. Mason, ever the optimist, envisions the whole region vibrating with life, receipts, and reunited fans.

And, as seasoned reviewers will tell you, Alanis live is a category unto itself—her recent outings at The O2, Glastonbury, even Madrid’s Mad Cool Festival, have drawn praise that dances just on this side of reverent. There’s something almost alchemical in how she blends choruses with catharsis; her riffs and refrains hold space for protest as readily as nostalgia. “Hopeful” is a word that gets thrown around, often carelessly, but in this case, it clings to the air long after the amps go silent.

Personal context: For some, Alanis lyrics still lurk in the margins of old notebooks, forever dog-eared reminders of growing up a little too fast. There’s a hunch that, this summer, Powderham might just cast the same spell for a whole new crop of fans—rain or shine, plaid or no plaid. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but isn’t live music meant to give us that little jolt of possibility?

So picture it: porches full, locals craning their necks, that singular moment when a familiar note splits the night. Powderham Castle, part castle, part echo chamber, transformed into a vessel for shared emotion. For one brief spell, Alanis isn’t only calling back her legacy—she’s breathing new life into it, inviting both seasoned devotees and wide-eyed newcomers to lose themselves in the noise, and the quiet that follows.

It all comes back, really, to the act of singing along—shoulder to shoulder, young and old, no irony in sight—shouting lyrics into the half-lit sky, sure only of the joy of the moment. In the crowded field of summer festivals, that’s the kind of magic that refuses to fade.

Most people hear “You Oughta Know,” and—almost involuntarily—a little fire sparks behind the eyes. It’s Alanis Morissette, unfiltered and unforgettable, yelling back at the world. Now, as the sun peeks over a Devon summer in June 2026, it's Powderham Castle’s turn for a legendary echo: Alanis closing out the headline slot for TK Maxx Presents Live At Powderham. Anyone keeping an old pair of Doc Martens on standby or still finding wistful Polaroids of plaid-wrapped concert nights—well, consider this an occasion.Yet, there’s more than pure nostalgia at play. Morissette’s headlining gig isn’t just another notch on the endless belt of summer festivals. For countless survivors of 1990s adolescence, it's practically a rite of passage—one stitched directly into youthful soundtracks thanks to *Jagged Little Pill*. Back when dial-up internet and actual mixtapes were the norm, Alanis achieved a kind of mythos; she sold out stadiums through sheer force of voice and lyrics, all the while social media was just a rumor. Promoter Oli Mason put it best, sounding both impressed and a little wistful himself, recalling those days when fandom was measured in ticket stubs, not TikTok followers.This year, though, isn’t just a reunion for the original fans—anyone pegging it as pure throwback hasn’t been paying much attention. Alanis’s Devon gig fits neatly into a run of major outdoor shows across the UK and Ireland, including headline turns at Crystal Palace Park and Glasgow’s Bellahouston Park, as though the calendar itself can’t resist her pull. And look closer at the Powderham bill: Skunk Anansie, always defiant; Wet Leg, fresh from setting indie radio ablaze. That’s a generational handoff in action, a subtle “here’s how it’s done” threaded among the amps and footlights.At Glastonbury 2025, the scene repeated; the usual older diehards jostled with a younger wave pushing forward, faces half-lit by the glow of giant screens. Even Anya Taylor-Joy, steely-eyed and cinematic as ever, was glimpsed at the wings—a sly reminder that Alanis’s reach goes beyond playlists and into the creative bloodstream.Of course, the stats tell the headline story: 60 million records worldwide. Three million sold in the UK alone. But songs like “Hand In My Pocket,” “Ironic,” and “Thank U” do something notes and numbers never quite manage—they become personal currency, emotional touchstones collected through rainy bus rides and late-night bedroom confessions. For many, those verses still hum quietly beneath the noise of adult life.Oli Mason, the festival’s driving force, doesn’t bother dressing up the facts: *Jagged Little Pill* wasn’t just successful, it set a new bar for how open songwriting ought to be. Lyrics as sharp as broken glass, voice as raw as a grazed knee. Alanis made speaking the truth seem almost revolutionary, and years later, the world still hasn’t untangled all those knots.But let’s not pretend this is a mere memory lane parade. The festival is poised to draw 130,000 music lovers, with most traveling from outside the South West. Devon’s hotels and neighborhood pubs are bracing for the onslaught—the kind that leaves lingering echoes in local ledgers as well as on the dance floor. After years of pandemic uncertainty, this surge feels more like a homecoming than a commercial event. Mason, ever the optimist, envisions the whole region vibrating with life, receipts, and reunited fans.And, as seasoned reviewers will tell you, Alanis live is a category unto itself—her recent outings at The O2, Glastonbury, even Madrid’s Mad Cool Festival, have drawn praise that dances just on this side of reverent. There’s something almost alchemical in how she blends choruses with catharsis; her riffs and refrains hold space for protest as readily as nostalgia. “Hopeful” is a word that gets thrown around, often carelessly, but in this case, it clings to the air long after the amps go silent.Personal context: For some, Alanis lyrics still lurk in the margins of old notebooks, forever dog-eared reminders of growing up a little too fast. There’s a hunch that, this summer, Powderham might just cast the same spell for a whole new crop of fans—rain or shine, plaid or no plaid. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but isn’t live music meant to give us that little jolt of possibility?So picture it: porches full, locals craning their necks, that singular moment when a familiar note splits the night. Powderham Castle, part castle, part echo chamber, transformed into a vessel for shared emotion. For one brief spell, Alanis isn’t only calling back her legacy—she’s breathing new life into it, inviting both seasoned devotees and wide-eyed newcomers to lose themselves in the noise, and the quiet that follows.It all comes back, really, to the act of singing along—shoulder to shoulder, young and old, no irony in sight—shouting lyrics into the half-lit sky, sure only of the joy of the moment. In the crowded field of summer festivals, that’s the kind of magic that refuses to fade.