IDLES: TANGK

There is apparently some controversy around this band in the UK. Something about them talking shit about the king or whatever. Which I suppose shouldn’t be a surprise, what with the whole “Fuck the king” line in their song “Gift Horse.” Honestly, though, the biggest controversy I could find in the US is how you write their name: Idles or the all-caps, IDLES. I went all caps, cuz fuck the king. Right?

Thing is, this band used to be Begbie. It was a surprise boot to the nertz from a wiry mustachioed pub thug. If that’s a thing, pub thug. But you get the idea. Speaking of idea, that’s how this record starts, with a soft, lovely track entitled “IDEA 01.” What’s this!? But that quickly cedes ground to the aforementioned banger about the king and how maybe he should get fucked, “Gift Horse.” I get it now. Thwack them in the sack when they least expect it. Those are my IDLES. But then we kind of downshift into what for them is this mid-tempo, stylized kind of drone thing on track three, “POP POP POP.” It, like a lot of the tunes, feels almost incomplete in some way. A heavily produced art piece, more thought experiment than song.

And, yes, there are some cool thoughts on this album. Some fresh sounds. But, to my ear (and expectations), they all set up tension that doesn’t pay off in the way I want. Granted, I always assume guitar blasts and room noise is the most authentic way to pay off build-and-burst aesthetics. But too often this record relies on oddball production choices that bury otherwise good ideas in weird effects and electronic bloops. And, yes, my ideas are incredibly Gen-X traditional, but there are so many instances where these songs just go nowhere, or are headed somewhere good only to have their trajectory cut short by studio nonsense. Granted, once of the best tracks, “Dancer,” is a collab with LCD Soundsystem, and is ostensibly about… dancing. But is one of the more agro songs on the record. Otherwise, their music is stylized in a very specific way that is hard to describe. But it’s one that has that kind of rhythmic repetitive thing that has a little bit of show tune and a little bit of a carnival barker. Kind of a more discordant, brutalistic Hamilton Leithauser. There are a couple tunes here that I’m drawn to, but I’m otherwise a bit bored and looking to move on by the time I get to the drone that is track eleven. Joe Talbot’s apparently out of gas. And so am I.