• Reviews

• All
• Music
• DVDs
• Live
• Cinema
• TV
• Books
• Comic Books
• Video Games

Feb 16, 2024 Web Exclusive By Michael James Hall

Over the years IDLES have proven to be a surprisingly divisive band. Derided by some for their earnest lyrics, sloganeering, and self-flagellating portrayal of male angst, they’re celebrated by as many for precisely the same. Their career trajectory has largely been impervious to those resistant to their unironic, vulnerable stance. The pitch-black savagery of their 2017 debut, Brutalism, gave way to the addictive breakthrough album, Joy as an Act of Resistance, the next year. And while the 2020 follow-up, Ultra Mono, stumbled, 2021’s CRAWLER saw the band both develop musically and delve ever deeper into personal trauma. They’ve gained a deserved reputation as an incendiary live act while the naysayers look down on their message of unity from the sidelines.

TANGK may prove schismatic even within their dedicated fanbase. Largely dispensing with the kind of broadstrokes anthems with which they made their name and pulling further away from the tenets of populist punk, it’s an album that often astounds with its invention. Vocalist Joe Talbot’s political and personal concerns (far more of the latter than the former) are here draped over an ever-expanding musical tableaux of loops, motorik beats, and unconventional instrumentation.

It’s a tense, bruised, and soulful album, as much evidenced on the dreamlike, piano-led “A Gospel” as in the teeth-grinding, ragged agony of “Jungle.” The sonic experimentation first braved on CRAWLER has come fully to the forefront, with opener “IDEA 01” laying out the game plan with a pirouetting piano loop, juddering electronica, and Talbot’s freshly restrained, carefully controlled vocal (“Your mother swang like your life depended / It did”).

It’s not that they’ve lost their fire, though, as “Gift Horse,” built on Adam Devonshire’s burbling, low-slung bass and Jon Beavis’ strict rhythms positively howls with love (“My baby is beautiful / All is love and love is all”). Meanwhile, “Hall & Oates” fires up into a song of adoration that can barely contain its vicious, viscous lust (“I loved my man from the very start / He turned forgiveness into an art / You’ll never tear us apart”).

You’ll be as likely to hear the influence of Squarepusher or Aphex Twin (the warped wail and stuttering beats of “POP POP POP”) as you will Melvins or The Jesus Lizard (“Gratitude” with its awkward, down-tuned chord progression and madly howled chorus). It’s not like it’s Phillip Glass does punk rock or anything, but it’s no stretch to occasionally recall, say, William Basinski in its dark soundscapes or even Jon Hopkins in its delicate, eerie tone.

TANGK’s ambition and wild variety can be dizzying. “Roy” nods to both The Cure and ’50s rock ‘n’ roll as nightmarish guitar shudders through Talbot’s soulful, anguished croon (“I am baby’s breath / I dance with death / Will you kneel?”), while closer “Monolith” is a tearful, minimalist poem of male love that borders on the religious and bares Talbot’s most beautiful vocal performance to date (“Who needs wings when I hear you sing?”). The closing notes are as surprising as they are moving. Perhaps the only flaw in TANGK’s armor is single “Dancer,” which is very much in the mold of the IDLES of old and feels flat when “cheek to cheek” with other such adventurous material.

Guitarist and co-songwriter Mark Bowen must be given huge plaudits here as he, aided by producers Kenny Beats and Nigel Godrich, has elevated IDLES’ material to an entirely higher, more enveloping, hypnotic plain. Fellow guitarist Lee Kiernon shows tremendous restraint, splashing feedback color judiciously and artfully.

The very best bands, the rarest and most special, are often the ones who can shed the trappings of their genre while staying true to their ethos and essence. On TANGK, IDLES have broadened their horizons while retaining the guts and soul that made them. With prudence, craft, and ambition they’ve created something that borders on the monumental. Divisions be damned. (www.idlesband.com)

Author rating: 9/10