Idles

This was the gig that we had all been patiently waiting for. Ever since the date was announced back on November 5thwe knew that this would be an incendiary show. Tickets sold out within two hours of going on sale and, for those lucky enough to get one, the anticipation had been building relentlessly ever since. So, not surprisingly, there was an air of tension that almost crackled in the Nick Rayns LCR last night, even before the Bristolian quintet had stepped onto the stage.

It certainly seemed to fire up the support band Crows, who mopped up the energy from the audience, squeezed it out and hurled it straight back in an amazing set that was in a totally different league from their visit here in 2016, when they opened for Wolf Alice. Recently signed to Joe Talbot's Balley Records (a consequence of text messages initially exchanged at Latitude Festival, where Crows' singer James Cox was working in a burrito van and IDLES were performing on the Lake Stage), the band are incredibly tight and charismatic and they romp through tracks from newly-released album Silver Tongues. With Cox's vocals channelled through two microphones, stands being alternately hurled around stage then gripped like a pair of crutches, numbers like Demeanour, Wednesday's Child and Chain of Being act as conduits for the band's anger and rage as Jesus and Mary Chain-like guitar distortions spills from the speakers, and the drums get a relentless pounding. My god, they were good.

IDLES do not disappoint either. The band emerge, vocalist Joe Talbot dressed in black, guitarist Lee Kiernan sporting a smart white T, bearded bass player Adam Devonshire resplendent in blue floral shirt, but Mark Bowen opting for just black sports shorts, socks and trainers. They start with Colossus, a powerful song that sets the tone for tonight, and typifies the music of IDLES in general. They may sound loud and noisy, with bullet-point lyrics that are at times in danger of being spat out like football terrace chants, but this music contains brilliantly crafted slices of wit and irony set out to debunk male toxicity, xenophobia and anti-matriarchy. Most of the audience seem to understand, and are here to share in the love and mutual respect, taking the energy and transforming it into massed surging and waving of arms. One or two dickheads seem to think that it is a chance to throw their weight around, and it is not long before Talbot stops the gig and threatens to have them removed if they don't embrace the unity of the evening. Full marks, too, to the LCR security, who are monitoring everything with keen eyes, keeping everyone safe, and even respecting the band's wishes when one over-enthusiastic crowd-surfer seems intent on evading their reach.

There were criticisms that, after an hour, IDLE's set becomes a bit 'samey', which may be a little harsh when the subject matter of the songs is so intensely relevant and consequential, and honed from personal observation as well as tragedy. Danny Nedeko, Divide & Conquer, Mother, and Samaritans (which is preceded by a surreal excerpt from Maria Carey's All I Want For Christmas, but followed with the moving Solomon Burke hit Cry To Me) all strike chords with me, and with Bowen and Kiernan taking repeated excursions into the audience, there is certainly no let up in the action or the pace right up until the end of the extended finale of Rottweiler. Powerful stage lights scatter off the mirrorball as strobes and high intensity floor lamps scorch our retinas. Talbot leaves the stage first, followed by drummer Jon Beavis. Devonshire, Bowen and Kiernan remain, channelling and controlling their guitar distortions in dramatic style until the stage is finally empty, and the house lights come up.

As the audience makes their way to the exits, the floor is an absolute sea of plastic shards from the trampled remains of the UEA's 'reusable' pint glasses, a testament (if one were needed) to the energy unleashed in the LCR tonight. This is a night that we will not forget in a while.