From their Rolling Stone UK cover story to their social media to nearly every song on their fifth album TANGK, IDLES are preaching the message of love. “All is love and love is all,” vocalist Joe Talbot barks on “Gift Horse,” a lyric they’ve also used as a sign-off on their Instagram posts. There are similar platitudes throughout TANGK: “No god no king / I said love is the thing,” Talbot repeats later on “Grace.” The Bristol group have called this their love album; “every song is a love song,” per the band. Like a Target ad during Pride Month, IDLES insist that you know that love is love is love is love. But look for the specifics and their message starts to falter—as they aim for something unifying but land on something vacant. The message of love for love’s sake is an honorable one, but it isn’t infallible.
The best moments in TANGK anchor the group’s lovey-dovey gospel into something real. “Roy” conjures the risk of vulnerability that true love can make you feel. “Babe / Baby / I’m a smart man / But I’m dumb for you,” Talbot howls on top of a demented waltz. As a vocalist, he has always excelled at channeling desperation. He uses the full force of his voice, extending to a roar on the bridge. You can feel him spill his emotional guts behind the microphone. This is love with some stakes.
“Hall and Oates” is an ode to a man who makes Talbot feel like “Hall and Oates is playing in [his] ear.” It’s a silly and unserious metaphor, especially because he sings it with a menacing growl. But, it’s boisterous and danceable—serving as a silly anthem for the parts of love that are joyful and light. It works because it ties IDLES’ “love is all” philosophy to something specific, like the sugar rush of “You Make My Dreams (Come True).” Lead single “Dancer” focuses on the sensation of dancing with someone, which is its own kind of love. The band’s rhythm section is concrete and solid. It chugs along with steady force, and its chorus—featuring James Murphy and Nancy Whang of LCD Soundsystem on vocals—relishes in the physicality of dancing “cheek to cheek.”
But for every song that does justice to IDLES’ noble message, there’s another that cheapens it. Talbot addresses his daughter on “Gift Horse:” “My baby, she so great / I wake up grateful every day / My baby is beautiful / All is love and love is all.” Sure, there’s nothing inherently wrong with his sentiments here (aside from the fact that “great” is a pretty dead-on-arrival word for effectively depicting any kind of love). But the song follows it up with, of all things, “Fuck the king.” IDLES have made plenty of kickass anti-monarchy songs, and their “Fuck the king/queen” chants are often a highlight of their live shows. But here, it feels like an abrasive pivot. Shouldn’t there be more to say on the kind of love that “Gift Horse” is about? It’s particularly disappointing, especially because “Gift Horse” is also one of TANGK’s most vibrant songs. They speed right through its roller-coaster chorus, and Talbot’s choppy, alliterative delivery adds even more momentum. Instead, the song ends on a sour, unnecessary message. A hearty “Fuck the king” has its place, somewhere. Just not here.
In order to make their love album, IDLES guitarist and producer Mark Bowen collaborated with Nigel Godrich (Radiohead, Beck, The Smile) along with Kenny Beats, who has production credits on their last two records, too. The production of TANGK shifts into something softer, darker, more reflective, and more elastic. Opener “IDEA 01” and closer “Monolith” are both stark and minimal, with uncharacteristically soft melodies from Talbot. But these moments of tenderness are too nebulous and unspecific to live up to the album’s ambition. “POP POP POP”—another mid-tempo mood—trudges along with vague statements of admiration: “Freudenfreude / Badabing / She’s a freight train, man / Watch her swing.” TANGK’s mellower side is often striking (“A Gospel” is, without a doubt, IDLES’s most beautiful track), but it puts increased attention on lyrics that don’t shine under the spotlight. Talbot bragged that he wrote most of the lyrics off the cuff, with only “Grace” written before recording began. For the most part, you can tell.
What is most surprising about TANGK is that this is their love album, as opposed to others in their catalog. Their first two records–2017’s Brutalism and 2018’s Joy As An Act of Resistance–were politically-charged evocations of the post-Brexit United Kingdom. But their frustrations came from a place of love and respect. They were political records built on values of love and mutual support. Even 2020’s maligned Ultra Mono was, in its own way, a more concrete statement of love, despite its lyrics often coming across as reductive—and the album earned criticism for supposed-sloganeering, but it also relied upon the band’s foundation of empathy.
IDLES have always had their heart in the right place. 2022’s CRAWLER eschewed their overt politics for a more personal statement. It’s an album about addiction, sobriety, their bond as a band and their relationship with fans. CRAWLER, especially, reads like a love album—a demonstration of the hard work and self-reflection required to be the most loving version of yourself. Talbot’s integrity could be felt on every beat. But TANGK boils love down so much it’s not clear if there’s anything there at all.
Read our recent cover story on IDLES here.
Andy Steiner is a writer and musician. When he’s not reviewing albums, you can find him collecting ‘80s Rush merchandise. Follow him on Instagram or Twitter.
