Idles – Brutalism Review

Ruthless tones and a commitment to a vision which has since worsened as the years go by – Idles is and was at the forefront of punching up. Powers that be cannot rest when the likes of Brutalism hang around and though the venom which made their debut, nearing its ten-year anniversary at startling, uncomfortable speed, has dried up somewhat, it is chilling to hear how relevant this first album still is. Drum machines and the titular cruelty which vocalist Joe Talbot and company were brought up in, the architecture of the times has left its mark on culture and on their conscience. When the band were at their raw beginnings, they were keen to screech, whine and scream – the horror of the world around him heard in the pained strains of Heel / Heal – and it is such a shame to hear it disperse.  

What may be harsh at the time is still relevant and Well Done shows it. Medals and the evaluation of achievement are grounded down into a fine paste here, the interpretation of success through the example of Mary Berry works well. It is hard to forget where you were when Mother first played. Talbot and company have since drifted from their punk roots, not outgrowing it but failing to keep pace with an ever-evolving statement on the world around them. When the issues are all the same it is hard to keep bashing away – though Brutalism is a clear example of how hard it is to do it well. Idles observes some of their best songs of all here, Mother included, the strained and real rage found throughout is mesmerising.  

Counting in the spit and rage of Faith in the City has Idles, gloves off, swinging for anything they can. It is the finest part of this debut release as it gives them a section of intent but it also pulls away at what they could achieve with a refined punk kick. Spreading their aim wide with a scattergun of bile works well enough but Idles should enter knowing who to hit out at and why. They figure it out while they record leading to some grand pieces like Divide and Conquer and some surprisingly deeper cuts of soulful experiences on Rachel Khoo. But the lacklustre or less-than-stellar plugs in and around those highlights are hard to swallow, a tough realisation which showcases Idles as a band in need of honing themselves.  

They do now and look at the result. Perhaps we had it too good and did not know it. Brutalism still stands as a weighty beast – a piece of work which provides evidence to the idea that an artist having nothing to lose will land their best work. Brutalism does a number on the world around Idles and the likes of Exeter are to thank for it. Bubbling, raging, early days of the post-punk would soon grip the Brits and bring about a new sense of belonging for those who bought Doc Martens and a cord jacket a few years too late. Bar fights, boozy nights on the street and sobering up to face off against the real world, all of it is right here and within the heart of Idles, or was, anyway. Now their punk attitudes are softening and embracing love, their change of pace from documenting all the horrors of the world in one go, and adapting from there.