Idle thoughts on IDLES: Vancouver, May 3rd, PNE Forum

All photos of IDLES by Allan MacInnis, not to be reused without permission.

It's interesting that people don't talk about class much these days. 

I mean, sure, East Van political punk bands like Alien Boys do. You'd expect that. But for the most part, at least in the circles I travel, everyone seems more concerned with decolonization, indigenization, gender politics and race. All of which are important and worthy, as well, but looking at the impacts of being born poor, or working class, with the limited opportunities and lowered horizons that implies, is not really seemingly an area of great public concern, maybe because the people who are conducting the conversations around those other issues generally aren't from lower-or-working class backgrounds? Is defending the underprivileged from those other demographics a way of safeguarding your own privilege in terms of class position? Or are people from a working class background -- associated with reactionary attitudes and conservative politics -- somehow regarded as suspect, potential enemies? 

...Maybe that's why IDLES are so huge? They tap into and give potent expression to working class frustration in a way bands like the Sleaford Mods barely touch. There's a real class rage in their lyrics; at their most potent, a potent phrase can send a chill down your spine. Take a look at the lyrics to "I'm Scum." (Incidentally, council houses are a kind of subsidized housing for the poor in the UK; if you've seen the Michael Caine movie Harry Brown, the apartment buildings there, grim as they are, are council houses): 

I'm council house and violent
I'm laughing at the tyrants
I'm sleeping under sirens
Whilst wondering where the time went
I'm scum
I'm scum

I sing at fascists 'til my head comes off
I am Dennis Skinner's Molotov
I'm lefty, I'm soft
I'm minimum wage job
I am a mongrel dog
I'm just another cunt
I'm scum
I'm scum

This snowflake's an avalanche

Dirty rotten filthy scum

For a long long while I'm known as 

Dirty rotten filthy scum
For a long old while I'm known as scum
I'm scum

Spit in your percolator
I am procrastinator
I over-tip the waiter
Sarcastic amputator
'Cause I'm scum
I'm scum

I don't care about the next James Bond
He kills for country, queen and god
We don't need another murderous toff
I'm just wondering where the High Street's gone
'Cause I'm scum
I'm scum

This snowflake's an avalanche

Dirty rotten filthy scum
For a long long while I'm known as
Dirty rotten filthy scum

For a long old while I'm known as scum
For a long old while I'm known as scum
For a long old while I'm known as scum
For a long old while I'm known as scum

I only caught the first three minutes of this song on video, because I was standing somewhere security didn't want me, and two separate guards came up to me to shoo me away, at which point I felt I had best comply (it's funny, they were telling me I was a fire hazard, standing in the back row of the venue, but there were a good dozen of them up there; were they also fire hazards?). You do get a sense of just how huge the crowd for IDLES was from that clip, but what you miss is that shortly after the video cuts, singer Joe Talbot led the crowd in a chant of "fuck the King" that lasted a few minutes unto itself, with Talbot remarking to cheers and laughs afterwards, "Fuck me, you do NOT like the King!" 

It's funny to me that Talbot doesn't think IDLES is a punk band. I think IDLES is a punk band; maybe he just has a different idea of what that means? I actually think they're the most important punk band since probably the Clash. I've gone to a fair number of shows by bands associated with punk in one way or another but none that I've seen have drawn as huge, varied, or enthusiastic a crowd as we saw at the PNE Forum for IDLES, unless I go all the way back to seeing the Clash on the Out of Control tour back in 1984, which filled the Pacific Coliseum, next door. Joe Strummer would have loved a song like "Danny Nedelko." Lyrics: 

My blood brother is an immigrant
A beautiful immigrant
My blood brother's Freddie Mercury
A Nigerian mother of three
He's made of bones, he's made of blood
He's made of flesh, he's made of love
He's made of you, he's made of me
Unity

Fear leads to panic, panic leads to pain
Pain leads to anger, anger leads to hate
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, ah, ah, ah, ah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, ah, ah, ah, ah
Danny Nedelko

My best friend is an alien (I know him, and he is)
My best friend is a citizen
He's strong, he's earnest, he's innocent
My blood brother is Malala
A Polish butcher, he's Mo Farah
He's made of bones, he's made of blood
He's made of flesh, he's made of love
He's made of you, he's made of me
Unity

Fear leads to panic, panic leads to pain
Pain leads to anger, anger leads to hate
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, ah, ah, ah, ah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, ah, ah, ah, ah
Danny Nedelko

The D, the A, the N, the N, the Y
The N, the E, the D, the E, the L
The K, the O, the C, the O, the M
The M, the U, the N, the I, the T
The Y, the S, the O, the F, the U
The C, the K, the Y, the O and the U
And you, and you, and you
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, ah, ah, ah, ah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, ah, ah, ah, ah
Danny Nedelko
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, ah, ah, ah, ah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, ah, ah, ah, ah
Danny Nedelko

Great sentiments, here (I found myself contemplating how many points Vancouver's own best class-based punk band Bishops Green would score if they issued such a sentiment -- but maybe they have?).  Talbot paced the stage, belting out these songs tirelessly through one of the longest sets I've seen lately, 24 songs in all, with frequent between song acknowledgements of his struggles, his band, and his gratitude for where he is now. He also sent out love -- see the "Danny Nedelko" clip above -- to Palestine on more than one occasion. Meanwhile, roadies fed cable into the pit so one of the guitarists, I'm guessing Mark Bowen, could crowd-surf. I was very glad I got to see them -- but also very physically uncomfortable, my feet aching on the concrete floor and sweat dripping down my face from the sheer body heat generated by a crowd that size. I'm not practiced being in as big a crowd as this -- I prefer my music less popular -- and certainly not a crowd where moshing spread out quite as far back as it did. I've only recently started to hook into IDLES, but was determined to stick it out for at least "Never Fight a Man with a Perm" and "Danny Nedelko," which is exactly what I did, escaping to the tune of "Rottweiler;" I still only know a half-dozen of their songs, really, but it's enough to know they're phenomenal.  

There were a few contradictions that I couldn't quite fit my head around, mind you, from t-shirts selling for $55, which seems to be the new going rate for a band shirt, but not a great gesture of class warfare, unless it's warfare being waged from above.  I remember when the Rebel Spell used to sell CDs for five bucks, so that everyone could afford them, back when CDs were still a thing and the going rate at merch tables was $15 or $20. There was also, I saw, as I left the venue, a long row of stretch limousines along Renfrew. This is not the band's fault, of course, but still incongruous: were they there for some other event, or does anyone seriously come out of a concert like IDLES to catch a ride in a fucking limo?

Me, I walked to the bus stop. I've been amply distracted by a writing project and by the Violent Femmes, these last couple of days, so whatever other memories I had hoped to retain are now scattered, but I'm going to get back to listening to IDLES presently. 

Hell of a band.

(Opening act Protomartyr)