Idles didn't invent punk, but they gave it a new vocabulary. Brutalism and Joy as an Act of Resistance were raw, political and unexpectedly tender. Frontman Joe Talbot sang about masculinity, grief, immigration and love - and the crowd sang every word back. Bristol's finest became one of the most important British bands of the decade.
"Never Fight a Man With a Perm," "Danny Nedelko," "I'm Scum" - these aren't just mosh-pit anthems. They're manifestos for a generation that wanted rage and release without the nihilism. The live show is a communal experience; the albums keep pushing the sound into new territory. Tangk proved they could do groove and melody without losing the bite.
Joy as an act of resistance
Idles formed in Bristol and took years to find their voice. Early releases were heavier, more abrasive; it was Brutalism in 2017 that announced the band as something more. The album was still loud and confrontational, but it had heart. Joe Talbot's lyrics tackled grief (he'd lost his mother), toxic masculinity and the absurdity of modern life. The follow-up, Joy as an Act of Resistance, took that further. The title was a mission statement: in a world of division and despair, choosing joy was a political act. "Danny Nedelko" was a tribute to their immigrant friend and a rebuke to xenophobia; "Samaritans" took aim at the narrow definition of masculinity that leaves so many men isolated. The album was a hit, and Idles became the band that punk had been waiting for - one that could fill rooms and headlines without softening the message.
Ultra Mono and Crawler followed, each pushing the sound in new directions. The band were never content to repeat themselves; they added groove, melody and moments of quiet alongside the noise. Tangk, produced with Nigel Godrich, was the most melodic and varied record yet - and it proved that Idles could evolve without losing what made them special. The live show remained the centre of the experience: Talbot at the front, the crowd in his palm, and a sense that everyone in the room was part of something bigger.
The live experience
Seeing Idles live is to understand what they're about. The shows are intense, communal and surprisingly tender. Talbot has spoken about the importance of the crowd - about the exchange of energy and the sense that the room is a safe space for everyone to let go. The mosh pits are real, but so is the care. The band have become festival headliners and arena-fillers, and the scale hasn't diluted the message. If anything, it's amplified it: thousands of people shouting "I'm scum" or "This is the sound of the future" together is a powerful thing.
British punk had been declared dead too many times. Idles didn't revive it - they reminded everyone it was still there, waiting for someone to shout the right words. They've given a generation a band that can channel anger into something constructive, and that can make you want to dance and think at the same time. The next chapter will be as loud as the last - and the crowd will be ready.
Still there, still loud
British punk had been declared dead too many times. Idles didn't revive it - they reminded everyone it was still there, waiting for someone to shout the right words. The next chapter will be as loud as the last.