Idles What the f asterisk asterisk asterisk is wrong with Sleaford Mods?
Hes a f asterisk asterisk asterisk ing bully. Ive never once claimed to be working class and for him to misrepresent me like that – it was disembowelling. Joe Talbot, lead singer of Idles, is taking issue with Jason Williamson, lead singer of Sleaford Mods. The spat between these two icons of austerity era post punk has been battering away for quite a while now. For almost a year, the Nottingham duo have repeatedly trolled Idles on Twitter and attacked them in newspaper interviews, accusing them of falsely appropriating a working class voice.
Their line of thinking is that, because Talbot grew up the son of middle class parents in an affluent Exeter suburb – dad an artist; mum an inland revenue worker – his support of left wing causes is an affectation. Cliched, patronising, insulting and mediocre, Williamson said in one Q andA.
The attacks have seemed more pointed because, in several early interviews, Idles professed their admiration for Williamson himself.
This idea that I cant speak out against austerity or food banks – that I cant think one of the richest economies in the world having f asterisk asterisk asterisk ing food banks is wrong – I cant say that because Im fortunate enough to be able to feed my child? What the f asterisk asterisk asterisk is wrong with the guy? spits Talbot.
How does it feel, I ask, that the criticism is coming from someone he once called a hero?
F asterisk asterisk asterisk ing awful, he says, with raw honesty. He attacked me personally, and suddenly everyone was questioning my authenticity. But I was more annoyed by my own reaction: like, why the f asterisk asterisk asterisk am I letting someone who doesnt know me affect me?
So, yeah, hes not a hero anymore.
Its the first night of the new Idles tour. Were backstage at the Sheffield Leadmill, talking in the bands dressing room ahead of their biggest tour to date – which includes three nights at Londons Electric Ballroom from Thursday.
Only a few minutes earlier we were talking about nappies. Ill change them all day long, mate, Talbot says. Smile on my face doing it.
Just three weeks ago, he and wife Beth welcomed daughter Frieda Rae to the world. Her birth came two years after the couples first child, Agatha, was stillborn – a tragedy agonisingly documented on June, the eviscerating stand out song of last years critically adored, top five album, Joy as an Act of Resistance.
Agathas heart rate dropped three times, remembers Talbot today. They transported her to hospital but she died en route. And the same thing happened this time, Friedas heart rate went. It was the most terrifying f asterisk asterisk asterisk ing moment of my life: how can this be happening again? But we were already in hospital, and they got her out. It was magic.
He pauses with apparent astonishment. And now we get to be parents, he says. What a privilege. I strap her to me every morning and get on with housework. What a f asterisk asterisk asterisk ing thing.
It is somehow strange, two hours later, to reconcile this image of domesticity with the 34 year old snarling and stalking the Leadmill stage, a physical embodiment of his bands songs: wiry, ferocious, ever so slightly threatening.
But then Idles – thats Talbot as well as guitarists Mark Bowen and Lee Kiernan, bassist Adam Devonshire and drummer Jon Beavis – are nothing if not about contradictory.
The Bristol bands two albums – Joy… and 2017s magnificent debut Brutalism – juxtapose pummelling post punk aural violence with lyrics celebrating empathy, tolerance and inclusivity. Iron snowflakes, is how The Independent previously described them.
Being compassionate doesnt mean you have to be a punch bag, nods Talbot when I mention this. Our aim is to start conversations – political and personal – where everyone can feel safe to join in and be vulnerable and express an opinion. Its just we do that with big slabs of violent music.
As a group, theyre soft spoken, self deprecating – and, for the first time while on the road, sober. When they went on tour last year, Talbot says, it was a three month bender – but I dont want to numb these experiences anymore, I dont want them blurry. This time around the mantra is healthy eating, exercise and mindfulness. The rider contains spinach and electrolyte infused water. Bowen arrives wearing shorts. Hes just been lifting weights. Its all very millennial.
Is there a chance, I venture, that, minus the booze, their shows – chaotic affairs treading a fine line between reaching for righteous greatness and collapsing under their own heaving fury – might lose their edge? That they might, somehow, become more predictable?
The exact opposite, says Bowen, also 34. So much with alcohol is about losing your inhibitions but, trust me, you lose them anyway when you have a room full of people singing your songs.
Talbot considers this: Im not sure were good enough to be predictable anyway, he says. Things can always go wrong.
Thats the other thing about Idles, as it goes. If mostly they appear entirely confident in their own abilities – Joy is a f asterisk asterisk asterisk ing great album, says Talbot at one point – they simultaneously show signs of surprise at their success.
Perhaps thats because its been long coming. After forming in Bristol in 2009 – already university graduates – they spent almost a decade honing their sound while holding down full time jobs before the rush of plaudits followed last years sophomore record.
Among the more surreal moments since, they say, has been finding out theyd reached number five in the album charts, getting nominated for best breakthrough act at the Brit Awards and appearing on Later... with Jools Holland. He said, Its really nice to have your sort of music on the show, says Bowen, a qualified NHS dentist, who used to practise. We didnt speak much. A producer told us he turns up, does the show and then tries to get off home before the end credits roll.
What sets Idles apart for many fans is their fearlessness – and fury – around issues of social justice. In song, they take on all comers: abrasive in their empathy, confrontational in their compassion.
Tonight, their 80 minute set list dispatches austerity Divide and Conquer , anti immigration rhetoric Danny Nedelko , and small town frustrations Never Fight a Man with a Perm . I put homophobes in coffins, barks Talbot on highlight Colossus.
These are things which, as a band, we discuss and were interested in, so we put them in the music, the singer shrugs. Were not preaching to people. Im not saying they should believe what I believe. But racism, homophobia, austerity – were f asterisk asterisk asterisk ing musicians, artists, we should be at the forefront of confronting those things. Otherwise, whats the point?
I ask about the song Samaritans and its growled chorus: Im a real boy, boy, and I cry.
Its about it being OK to grieve and to show emotion, says Talbot. It takes strength to do that.
Brexit, too, is another issue they refuse to shy away from. Its dire, says Bowen, who is originally from Northern Ireland, although he doesnt bring up the dreaded backstop. The sense of turmoil thats been created – the only people who win when that happens are extremists. Which is whats happening. Brexit has been a gift to the far right.
As the clock ticks on towards stage time, I ask about the future. After this tour, theyll take most of the year off to be with their families. Then, its on to the third album. Its already largely written with a title and artwork, and is scheduled for a 2020 release.
Were moving things on, says Talbot. But it will still be filled with compassion because thats who we are. It might seem pious but our way of dealing with the world is trying to make something positive, and thats not ever going to change.
Joy as an Act of Resistance by Idles is out now. They are on tour in the UK from 4 April
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