Album reviews: Idles' refreshing reboot in Crawlers and Damon Albarn surprises with funk
In his new album, Damon Albarn is about as far from Blur or Gorillaz as is imaginable, while Idles have embraced something vaguely adjacent to subtlety in Crawler
★★★★☆
Few things are quite so dreary as a preachy punk band and with last year’s message-heavy Ultra Mono it seemed Idles had painted themselves into a placard-waving corner. The British-Irish rock quintet have, however, rebooted in agreeably clamorous fashion on fourth album, Crawler.
The switch-up is most discernible in the lyrics of frontman Joe Talbot. Rather than banging about British politics, he instead delves into the dark clay of his own tragedy-struck life. He talks about his days of flagrant drug use (The Wheel, Car Crash) and about coming to terms with the death of his mother (Crawl!).
The changes extend to the band’s sound, too. Previously, Idles have tended towards a one-note punk assault. Now they’ve embraced something vaguely adjacent to subtlety, with opener MTT 420 RR referencing industrial music and synth pop and When The Lights Come On and the New Sensation deploying indie guitars and clattering krautrock percussion. It’s a refreshing reinvention from a group previously in danger of careening into self parody.
★★★★☆
Received wisdom tells us there are two Damon Albarns. The cheeky chappy hit-whisperer of Parklike and Gorillaz. And the thoughtful piano-tinkler best known for Blur weepies such as This Is A Low and his 2014 stand-alone LP, Everyday Robots. And yet Albarn (53) has a third incarnation of zany jazz experimentalist, and there’s lots of that persona on his new solo record.
He leads his band into a funk reverie on Combustion while on Darkness To Light and Giraffe Trumpet Sea soulful brass is combined with blitzing pianos.It’s quite surprising – especially on a record framed as a tribute to Albarn’s sometime home of Iceland.
Far more on-message is the title track – a huge, glittering iceberg of a power ballad that drifts moodily through the mist. On Esja, meanwhile, Albarn ascends to a meditative plateau, with a slab of thoughtful electronica that suggests Aphex Twin wandering through the permafrost. It’s stark and beautiful – and about as far from Blur or Gorillaz as is imaginable.
