A warm A/V welcome to guest blogger Kate Foster who just needed to spread the word on Idles:
I hadn’t felt as genuinely excited as I was to see Idles in
a very long time, some combo of the promise of seeing an excellent live show
and the thrill of the unfamiliar. I took the streetcar as opposed to the subway
which I'd never normally do, and this was my first time at Hard Luck Bar. It’s
hard to feel like a tourist in your own home town, but tonight I had it.
As I’m rocking up, I realize
guitarist Adam is standing out front hacking a dart and checking his phone,
along with the slew of fans lining the sidewalk doing the same. My immediate
fanboi reaction is to run over and tell him all about how great I think the
band is, but I quickly realize this is very clearly the opposite vibe of this
night. This band brings no bullshit and often conveys that they appreciate
their fans as much as we appreciate them, so keeping the symbiotic (and silent)
respect seemed key.
I get up into the venue which is already quite crowded, seeing as I opted to
show up around 15 minutes before set time. Again, I'm shocked as I take my
first glance to the stage and see Joe et al. getting their gear set
up, tuning, etc. It feels like forever since I've seen a band actually doing
the "grunt" work for their own shows. Considering their tour schedule
is back-to-back-to-back gigs, it clearly speaks to the character of Idles themselves
and their passion. Worth noting, when not a day goes by you don’t hear
about another band/pop star/DJ who has used their career to abuse women with
impunity.
Once I’ve saddled up beside the merch table and staked out a
spot for myself, Joe appears again holding his hands up and spread
out toward us, promising only ten more minutes to go. This update is met with
cheers, and again, it hits me how cool it is to see a band giving this much of
a shit about the crowd. They’re nowhere near behind schedule (if anything
they’re early) yet their urgency to deliver a killer show is evident before a
single note has even been struck.
As promised it’s suddenly showtime, they launch into
Heel/Heal which gets the crowd going in a hurry – bodies are thrashing around
in a quickly formed pit before the chorus hits. At this point I’m a few rows of
bodies back from the action, the crowd is easily 85% men it seems. I begin the
recurring debate of whether or not to stay put where I can dance freely or push
to the front where I can get in a good workout and likely lose a possession or
two. Telling myself my pit days are behind me, I’m thrilled when song two hits
and it’s Idles Chant and nothing up front looks like it’s slowing down anytime
soon. As I’m “WHOOOOOOAAA”-ing along I realize everyone around me is standing
dead still, seeming confused something is being played that isn’t on Brutalism.
Next up is Mother – which I had been highly anticipating if
only because I wanted to see how this song translates to fans – being mostly
men. I can’t think of a song in recent memory that confronts rape quite as
head-on as this. Well, I can, but there are never any dudes involved in the
making of these songs. Now, here’s a fivesome of cis-men singing about the
realities of sexual assault, reminding listeners that it is oh SO much more
than the horrid act of rape itself – something many, many men need daily
reminders of, apparently. So how does this confrontation go over with crowds of
people who have likely participated in rape culture to varying degrees their
entire lives? As the song is approaching the spoken word bridge (precisely the
thing that made me adore Idles in the first place), the two young men directly
in front of me turn to each other with smirks slowly spreading.
“Oh yeah, you gonna sing along with this part, eh!?” one
chides the other, they both laugh. As if these lyrics are a joke, and not the
reality of life for those of us not born with a dick. Rage is rising in me and
I try to lean in a little to hear what the rest of the conversation is (mostly
because I am dying to call them out at this point), but they’ve leaned into
each other closer, presumably as they discuss how hilarious rape is. This is
the moment my brain clicks into “fuck it all” mode and I shove past these men
and the slew of others to get myself right into the thick of things.
It’s a funny sort of immediate relief to feel myself lose
control over my movements and give into the ebb and flow of the pit, my body
aggressively yet slowly getting pushed around while I make sure to scream the
lyrics at the top of my lungs when it hits:
'WOMEN ARE SCARED IT’S THEIR LIVES MEN WILL TAKE'
I’m angry because despite the message of this song, of
everything happening in the world today, being so goddamn clear it still isn’t
understood. I digress.
The energy from both the band and crowd is massive and only
seems to grow and fuel each other as the night goes on. No one from the band
has spoken much at this point, but Joe is thanking us profusely in
between songs and commenting on how great the night is for them. At one point
he makes a statement regarding how important it is to him everyone has a good
time and is feeling OK, and as the band is starting to play the next track, he
directly asks if everyone is in fact OK, but the band more or less drowns him
out. I assume they’ll continue on full throttle, imagining the answer wasn’t
all that important to them anyway. I’m thrilled to find out I’m dead wrong – Joe insists,
stops the band from playing, and again begs the question to the crowd. His
inquiry is met with silence, and so he repeats, just to be sure, is anyone at
all NOT feeling safe right now being here? and as the silence continues, he
turns his back to motion to the rest of Idles to get the song going again. All
I can do is yell THANK-YOU! as loud as I can, hoping they realize how
incredibly important that moment was for me, and surely others.
Where I’ve ended up in the pit there are many more women
than expected, and despite the fact I’m alone at this gig, there is an
undeniable feeling of comfort. At certain points throughout the set, Joe is
graciously giving fans a hand either getting up or off of a crowd surf. He
encourages several kids to get up and go for it, offering a hand to many of us
in the front to take a turn. He even taps someone’s shoulder who has spent the
majority of the set bracing themselves against an amp with their head down, and
after a thumbs-up exchange to confirm they are OK, he’s back to business with
the song. Lead guitarist Mark has made several trips into the crowd too,
navigating himself to a spot to play and dance around a little surrounded by
fans before making his way back on stage. These interactions just keep proving
how fucking genuinely cool this band is.
They blaze through most tracks from Brutalism, tossing
in Queens, which Joe leads into by declaring “Fuck selfies!”. I’m
personally thrilled to hear 1049 Gotho which is introduced as being about
something horrible his friend suffered from greatly – depression. I can’t help
but wonder if this song is actually more autobiographical, but it really
doesn’t matter either way. Again, they are unapologetically diving into taboo
waters, driving home the realities of living with depression. I’m excited to
hear (personal) favourites like White Privilege, Faith in the City and Date
Night. They introduce a new song, titled simply, The Love Song, as one of their
final tracks which takes a minute to build up, but ends up getting us going
just as much as Benzocaine had. Slower song Divide & Conquer was tossed in
too, which I hadn’t imagined would be all that exciting to see live (despite
being an awesome track). But the way the band builds the intensity throughout
the song as Joe is pacing with it, finally getting the drop where he
smashes his outstretched arms down around him seeming larger than life, makes
this an excellent addition to the set list.
We get fair warning when they approach their final track,
which comes with the promise of “we don’t do encores, so this is it” to the
crowd’s disappointment. For me, this is yet another reason to add to my
ever-growing list of why Idles just might be the best band to come out of the
last decade. No bullshit. After the lights come up, I scan the floor in a
futile hunt for one of my tunnels that’s been pushed out of my ear by one of
the many bodies passing over head during the last hour. I remember being a teen
declaring there's no way I had a good time at a show if I didn't lose
something, after countless scarves, jackets and pieces of jewelry got sucked up
by dance floors and pits - and now here I am, wondering if maybe that still
rings true. After giving up on the tunnel, I make my way down to the street,
only to find Mark has beat me to it. He's shimmying his way up to a friend with
a cigarette dangling as she waits, hers already lit. My brain again flashes to
rushing up to him gushing, but I can only grin as I pass him, my clothes soaked
through with sweat now and freezing me to the core on this 2 degree
evening.
