Live Report: IDLES rile up 3Olympia with blazing jubilance

It’s one of the coldest nights of the year in Dublin – a whooping 2°C that dries up the lips and bites the skin. Yet, within the walls of the 3Olympia Theatre, as Bristol punk-rockers IDLES take the stage, the air feels like a deliciously captivating hellfire.

IDLES at 3Olympia Theatre. Copyright: Jason Doherty

With how furiously heated IDLES are known to be, the gig opens up relatively minimalistically, with drummer Jon Beavis alone on stage – although his repetitive thumps of the bass drum, and subsequent gradual entrances of the rest of the musicians, don’t skip out on the intensity, the strangely ominous opening track ‘IDEA 01’ grabbing you by the throat and refusing to let go.

The band’s signature rage isn’t far, though, if the transition of red, flickering lights to ‘Colossus’ is anything to go by. With the ferocity of its lyrics, and the explosiveness of the band’s performances, the song is lined with inexorable violence - and as Joe Talbot shouts out “forgive me father for I have sinned,” one thing is clear: this gig is about to be a religious experience.

IDLES at 3Olympia Theatre. Copyright: Jason Doherty

IDLES is the kind of punk band whose heaviness trickles down from their political themes, and not the other way around – like gritty guitars, raucous drum lines and shouted vocals were a part of their value system all along. In fact, during the rare pauses of this hyperactive, breathless set, Talbot alternates between a throat-breaking chant of “Viva Palestina” and a riled-up “fuck the police!” that the audience is more than happy to pick up.

“How could you not be angry?” the band seems to ask over and over again, like on the harshly powerful ‘Mother’ – “men are scared women will laugh in their face, whereas women are scared it’s their lives men will take,” the track paraphrases Margaret Atwood’s iconic quote in a riotously cathartic criticism of toxic masculinity, and the capitalist system that forces mothers to work "17 hours, seven days a week."

IDLES at 3Olympia Theatre. Copyright: Jason Doherty

But IDLES are also capable of channelling their deep anger into love and care for themselves and others, out of spite for a world that refuses to do so, as Talbot shouts out on the anthemic ‘Scum’. “I wrote this song when I was very angry,” the singer introduces the track. “We started this band because we wanted to start something much bigger than ourselves,” he continues, “and we fucking found it: that is love.”

Their riotousness is incredibly contagious, as the never ending mosh pit that the set inspires from the audience showcases. With how appropriately loud the music is, it’s hard not to find yourself relentlessly stomping your feet and relating to Talbot when he sings out “I can feel my eyes vibrate” on ‘CAR CRASH’.

IDLES at 3Olympia Theatre. Copyright: Jason Doherty

More than the anger, the loudness and the exceptional talent pouring out of the musicians, IDLES’ live performance is unforgettable because of how relentlessly fun it is, guitarists Lee Kiernan and Mark Bowen jumping around the stage and into the crowd at any occasion, and standing on audience members’ shoulders as they scratch their strings.

This commitment to treating their gig like a party adds a new layer of catharsis to the whole set – IDLES are not only letting out their rage, but grinning in the face of the fire, hammering in the unforgettable title of their second studio album, and, arguably, the thesis statement behind their whole discography: Joy As An Act of Resistance.

IDLES at 3Olympia Theatre. Copyright: Jason Doherty

The show ends without the traditional encore, as if it is physically impossible for the band to leave the stage and let the tension drop – instead, Talbot offers a hilariously unruly a cappella version of ‘All I Want For Christmas’, before jumping straight into ‘Rottweiler’.

IDLES at 3Olympia Theatre. Copyright: Jason Doherty

Complete with fury-filled bass lines from Adam Devonshire, shouted-out lyrics and never-ending hefty drum solos, the closing track feels like a rip-roaring release, putting a boisterous end to a gig that leaves your ears ringing and your heart pounding in your chest.