IDLES' 10 Best Songs

Out of the few key songwriting formulas IDLES' return to time after time, the 'verses that build tension with little more than a driving bass line and compressed drums that lead to blistering punk choruses' one is surely tried and true. And while "1049 Gotho" doesn't exactly revolutionize the tactic, it might just be one of their best executions of it throughout their entire catalog. Boasting a particularly unhinged vocal performance from Joe Talbot and a "yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah" refrain, "1049" remains an early essential that's as fun to mosh to as it is to snarl along to. — J. Krueger

Crawler marked a massive shift in emphasis from IDLES. They were still intent on bringing powder kegs of energy and direct lyrical messages, but rather than serve up the IDLES experience with an in-your-face, Ultra Mono-style level up, they darkened their sound and muddied up the waters. "Crawl!," the album's rollicking title track, lives solely in this grey area. The track's satisfying aspects — the syncopated guitars, the restless drumming, Talbot howling "I'm alright!" — are offset with loads of dynamic space and atmosphere, to the point where the mix in the chorus actually sounds off. It highlights the type of manic, destructive energy that Talbot wrestled with throughout Crawler, sounding like a nightmare and a survival ode all at once. Also, it's tough to get Talbot muttering "I'm feeling magni-fucking-fique" out of your head once you've heard it. — P. Ragusa

Anyone who has seen IDLES live knows that "Never Fight a Man with a Perm" pops off like no other song in their discography. Beyond just bringing energy, there're a myriad of elements to treasure in "Perm": The hair-raising siren call of a lead guitar line, the pounding, momentum-whipping drum beat from Beavis, the stop-start structure that serves as a blast of power in the chorus. Talbot is also on another level here, skewering the most toxic, abhorrent aesthetics and personality traits of a guy who looks "like a walking thyroid" (There are some all-timer lines, but "Even your haircut's violent" might be the best). Talbot spares no detail, but walks the fascinating line between contempt for these men and the establishments and entertainment in which they root their identities. — P. Ragusa

Even half of a decade after its release, "Colossus" has remained an IDLES live staple for a reason. Not only is it an absolutely killer fucking number, but it's a rare slow burn in their otherwise amped-up discography. It's an aspect they lean into, often dropping the tempo of the first leg of the song even further live. As a result of the relative restraint, the ultimate explosion is all the more rewarding. Rather than the loud-quite-loud, Pixies-esque dynamic of many of their other cuts, "Colossus" is a nearly 6-minute crescendo that holds off on its climax until the absolute last second. It's their "Exit Music (For a Film)" or, to relate it to their newfound buddies LCD Soundsystem, their "Dance Yrself Clean."  J. Krueger

IDLES take us to an alternate reality in which they are mid-'60s balladeers on "The Beachland Ballroom," a stirring standout from Crawler. The waltzing arpeggio and drummer Jon Beavis' steady trot has the patience of snowfall, gathering up enough charged momentum to last for the rest of the album. Talbot towers over his band, the pain of recovery amplified as he howls "Damage! Damage! Damage!" The band's flourishing partnership with producer Kenny Beats is also well on display here, allowing for a more spacious presentation of IDLES' thorny sonics. The band called this track "the most important song on the album," and its gravity is undeniable, working towards a more organic and elevated catharsis instead of their usual explosiveness. It's one of the most jarring and memorable moments in their discography. — P. Ragusa

If "Never Fight a Man with a Perm" provided a worst-case-scenario look at the aesthetics of toxic men, "Samaritans" is IDLES' investigation into how they came to be. It would be easy to criticize IDLES for attempting to put the struggles of an entire gender in more digestible and simplified package, but what they end up achieving on "Samaritans" is pretty astonishing. Talbot barks out orders like military commander as he lists out traits of the unattainable "ideal man" — very much like America Ferrera's Barbie monologue but for dudes — and eventually digs deeper, likening masculinity to an inherited disease that weakens as it hides behind a mask of strength. "This is why you never see your father cry," sings Talbot, a succinct and profound way to sum up generations of repressed pain that gets hammered into young, impressionable boys. Then, to make "Samaritans" even sweeter, Talbot bellows, "I kissed a boy and I liked it!" — a moment of lighthearted joy, casting a hopeful shadow over a song with dark implications. — P. Ragusa

"Sexual violence doesn't begin and end with rape/ It starts in our books behind our school gates." No one really asked for a group of punk-playing dudes to point out systemic misogyny, but the band's earnest, furious attempt is still poignant nearly 10 years later. They probably wouldn't admit it, but "Mother"'s target audience is, in fact, other men; the double entendre chorus of "Mother fucker" seethes at both men who commit sexual violence against women as well as the patriarchal system that forces (often single) mothers to work "17 hours, seven days a week." Even with so much power and fury dominating the song, Mark Bowen and Lee Kiernan's guitars burn with brightness, offering a satisfying resolve within an expression of profound disappointment.

"Men are afraid that women will laugh at them, women are afraid men will kill them" — a simple and oft-repeated phrase attributed to Margaret Atwood that Talbot paraphrases in the bridge. Sometimes, framing violence in simple terms is the best way to show a lapse in empathy. — P. Ragusa

IDLES are arguably at their best when they embrace their position as a proudly anti-fascist band. Many artists are against what they are against, but those groups often lack the kind of visceral poise and communal sentiment that IDLES have in spades. Atop all their anti-fascist anthems is "Danny Nedelko," an ode to immigrants and one of the most beaming, heartwarming songs in their catalogue. Whether they're naming national heroes like Freddie Mercury and Malala or the everyday immigrants that add culture and community to our lives, "Danny Nedelko" is a bombastic celebration of the people who sacrifice everything to make a better life for themselves and their families. To reject whom Talbot calls our "blood brothers," on a national level and a personal one, is a tragedy. They argue that these figures are what make up a national identity, and to be xenophobic towards them is a slippery slope of hatred and a waste of time. They urge us to put differences aside and embrace each other, no matter where our names come from. We're all made the same anyways: bones, blood, flesh, and most of all, love. — P. Ragusa