Idlewild blast home to celebrate 25 years in epic style.
A year later than planned due to the darned c-word, Idlewild proudly grace the stage of Edinburgh’s Usher Hall for their epic 25th anniversary homecoming gig. No support act tonight, instead the special guests are former band members, with an emphasis on those brandishing a bass.
Frontman Roddy Woomble looks euphoric as he ambles onto to the stage once the rest of tonight’s eight-piece ensemble take up their spots. Sporting a bit of the old geography teacher chic, with chinos, jacket and brogues, he saunters about, hands deeply rooted in his pockets as he inspects the musicians like he’s about to award them marks out of ten. His focus then shifts to the audience, eyes swooping up to the circle as he drinks in the atmosphere, and the crowd who has brought Idlewild to this moment.
Dream Variations, lead single from 2019’s Interview Music, opens the show, its fuzzy bass line giving way to a chiming hook and melodic harmonies. Between vocals, Woomble wanders the stage, nodding and contemplating, before drifting woozily into an ambient trance as he ponders why dreams have to be so cruel. Next up is the formidable Roseability, from 2000’s lauded 100 Broken Windows, the delighted audience chanting ‘I know that that’s not enough now’, taking them back to a time when Idlewild had brushed off the initial angst of youth but still had the edge which age and experience inevitably crushes. Soaring to its full glory, the luminous You Held the World In Your Arms, follows, from 2002’s The Remote Part, Idlewild’s most commercially successful album.
The band appear to be enjoying every minute as they smash through their hits with something for every taste, from their frenzied punk beginnings to more recent euphonious incarnations. They’re clearly chuffed to have made it this far in their careers, with songs dedicated to their longstanding manager, Bruce Craigie, and trusty crew, many of whom have also been with them since the start.
Five songs in and former guitarist Jeremy Mills takes to the stage for the divinely despondent Little Discourage, playing alongside long-term guitarists Rod Jones and Allan Stewart for the first time since 2000. He’s back again later for These Wooden Ideas, Woomble not lacking conviction as he belts out another classic from 100 Broken Windows.
The first of the former bassists to take the stage and give current recruit, Andrew Mitchell, a beer break is Gareth Russell who joined in 2006, shortly followed by Bob Fairfoull, who left in 2002. A triumphant rendition of 1998’s Satan Polaroid displays the shameless chemistry between Fairfoull and Stewart, as they almost head butt each between horizontal hip thrusts. Next off the bass bus is Gavin Fox who was the missing link between Fairfoull and Russell until 2006, just in case you’re wondering. During Love Steals Us From Loneliness, his bass is slung so low, his silhouette resembles a pissed-off, phone-hunched teen. Meanwhile poor Mitchell doesn’t know if he’s coming or going, but what the heck, nip out for a poke of chips or catch a movie while you’ve got the time. As the bassists come and go, even Woomble stops introducing them, possibly taking the opportunity to consider his staff retention issues instead. But what a ball these guys are having, truly awesome entertainment! And if I’ve missed any bassists or got their details out of sync, apologies…but really, even Gertrude Stein may have said ‘that’s enough’ by this point. And perhaps that ‘a bassist is a bassist is a bassist is a bassist’.
After the exhilarating Modern Way of Letting Go, the beguiling American English builds as the audience sing in awe, marking the end of the set.
The first of two encores sees Fairfoull back on stage for the duration. The five number set starts off with a burst of old ’90s/early ’00s belters such as 4 People Do Good, Captain, and Listen to What You’ve Got. The guys just seem so relaxed and unrestrained, it’s hard to believe it’s been so long since they’ve all played together. Even Woomble shakes off his jacket, though he still has those chino pockets to keep his hands warm. Of course, it’s the old punky numbers that evoke the most energy in the crowd, so things liven up quite a bit and during Captain I sense the stirrings of a possible mosh attack. But alas, it’s not to be. The tempo is finally lowered with the introspective In the Remote Part/Scottish Fiction, complete with stoic musings from Edwin Morgan.
For the second encore, Fox is back on, bass trailing the ground, and after a blistering (I Am) What I am Not, Fairfoull switches to guitar as they head straight back to their beginnings for the last track of the night with a ferocious attack of A Film For The Future, a choir of disembodied chord progressions blazing through the ornate walls of the Usher Hall.
I think there are around twelve folk on stage by the last number, with a look of jubilation on each and every one of their faces. It kind of feels like we’re gatecrashing a private party, with members of the crew filming on their phones and just loitering about, soaking it all up. What a wonderful celebration of everything Idlewild. As the stage fills and the auditorium begins to empty, l wonder if another bus-load of bassists are freezing their calloused fingers off outside, getting their covid passports approved…
Words: Shirley Mack @musingsbymarie
Pictures: Calum Mackintosh @ayecandyphotography