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Review Not that they can be bothered with any of that tricksy ‘straddling genres’ business: this is, generally, straightforward guitar rock with tinges of country and folk drawn from Roddy Woomble’s sabbatical in New York as a folkie. Feet planted firmly back in Scotland, they still brazenly echo the tics and riffs of REM, Pearl Jam and Springsteen in his plodding, air-punching phase, but it’s the details – and Woomble’s laidback, wry lyricism – which reveal a more intriguing, devil-may-care twitchiness.
Opener Younger Than America is as unthreatening as The Replacements or The Jayhawks, but single Readers & Writers suddenly charges in with a belligerent, infectious, horn-based motif that tilts at the lofty heights of Dexys Midnight Runners. After one or two fillers, the title track – nothing to do with Dylan, they claim – breaks into ‘ironic’ squealing guitars which revel in competing with Television or Crazy Horse. Like the frequent falsetto “la-la-la”s and big choruses, it’s hard to resist. Woomble is still a more alert wordsmith than most of his peer group: he’s stopped straining to mimic his idols and even chucks in a leavening joke now and again.
Overall, they’ve loosened up, discovered fun. That’s a strategy which can lead to self-indulgence or downright calamity. In Idlewild’s case, it means a band notoriously straitjacketed by self-consciousness in the past has elected to join the spirit of the party, to take off their specs and have a bit of a romp. The net result is that they, and hence we, can breathe and stop worrying. A kind of lift-off, at last. --Chris Roberts
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