In the '80s, the Stone Roses and the Happy Mondays laid their drug-induced lyrics over danceable beats while the Smiths created jangly, literate pop. The '90s gave birth to the now-famous Oasis vs. Blur battles where the former's arrogant rock-and-roll attitude faced the latter's "you can take us home to your mother" charm.
Most recently, critics have pointed out similar contrasts between Radiohead's gloomy experimentation and Coldplay's sentimental, simple pop structures.
Every now and then, however, a Brit band comes along that doesn't quite fit into either category; a band that embraces British ideals but refuses to fit into any mold. The Who was such a band. Ride, Suede and the Manic Street Preachers also earned distinction by falling somewhere in between.
With its sophomore effort (and first U.S. release), "100 Broken Windows," Edinburgh's Idlewild proudly joins the ranks of Britpop misfits of the past. While their debut, "Hope is Important," caught the eye of British critics, Idlewild failed to gather widespread acclaim and was subsequently thought of as just another Scottish rock band.
With "100 Broken Windows," released in the U.K. in the summer of 2000, the group toured more heavily. Having built up a substantial fan base in their native land, and taking cue from recent Britpop bands who have had success with American mainstream audiences (Travis, Coldplay), Idlewild has also decided to tour behind the record in the U.S.
The album's first four tracks make up some of the most uncompromising British punk rock to surface in the past 20 years. Backed by a sound far more polished and focused than their debut, frontman Roddy Woomble has refined his Morrissey/Michael Stipe-esque vocal stylings. At times, the resemblance is downright eerie.
The album opens with "Little Discourage," featuring a catchy guitar riff throughout that explodes into the chorus much like the Pixies' finest moments.
Next we're given "I Don't Have the Map," where Idlewild manages to achieve the Stooges' sense of uncompromising punk melody. On "These Wooden Ideas," they produce quite possibly the closest thing to Emo that a British outfit has ever created. "Roseability" is definitely still Britpop in terms of production techniques, but between lines like "Don't be real, be postmodern" and casual mentions of Gertrude Stein, it begs the question, "Where's the heartbreak?"
Indeed, nowhere on this album is there even a trace of the pasty-faced, cockney-accented lads crying about the girl who walked out on them. You get the sense that Roddy and company would laugh in the face of the melodrama that has become so inherent to Britpop over the '90s; this record has punk rock written all over it.
Idlewild has made a very admirable effort in making a statement and, with the exception of the way in which tracks tend to blend together with repeated listens, has succeeded.