“I wrote a love song ‘Cause you’re so loveable I carried a watermelon I wanna be vulnerable”
You see how it gets? You start out with something simple and heartfelt and beautiful. Through repetition and reuse the fragile details are removed. The soft delicate intricacies of a beautiful beginning are smoothed over by routine. If you tell the same story over and over you start to skip the nuances. If you use the same mug for your coffee every morning the printed skyline of New York will fade with repeated runs through the dishwasher. What was once a cherished memento of a beautiful honeymoon is now plain white. A ceramic finish with the odd crack and a slight click in the handle. You keep it though. Because it’s your mug. Your New York Honeymoon mug.
Important dates, birthdays, anniversaries, etc. They become a bit routine too. How many bracelets, bottles of perfume and Spa days does a person really need to know you are their one and they are your one? Two parts of one whole. Poetry is for the singles. It’s all about the wooing. When you’ve established the household brand of detergent together and filed each others tax returns there is no need for flowery metaphor or new ways of saying ‘I’m not going anywhere else, besides all our stuff is here’.
“I fucking love you, I really love you, Look at the card I bought, It says “I love you””
Idles have seldom been accused of being too subtle. In many ways Love Song is the most A typical of all Idles songs. It’s a house brick thrown through the window of a persons uninterrupted listening. The chorus is like a lost but well meaning drunken spouse bellowing from the garage forecourt greetings card rack that it’s the thought that counts. Joe Talbot does it in such a charming way though. You can’t stay mad at Joe. He means it. He fucking loves you!
“You give me power, you give me power, you’re like a gun or a knife… be my wife”
I’ve posted many a track from Idles rather magnificent second full album Joy As An Act Of Resistance before. However, grant me a further indulgence. The dust has somewhat settled on Idles mania due to the Lock-down stifling reactions to Ultramono without a phosphorous flair of a live show to support the songs. With that and seeing as the last couple of Love Song posts have gone from the timeless beauty of The Cure to the roustabout metaphorics of The Damned it seemed only fitting to cap off the trilogy with some Brutalist romancing. Invoking slightly elder indie Bloc Party with the “This Modern Love” bit is about the only diversion in the entire tune. This is just a love note chiseled from a breeze block and left on the patio for when you open the curtains tomorrow morning. Is this how love ends? Well not ends (I’m fine, Mrs ForTheDeaf is fine) but ends up? Sun bleached and reshaped by constant use as something so simple and understandable that allusion and illusion are surplus to requirement. Is it?
I’m not so sure. There’s still room for a little romance in the world. It just might involve routine devotion, or routine dishwasher emptying at least.