Ten years ago, the vest-topped, baseball-capped boys (and girls, in some cases) who roam the halls of Manchester's colossal Student's Union were probably still in nappies, cradling milk from their mother's bosoms, more than content that the only music in their lives was the lullaby sung lovingly to them every night by their doting parents to send them to sleep. It's understandable, then, that these acne-ridden, dour-faced individuals, here tonight to punch, cartwheel and stage-dive their way through 70 minutes of patently unlistenable 'metalcore' garbage courtesy of the abysmal Asking Alexandria, have never even heard of the band playing in the upstairs room, never mind the album they're here to recreate. When Idlewild released '100 Broken Windows' on 9 May 2000, these whippersnappers barely had control of their bowel movements, let alone the ability to appreciate art, so their ignorance is somewhat forgivable.
What is not forgivable, however, is that this collective of consummate professionals who, between them, seem to be physically incapable of producing a bad record, can only attract the attention of 600 of Manchester's finest patrons. It isn't a bad number, sure, and many would kill for such ticket sales, but when you've produced the greatest British record of the last decade, and you're playing it in its entirety, you deserve a little more attention. And that's no meaningless hyperbole either. In ten years, no other record produced in these hallowed Isles has had the same immediacy, or provided such a well-rounded listen, marrying intense, visceral rock thrills with thought-provoking and, at times, intriguingly cryptic lyricism. '100 Broken Windows' is a fascinating album, a work of contemporary art that grabs you by the scruff of the neck and refuses to let go, a behemoth that demands your undivided attention and gets it, every single time.
Live, it is every bit as captivating, effortless in its ability to induce uncontrollable mayhem. The opening bars of a spiky, restless 'Little Discourage' send this fandom-orientated crowd hurtling into one another, with all thoughts of personal safety (and hygiene) tossed to the wayside... and it just doesn't stop. One by one, every delectable classic is met with the same delirium, every precious moment is savored. 'I Don't Have the Map' raises the roof, 'Listen To What You've Got' sends bodies flying every which way and there's so much excitement surrounding a hugely energetic 'Roseability' that Manchester Academy 2 threatens to break the world record for biggest simultaneous orgasm. That Idlewild confess to not having had the time to practice speaks volumes about both the unparalleled genius of this record and the depth of skill within the band; tracks like the exuberant 'These Wooden Ideas' and the quietly beautiful 'The Bronze Medal' feel like long lost friends, sweeping us into their loving arms in an instant and reminding us why we fell head over heels for them in the first place.
Not that the 'wild rest on their laurels either. The indestructible Rod Jones, fresh from nursing a broken collarbone, stalks the stage, carelessly attacking his many, many guitars and looking every bit like the coolest fucker in the world. Allan Stewart makes a fine second-in-command, following Rod's lead, sweat dripping from every pore, and Roddy Woomble, while a little more refined than ten years ago, still screams with the best of 'em, making the climax to 'Rusty' one of the most visceral things you'll see all year. And the fun doesn't end at '100', oh no. Unlike many of their peers, Idlewild know their entire back catalogue and they aren't afraid to show it: check out eons-old B-side 'Meet Me at the Harbour', dusted down and polished up, sandwiched in-between a smattering of more familiar material - 'A Modern Way of Letting Go', 'American English' - and sounding colossal. It's just one delicious part of a six song encore to die for, culminating in a four-to-the-floor punk blast through 'Everyone Says You're So Fragile', 'I'm A Message' and the monstrous 'Captain', which, after thirteen years, is still the perfect incomprehensible whirlwind of noise and aggression on which to close any set.
The kids who shuffle out of the Asking Alexandria show may have more bruises and less clothing to show for their efforts but in ten years time, will they be revisiting the same venue for the anniversary tour? Will they hell. These guys have a shelf life of about two minutes; Idlewild's music endures. The numbers may not be what they deserve, but tonight, Woomble and co prove, one more time with feeling, that they are the most unforgivably underrated and all-round bloody brilliant band that we have. You owe it to yourself to see this show; quit your day job, eBay your granny... it's the best ninety minutes you'll ever have.
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