Idiot Glee - Paddywhack

So what have we got here? A ramshackle indiepop take on 50s American doo-wop? This should be an easy listen, all hair-slicked fingerclicks and horn-rimmed glasses, all rock-ola jukeboxes and strawberry milkshakes in tall glasses. And, yeah, on the shiny surface that’s kinda what we get here. The style immerses the record in a sense of permanence which is slap-in-the-face refreshing when so much around is disposable and ephemeral. It makes you want to keep listening, makes you want to find out what’s under the surface.

First though we find Mr Idiot Glee, and man he seems likeable. If I’m ever in schtuck, if the bad guys are ever after me, then I want Idiot Glee on my side. Make no mistake, we’d get our collective arse kicked and probably hard, but when you hear the feisty croon of “no one messes with my girl” you realise this dude won’t let you down. Now, I’m not his girl nor, erm, a girl at all but the principle still stands. James Friley, the one man band that is Idiot Glee would have my back. Whatever that means. He’s clearly a gentleman, someone with values that might sneerily be dismissed as old-fashioned but which actually just single him out as a stand-up guy.

But how to get Idiot Glee (I’ll call him ‘James’ when we’re friends, maybe even ‘Jim’) on my side? Going to have to buy into the world he inhabits for sure. But that’s okay, I’d have gone with M.Ward to his America, would have gone on his heartbroken lonely journey of truck stops, black coffee, apple pie and Route 66 kicks. That’s one slice of pure iconic America right? Idiot Glee uses modern technology via looping synths to take us on knowing time travel, takes us to the America of sweethearts at sweet-hearted proms, of pretty dresses, hoverboards, innocence and burger joints (modern technology? Time travel? 50s America? Someone should so make a movie about that). We’d wear cardigans, we’d go crazy for the Brylcreem and, oooh-eee-oooh, we’d feel just like Buddy Holly. But would we be happy in this golden age of America? Actually, listening to this record I’m thinking maybe not. You see the pastels first, but there are darker colours here. My new friend is so tense, so wrapped up in the idea of needing to be loved and to love. It might be true that no one messes with his girl, it’s fine to act the tough guy, and it’s brilliant that one lucky punch knocked Biff Tannen clean out, but things unravel way too quickly when it’s not working. It’s all very well to start ‘Let’s Go Down Together’ with a bright swagger that sounds like Mungo Jerry’s ‘In The Summertime’, but my man collapses after that. “Not in love, not in love” he at first muses, repeats it in quiet introspection and then again into spiralling despair before falling to his knees and crying “hold me now”. I’m here dude, I’ll give you a hug. It’s going to be fine.

The more time we spend together on this record though the more worried I get for him. If the tightly wound jarring backwards fairground organ intro of ‘Deep Descent’ didn’t make me think the guy’s got some demons then the Specials-esque menace of ‘Trouble At The Dancefloor’ is definitely enough motivation to pencil in a trip to the therapist. Maybe the two of us can’t help each other, maybe we need back up. There’s precious few souls in indiepop he’s going to find some common ground with though. Maybe the troubled troubadour Napoleon IIIrd could be a kindred spirit? There could be a connection there for sure. They both howl against a modern world which is baffling and kind of sickening, they both seem to suffer from displacement and loneliness. But, then, Idiot Glee’s anger is not so explicit, whereas Napoleon IIIrd wants action our man here seems almost beaten in weary despair at times. So, yeah, let’s cancel that meet-up, I’m not so sure they’d be good for each other.

Perhaps he does need me, and anyone else that will listen, anyone else that cares enough to try and figure him out. We’ll have his back, we’ll try and understand. He deserves that much because this record is a peculiar, charming treat worth spending time on, worth puzzling over, worth giving a bit of your heart to. And if we can’t figure him out then, hey, maybe we’ll just find him a girl.