IDLES, Alexandra Palace, London

When IDLES turned up on Later… with Jools Holland in the autumn of 2018 to smash out pro-immigration anthem ‘Danny Nedelko’ and ‘Samaritans’ - a fiery tirade against toxic masculinity - there was the sense that these five big-hearted Bristolian punks were infiltrating from the inside. In amongst the polite clapping of the famous studio, here was a band on the cusp of absolute chaos - stomping around in a scrum of sweat and hair, hopping onto Jools’ legendary piano for an impromptu tinkle and generally behaving in a way that would make Gladys from Chipping Norton splutter into her mug of herbal tea. But of course, the punchline was that under the noise and the show, IDLES have always been saying something more direct and vital than anyone; on the outside, they may be on the brink of a wonderful shambles, but on the inside they’ve wholly got their shit together.

Tonight, as they round off not only a glorious 2019, but a glorious 24 months and counting - a run that’s seen them go from exciting newcomers to a band that stand as an emblem for something much larger than themselves - there’s the same sense. London’s Alexandra Palace is, much like the Beeb, a British icon. It’s a place where a pre-gig posh hotdog and a craft beer will set you back a solid 15 quid and where, at varying times of the year, you can go ice skating or to a wedding fair. So to see it heaving (and honestly, we’ve never seen the venue quite as busy as this) with 10,000 people yelling every word to a catalogue filled with songs about humanity, equality, loving your neighbours and all the other good shit feels like an act of solidarity. The fact that all 10,000 of tonight’s tickets got snapped up in less than 24 hours only proves how much people care. That the show falls less than a week before the most defining General Election of our time only makes the atmosphere even more charged.

It’s a timeline that, of course, has not escaped IDLES’ pink-haired mouthpiece Joe Talbot. “Get low,” he encourages the crowd during an early outing of ‘I’m Scum’. “Get lower than the Tory manifesto”. At varying points throughout the set he pleads with the crowd to vote Labour; at others, he precedes tracks with rallying cries about the importance of the NHS and other pillars of our community currently under threat. Even when he’s separating the crowd during a riotous ‘Love Song’, he’s encouraging people to reunite with “beautiful hugs”.