Love/Hate

I've been rather busy lately, hence the lack of updates here. While looking through some files on my old laptop, I found this wee article from a year or so ago. I thought it tied in nicely with the review further down this page.


I’ve been trying to avoid the return of Idlewild in much the same way as one would avoid a modern day outbreak of bubonic plague or a horrifically contagious, disfiguring illness. They have much in common when you think about it. Simple avoidance and blind denial worked at first, but it’s impossible to avoid contamination and Roddy Woomble now faces me from every direction, and I believe is currently crawling under my skin.

I can’t deny that I’ve heard the new record, I can’t deny that it was my own choice to listen to it, and I can’t deny that it did have some redeeming qualities. As a whole I can’t decide what I think of it, I just feel that it’s important to keep reminding myself that somewhere along the line, either Roderick Woomble or I appear to have suffered serious head injury.

Idlewild were one of the big loves of my life. I mean, who needs boys when you have bands, right? They were one of those bands that you could so easily let yourself fall totally and completely in love with. Many nights were spent alone on my bedroom floor listening to Hope is Important in the dark, staring at Roddy’s gap-toothed grin peering from the cover of Melody Maker and wishing I was the girlfriend looking through the dirty window on the cover of Captain. Everything about them was so furious and passionate, from Roddy falling around on stage wearing only one shoe to Bob’s constant sarcastic wit. I would’ve sold them my own soul. Hell, I would’ve given it to them for free.

I was in Virgin megastore on Princes Street when I heard Bob had left the band. Within days he was back in Edinburgh, stumbling along the street alone in a drunken stupor, can of Stella in hand. It’s when the reality sets in that you fall out of love the hardest.

My dearest Roddy, a few years ago I wanted to be your wife and darn your socks in our Highland croft, while you wrote songs about dreams to sing to lonely children. Then you changed and I found that I could no longer love you like I used to, so I left you to drown in your own arrogance. Please promote your album quietly. Love always, Elizabeth.

As far as Idlewild are concerned, I’m going to continue to put my fingers in my ears and yell “la la la la la”. You may notice me doing this at Rock City in April.