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 Always more than a punk band, Idles have continued their rock evolution, now resolved to "discard the lure of generational nihilism for a more benevolent and unifying force: love." This doesn't mean their music has gone soft. Singer Joe Talbot, guitarist Mark Bowen, bassist Adam Devonshire, drummer John Beavis, and guitarist Lee Kiernan have learned to vary the textures and tempos and write with the wisdom that inevitably comes with age and experience. In "Gift Horse" ripsaw guitar and aggressive vocals roar over a pounding tempo.  Talbot forcefully delivers his gospel: "My baby she so great/ I wake up grateful every day/ My baby is beautiful/ All is love and love is all," before a final snarl of "Fuck the king/ He ain't the king/ She's the king." "Dancer" opens with a grand flourish of violins before jumpy, bass-led dance floor filler allows Talbot to paint a picture of himself: "Shoulders back/ Chest out/ I'm poised/ Like a god damn ape," reveling in the sexual energy and rhyming "sweat" with "pirouette" along the way.  James Murphy and Nancy Whang of LCD Soundsystem sing "Collide us while we work it out" as Talbot shouts "Hold the phone/ Hip to hip/ Cheek to cheek." It's an inspired fusion. Set to an edgy, inconsolable rhythm, "Grace" returns Talbot to Tangk's emotional north star, singing "No god/ No king/ I said love is the thing" which eventually modulates its way to an abrupt end. That's followed by the rocking guitar squall of "Hall & Oates" where a quiet break features Talbot— always more of a singer than a pure howler—eloquently vocalizing, before a screech of feedback leads to another sudden finish. Opening with cymbals, guitar distortion and a resonant bass line, "Gratitude" eventually revs up with vehemence, but generally lacks the anger and abandon of the past. After brooding "More old bloody murder from/ A bastard's old cake hole/ Rip up cuticles/ And moron's wistful/ And acid to wash my soul," Talbot reveals with urgency, "I'm soft to the core …. Hold my hands up/ And thank you/ Gratitude/ Hold my hands up."  The moody vocal dirge "Monolith'' closes out the album with an unexpected saxophone solo. Tangk is raw mastery and convincing finesse from these self-described truth-seekers who continue to brilliantly refine their pursuit of what they call "the grim persistence of joy and hope and love and wonder as long as that's what anyone needs to survive." © Robert Baird/Qobuz