He may not be purple-faced, screaming and wielding a mic as he stomps a stage, but Joe Talbot’s famous intensity shines through regardless – even over polite greetings at ten o’clock in the morning.

“Have you felt any sense of agoraphobia, going back into work, and being around lots of people again?” he asks me – taking the reins of the interview right off the bat, with a disarming sincerity.

There’s a guiding sense of honesty at the heart of everything Idles’ lead singer approaches, and it’s infectious. I tell him that the agoraphobic fears were definitely building over lockdown – but the gradual return to normal life has been a relief, more than anything.

“I’ve felt the same,” he agrees. “My disposition isn’t completely anxious, but I do have a tendency to feel anxiety. But I don’t drink now, or do drugs – so I’m not in many positions anymore where I’d feel super anxious. If I’m out with my friends, and I start to feel anxious, I figure out why. So if there’s just loads of people there who are shit-faced, and annoying, I’ll just leave.

“So I’m slowly getting back into normality now, and it’s not such a shock to the system.”

Of course, normality is relative – and as the frontman of one of the most buzzed-about bands in the UK, who are about to release their ecstatically-anticipated third album, Ultra Mono, Talbot’s sense of the word undoubtedly differs from the average punter. Even so, he describes his time spent during lockdown as “a huge enlightenment period, in realising just how lucky we are” – during which he got the opportunity to spend more time with his young daughter: “So, aside from the chaos, I’m feeling pretty positive,” he says.

Now, however, he’s approaching the album roll-out with an unwavering focus.

“If I’ve got a list of things to do, I find it very hard to concentrate until I’ve done everything on that list,” he resumes. “That’s why I’m one of those alcoholics that’s the last person out of the place – because I know that there’s at least two bottles of whiskey behind the bar that need to be drank before I leave the pub.”

The intensity of Talbot’s focus extends to Ultra Mono itself – which, following the success of 2017’s Brutalism and 2018’s Mercury Prize-nominated Joy As An Act Of Resistance, finds Idles at their most urgent, direct and unapologetically political.

“It’s our best album,” he asserts. “I understand that it’s not necessarily going to be as popular as Joy..., but it’s brilliant. It’s more of a statement than anything we’ve done before and it’s more concise – and the more concise you become, the more divisive you are.

“And our popularity is bigger, and people like to fucking stomp on that,” he adds, with a sigh. “So we ignore that shit!”

The accolades garnered by their previous two albums, and a standout set at Glastonbury, have indeed propelled Idles to international attention. But as even a cursory listen to Ultra Mono will prove, the band’s newfound mainstream success hasn’t subdued either their raucous sound or their central anti-hate message. If anything, it has intensified it.

“We’ve been very conscious of that,” Talbot admits. “That’s why we wanted to make an album that was holistically produced in a way that was more impactful than our other albums. To make a similar impact from a capacity of 200 people, to a capacity of 20,000 people, you need to have sound and lyrics in mind – in the same way you need to reshape and redefine the way you think about sound, and how you put your message out there.

“It’s like what Wagner did, when he considered the size of the room he was playing in, and realised that the orchestra all playing different things at the same time was creating noise – whereas if they all played the same thing at the same time, it created a huge ball of sound. So that’s what we did too. We tried to extract the noise of all of us playing different things at the same time, and instead tried to play more at the same time, or not play at all – in order for there to be less noise, but more volume and more impact to cut across bigger venues.”

Wagner’s not the only influence on the new album. Hip-hop also served as a crucial point of inspiration – with post-production contributions from Kenny Beats, who has helped to ignite a punk ethos among a new generation of American rappers through his work with the likes of Vince Staples, Denzel Curry and Rico Nasty.

“We have influences from all over,” Talbot notes. “Noise-rock. Pixies. Girl Band. Kanye West. Roman Lindau. Daft Punk. Otis Redding. We discuss what we love by playing it, so a lot of things that we really love come out through our music.

“But what we were really trying to emulate was the sound of momentary acceptance of the self, which is like a self-assurance, a self-awareness and a self-confidence, that’s whole and impactful. The sound of now, really – which I think we’ve achieved.

“Most of the album comes from a place of love,” he adds. “It’s about self-care. It’s about enlightenment. It’s about learning to listen to yourself, and accepting yourself in the moment. Embrace the moment of now, to be the best version of what you can be in that moment, and progress forward.”

Raw expressions of vulnerabilities, particularly in juxtaposition with their high-energy presence onstage and on record, have marked Idles out as a unique force. Like Kurt Cobain before them, they’ve drawn influence from the approach of the late, great lo-fi music hero Daniel Johnston – and have featured lyrics of his classic ‘True Love Will Find You In The End’ on Ultra Mono’s closing track ‘Danke’.

“He died on the day of recording that song, so it felt right, as a nod to him,” Talbot reveals. “Daniel Johnston had one of the most untapped resources in music and art – which is a real genuine sense of naivety that is powerful, impactful and strong. That was both a gift and a curse. His mental health was often in turmoil. But what that allowed him to be, is the most vulnerable one can be, even unknowingly sometimes. It’s stunning to listen to his music and his lyrics.

“I wanted to end the album on a sense of vulnerability, as an embrace with the audience, to move forward.”

Idles’ aren’t afraid to get blatantly political, either – taking aim at everything from Brexiteers on ‘Model Village’, to misogyny on ‘Ne Touche Pas Moi’.

“‘Model Village’ came from anger at England,” he acknowledges. “I had a very bad day. It was the day that Brexit came into fruition, and was voted in as a ‘move forward’ – if you can call it that. So, obviously, I was fucking livid. Well, maybe not livid – just disappointed.

“I sound like a parent!’ he laughs. “But I was disappointed. I know that England’s a bit of a shithole – or a massive shithole – and the Government are greedy heathens, but I had more faith in the people, or at least the infrastructure. I didn’t realise just how different it was, to what I thought it would be.”

Of course, not all hope is lost. As the Black Lives Matter movement made major waves around the world this summer, protestors in Idles’ adopted city of Bristol tore down the statue of 17th-century slave trader Edward Colston, before chucking him into the harbour. Beyond those symbolic acts, does Talbot feel like there’s been real change happening on the ground?

“It’s very hard to tell,” he muses. “Hopefully the movement of Black Lives Matter, and civil rights in general for all people, is progressing. It’s seemingly so on the Internet. But in order for that initial unification of people to make a real change on infrastructure, it needs to be sustained by re-education, communication, empathy and organisation. It’s a long, long process – as left-wing politics always is. It’s a much longer process than right-wing reactionary behaviour – which is to blame a group of people and try to kick them out of the country.”

While they’ve always used their platform to promote a pro-community, pro-equality and anti-establishment message, Idles’ growing popularity has also attracted the ire of fellow UK act Sleaford Mods – with one half of the duo, Jason Williamson, accusing Idles of “class appropriation” last year, which sparked a fiery debate among fans and critics alike. It appears that within UK music, like the country at large, a preoccupation with class continues to dominate debates, and forge deeper divides.

“The obsession with class in England is a cancer on people’s minds,” Talbot posits. “It allows people to have a sense of meritocracy from existence. The class system is there to sustain a sense of oppression financially and, more importantly, ideologically. Divide and conquer is about keeping people in their boxes.

“I’ve never denied the fact I’m middle-class, but I understand my privileges and I’ve tried to use them to the best of my ability,” he continues. “I want for an egalitarian future. I’m happy paying taxes – I’d pay more if they were going to the right places. If someone said, ‘You can pay 75% tax, but only a very small portion of that is going on defence, and it’s mostly going on schooling and the NHS’ – I’d fucking pay it! But that’s not the case.

“I’ve also been middle-class, and working 60 hour weeks on a zero-hours contract, as a social worker. So, where’s the line? What does it mean? It means a lot and it means nothing. Logistically and monetarily, it means everything – but beyond that it doesn’t make the person, unless they allow it to – which is through judgmental behaviours and sectarian thinking.”

Rather than brewing up a social media storm in response to such criticisms, Talbot faces the naysayers directly on ‘The Lover’: “I want to cater for the haters. Eat shit.”

“I’m not someone who goes onto Twitter and starts scurrying around a keyboard, trying to rally up a group of people to make someone feel small,” he explains. “I am a musician. That’s what I am, and that’s how I get rid of my demons – and that’s the only way I can respond to my critics.

“The whole album is about self-acceptance – it’s about looking at myself, and telling myself that nothing good will come from standing there and saying ‘I’m offended’. I needed to pick myself up, and understand that no matter what anyone says of me, it doesn’t define me. And if I allow it to define me, I’m defining myself by other people’s definition. I was my own worst critic, because I was allowing these people who went onto the Internet to try and humiliate me into my psyche, into my cognition, into my behaviours, and into my emotions – and I wanted to cut them out. So I did. And now I feel fucking amazing.”

And, following the release of Ultra Mono, Talbot’s already gearing up to bring that positive energy back to Vicar Street next year, for three nights in May. The run of gigs will be the band’s first on these shores since their iconic Iveagh Gardens show in 2019 – which earned them the highly coveted Hot Press Gig Of The Year honour.

IDLES at Iveagh Gardens Dublin 11.7.2019 Copyright Colm Kelly.

“There’s just a beautiful energy when we play in Dublin,” he reflects. “There’s certain places in the world where you feel the connection. The audience feels it, and we certainly feel it. You don’t even have to do a lot to feel something – because the energy is already there, and the music connects on a level where we can all feel it fluidly. Dublin’s one of those rare places. When it happens, it’s magic.”

Talbot also scored some points on this side of the Irish Sea during Idles’ NPR Tiny Desk Concert – as he raised a mug to the crowd, and gave a convincing “Sláinte”.

“[Idles’ Guitarist Mark] Bowen’s from Belfast, and I guess it’s just in my vernacular to say it!” he laughs. “I do fucking love Ireland. A lot of amazing art has come out of Ireland in the last five years. It’s funny how that happens – suddenly there’s a renaissance in certain parts of the world. Dublin and Australia seem to be two places that have pumped out loads of great musicians.”

Included on that list of current heroes are Idles’ Partisan labelmates, Fontaines D.C.

“They’re well in there,” he gushes. “I fucking love that band. They’ve become brothers of ours, which is a beautiful thing. Touring with them was a real joy. And I was one of the lucky ones – I’d had A Hero’s Death for a while, because they sent it to me. I’ve been listening to it a lot. I’ve got it on my cassette player…”

Really?

“No, I don’t have a cassette player,” he chuckles. “That was just my nod to hipsterdom – just to upset certain people. Actually, I’m going to buy a Walkman, just to piss off ‘certain people’.”

Until May 2021, Ultra Mono in our Walkmans will have to tide us over...

“I’ll see you at Vicar Street, at the front! We’ll spit on each other, Covid style. And just for the record, I don’t condone spitting on each other during Covid times – just in case there’s any bedwetters out there...”

• Ultra Mono is out now – read our review here. Idles play Vicar Street, Dublin on May 16, 17 & 18.