NAME:
IDER
ABOUT
Meeting on Falmouth University’s Popular Music course in 2012, Megan Markwick and Lily Somerville’s first collaborations were folk songs inspired by Joni Mitchell and Fleetwood Mac. A 2016 move to London didn’t incite a rethink so much as expose all the possibilities suddenly at the pair’s disposal. Now also drawing inspiration from the likes of Lapsley, Ibeyi and The Japanese House, IDER was born. After their debut EP, 2017’s Gut Me Like an Animal (released by tastemaking independent Aesop), they were quickly signed to the venerable Glassnote Records for their 2019 debut album, Emotional Education. It was acclaimed across the board.
IDER, however, grappled with the creative sacrifices imposed upon them by big label formalities, and struggled to reconcile their boundless vision with the limitations of the music industry. “The pressure in a formal studio to find a song’s audio identity, the world it sits in, in a couple of days, there’s so much pressure. You’re not able to creatively explore with time on your side,” says Markwick. Somerville adds: “When you’re sitting in really expensive studios, the clock is fucking ticking.”
For album two, then, their experience needed to be different. IDER needed a change, something that would catalyse their creativity and the giddy rush of pure creation once again. That came when they parted ways with Glassnote in 2020. Suddenly, they were Megan and Lily again; two friends with nothing but an abundance of talent and a telepathic read on the other’s musicality. Now was the time to begin creating album two—this time, on their own terms. The result was shame, a radically open exploration of acceptance. Here, IDER aren’t merely songwriters but producers, collaborators, curators and creative directors. Freed from the creative and spiritual confines of a label, the duo’s identity is stronger than ever.
“Last year, our big plan was to move to Berlin and write our second album. We got there, and we got COVID four weeks later. We had three weeks of heaven where we wrote so much new music and it was everything we dreamed of, living that chaotic, no-routine lifestyle. We Thelma and Louised it back, because the messaging at the time was “if you don’t come back to London now, you never will.”” Once recovered, the pair spent time working in Markwick’s parents’ North London home before moving into the shared Bethnal Green flat that doubles as their studio today. Here, they slowly refined an amorphous collection of profoundly honest tracks, sketches and ideas into shame.
Self-acceptance is the essence of shame. It’s the idea that gave the record its name, and informed its creation. It is, by the same token, the reason IDER are so unafraid to be so open—there’s a sense of the duo having nothing to lose, and it’s invigorating. Vulnerability has birthed the best music of their career. At its core, IDER is a sonic environment for the unvarnished, uncompromising truth to exist in. But, where another band might interrogate the truth, IDER embrace it, no matter how ugly it is. shame, and how it came to be, exudes a sense of enormous self-ownership that foregrounds Markwick and Somerville’s maturity not just as artists, but as human beings.
Opener “Cross Yourself” showcases the duo’s production chops as well as any of the album’s eight tracks. The hedonism of Berlin echoes in its thunderous bassline and sultry vocal delivery, whilst its percussion is so crisp and present as to become a hook all of its own. Clearly, at this point in IDER’s career, they’re unapologetically, confrontationally raw. Production says this quicker than lyrics, but in just as clear a voice, such is the seamless convergence of both areas that is a hallmark of the IDER sound. On this rock-solid bed, Markwick and Somverville use their lyrics to not simply acknowledge their imperfections, but foreground them in a way that celebrates the shortcomings that make us all human. Nobody is perfect, and those who appear to have it all figured out are often those whose panic simmers hottest below the surface. IDER is a rejection of ego and its need to be constantly massaged, particularly in the music industry circles the duo came to inhabit, got too close to, and now, veto outright.
“I think every artist and every band, at some point in their career, is pissed off at their industry. That’s the nature of the game. That song does conjure up our frustrations with an industry that is not artist-friendly,” concedes Markwick, when discussing “BORED”. “There’s a sense of it coming from a place of exasperation. It’s unguarded.”
It’s a notion that pervades the very fabric of “Knocked Up”, which illustrates the depth and uniqueness of Somerville and Markwick’s relationship. Insecurities that arose in the former’s younger years are laid plain in the verses and soothed in a chorus penned by the latter. The result is a perfect conceptual symbiosis given life by IDER’s trademark razor-sharp harmonies. If IDER shares a hive mind, Knocked Up is a study on cognitive dissonance: when you want to tell your younger self it’s all going to be okay, but don’t fully believe so.
To Somerville, Knocked Up is a “very, very vulnerable relaying of a lot of younger shame and trying to make sense of where that shame comes from in your childhood. It’s about the story that you tell yourself, and laying rest to that. Not to disassociate with it, but to accept that it doesn’t have the power that it did.”
What this track is not, however, is trite. This is no montage of signifiers masquerading as an ode to self-love. Rather, like “embarrassed” that follows later, it presents owning your imperfections as a begrudging, profound necessity. To do so fully is not supposed to be easy or fun, but regrettably, is absolutely essential. IDER’s production and songwriting tackle this realisation with admirable poise.
Another area the duo regularly interrogates is the nature of monogamous relationships and the inevitable insecurities and frustrations that come with them. “obsessed” is a good example. Its production is among shame’s most striking, punctuated by a woozy push and pull of luxuriant synths and rickety, tumbling drums. It spent a while in and out of various iterations, until Kiran Kai’s production assistance encouraged it into place. And yet, Lily says: “Not that anything’s an effort, but I’d say that one was the most effortless.”
shame ends on a moment of introspection, as “Midland’s Guilt” sees Somerville ruminate on what it means to have made a life away from Tamworth where she was born and raised, and whether she’d have been able to make this life for herself had she not left. When IDER first earned press attention, they were billed as a “North London duo”. She sings, “My Midland’s guilt is with me all the same, pray I see the day I make it home to die.” In this line, she inadvertently summarises not only her journey, but IDER’s. The duo are once again in charge of their own destinies.
Markwick and Somerville have deconstructed palatable, marketable notions that had them billed as another “pop duo”, and in finally having total control of their craft, have created the best body of work of their career. For all the change that shame represents, IDER remain as devoted to mastering pop as they were on Emotional Education. “There’s a sense of caring more than ever but not taking it nearly as seriously, as we’re now so relaxed about everything,” says Markwick. But, now creating and releasing music independently in every sense, “this is the strongest we’ve felt in terms of our identity, our confidence, in saying what we want to say, and it sounding how we want to sound,” they agree.
ExpandIDER, however, grappled with the creative sacrifices imposed upon them by big label formalities, and struggled to reconcile their boundless vision with the limitations of the music industry. “The pressure in a formal studio to find a song’s audio identity, the world it sits in, in a couple of days, there’s so much pressure. You’re not able to creatively explore with time on your side,” says Markwick. Somerville adds: “When you’re sitting in really expensive studios, the clock is fucking ticking.”
For album two, then, their experience needed to be different. IDER needed a change, something that would catalyse their creativity and the giddy rush of pure creation once again. That came when they parted ways with Glassnote in 2020. Suddenly, they were Megan and Lily again; two friends with nothing but an abundance of talent and a telepathic read on the other’s musicality. Now was the time to begin creating album two—this time, on their own terms. The result was shame, a radically open exploration of acceptance. Here, IDER aren’t merely songwriters but producers, collaborators, curators and creative directors. Freed from the creative and spiritual confines of a label, the duo’s identity is stronger than ever.
“Last year, our big plan was to move to Berlin and write our second album. We got there, and we got COVID four weeks later. We had three weeks of heaven where we wrote so much new music and it was everything we dreamed of, living that chaotic, no-routine lifestyle. We Thelma and Louised it back, because the messaging at the time was “if you don’t come back to London now, you never will.”” Once recovered, the pair spent time working in Markwick’s parents’ North London home before moving into the shared Bethnal Green flat that doubles as their studio today. Here, they slowly refined an amorphous collection of profoundly honest tracks, sketches and ideas into shame.
Self-acceptance is the essence of shame. It’s the idea that gave the record its name, and informed its creation. It is, by the same token, the reason IDER are so unafraid to be so open—there’s a sense of the duo having nothing to lose, and it’s invigorating. Vulnerability has birthed the best music of their career. At its core, IDER is a sonic environment for the unvarnished, uncompromising truth to exist in. But, where another band might interrogate the truth, IDER embrace it, no matter how ugly it is. shame, and how it came to be, exudes a sense of enormous self-ownership that foregrounds Markwick and Somerville’s maturity not just as artists, but as human beings.
Opener “Cross Yourself” showcases the duo’s production chops as well as any of the album’s eight tracks. The hedonism of Berlin echoes in its thunderous bassline and sultry vocal delivery, whilst its percussion is so crisp and present as to become a hook all of its own. Clearly, at this point in IDER’s career, they’re unapologetically, confrontationally raw. Production says this quicker than lyrics, but in just as clear a voice, such is the seamless convergence of both areas that is a hallmark of the IDER sound. On this rock-solid bed, Markwick and Somverville use their lyrics to not simply acknowledge their imperfections, but foreground them in a way that celebrates the shortcomings that make us all human. Nobody is perfect, and those who appear to have it all figured out are often those whose panic simmers hottest below the surface. IDER is a rejection of ego and its need to be constantly massaged, particularly in the music industry circles the duo came to inhabit, got too close to, and now, veto outright.
“I think every artist and every band, at some point in their career, is pissed off at their industry. That’s the nature of the game. That song does conjure up our frustrations with an industry that is not artist-friendly,” concedes Markwick, when discussing “BORED”. “There’s a sense of it coming from a place of exasperation. It’s unguarded.”
It’s a notion that pervades the very fabric of “Knocked Up”, which illustrates the depth and uniqueness of Somerville and Markwick’s relationship. Insecurities that arose in the former’s younger years are laid plain in the verses and soothed in a chorus penned by the latter. The result is a perfect conceptual symbiosis given life by IDER’s trademark razor-sharp harmonies. If IDER shares a hive mind, Knocked Up is a study on cognitive dissonance: when you want to tell your younger self it’s all going to be okay, but don’t fully believe so.
To Somerville, Knocked Up is a “very, very vulnerable relaying of a lot of younger shame and trying to make sense of where that shame comes from in your childhood. It’s about the story that you tell yourself, and laying rest to that. Not to disassociate with it, but to accept that it doesn’t have the power that it did.”
What this track is not, however, is trite. This is no montage of signifiers masquerading as an ode to self-love. Rather, like “embarrassed” that follows later, it presents owning your imperfections as a begrudging, profound necessity. To do so fully is not supposed to be easy or fun, but regrettably, is absolutely essential. IDER’s production and songwriting tackle this realisation with admirable poise.
Another area the duo regularly interrogates is the nature of monogamous relationships and the inevitable insecurities and frustrations that come with them. “obsessed” is a good example. Its production is among shame’s most striking, punctuated by a woozy push and pull of luxuriant synths and rickety, tumbling drums. It spent a while in and out of various iterations, until Kiran Kai’s production assistance encouraged it into place. And yet, Lily says: “Not that anything’s an effort, but I’d say that one was the most effortless.”
shame ends on a moment of introspection, as “Midland’s Guilt” sees Somerville ruminate on what it means to have made a life away from Tamworth where she was born and raised, and whether she’d have been able to make this life for herself had she not left. When IDER first earned press attention, they were billed as a “North London duo”. She sings, “My Midland’s guilt is with me all the same, pray I see the day I make it home to die.” In this line, she inadvertently summarises not only her journey, but IDER’s. The duo are once again in charge of their own destinies.
Markwick and Somerville have deconstructed palatable, marketable notions that had them billed as another “pop duo”, and in finally having total control of their craft, have created the best body of work of their career. For all the change that shame represents, IDER remain as devoted to mastering pop as they were on Emotional Education. “There’s a sense of caring more than ever but not taking it nearly as seriously, as we’re now so relaxed about everything,” says Markwick. But, now creating and releasing music independently in every sense, “this is the strongest we’ve felt in terms of our identity, our confidence, in saying what we want to say, and it sounding how we want to sound,” they agree.
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