- 23 Feb 17
Truth-speaking rants from the laureates of Brexit Britain.
In this age of Brexit, deep-fried American fascism and the ongoing global shitstorm in which we are all to one degree or another submerged, Sleaford Mods may well be the band we need and deserve. The rough ‘n’ ready duo from the English Midlands deliver searing truths in guttural quasi-chants, the energetic ranting upholstered with beats so tinny they might be dribbling from the speakers of a 10 year-old Nokia.
On ‘Army Nights’, frontman Jason Williamson – it would be an overstatement to describe his gruff yelps as singing – splices fever-dream imagery and pretend fart-sounds. It’s a striking juxtaposition, the frontman blending zeal and humour, political outrage and scatological clowning to impressive effect.
His playful anger has the perfect launch pad in Andrew Fearn’s tinfoil grooves, which clitter and clatter impishly, as Williamson swerves from irreverent to incoherent to occasionally incandescent. It is all part of the grand Sleaford design.