I’d heard a lot of good things about Sleaford Mods, one of the best being that they were Iggy Pop‘s new favorite band. That alone makes them worth a listen, but if you come for the Iggy Pop suggestion, stay for what might be the most punk record you’ve heard all year…and there doesn’t appear to be a single guitar on it. It’s just Jason Williamson‘s half-rap, half-stream of consciousness social commentary and Andrew Fearn‘s minimalist electronic beats. When you first hear a Sleaford Mods song, you might think, “This shouldn’t work.” Yet, it does. It does every fucking time.
English Tapas, the band’s newest, is a punch to the gut of subjects like Brexit, working class blues, one-percenters, consumerism, Donald Trump, hipsters, and everything else currently annoying. The album title itself is a play on the gentrification of working class neighborhoods.
Opener “Army Nights” has them taking down weekend partiers. Fearn’s electro-bass is instantly addictive, as are most of his beats. They get stuck in your head and you find yourself humming them throughout the day. “Just Like We Do” has Williamson making fun of music snobs. “You walk around like a twat, just like we do,” he says, not caring about people who dwell on past accomplishments.
“Moptop” has Williamson worrying that he can’t cope with what’s happening around him (mostly having to deal with inane bands, internet overload, and annoying British politicians) while Fearn’s synth-bass gets downright groovy. It’s even groovier on “Messy Everywhere,” as Williamson sings about people being stuck in dead end jobs (“First it’s this, then it moves on to that…”) yearning to get out and shake up things.
I love how Fearns loops crickets chirping in “Time Sands” to mock the crickets in our heads as we see chaos and inequality all around us yet we stand and often do nothing. Williamson warns us that time, and history, is passing by us so we’d better “turn it upside-down” by getting off our asses and making our voices heard (or at least lending a hand now and then). “Snout” immediately trashes people creating perfect, fake images of themselves to project to the world via social media. “Felt like I was trying to be trendy, when I’m not,” Williamson says. “I don’t fuck about, I’m making sure I don’t give my kids anything to feel fucking embarrassed about.” Preach it, Jason. Seriously, this might be the angriest track I’ve heard all year.
“Drayton Manored” refers to an amusement park in Staffordshire, England and is a funny song about Williamson and Fearns lamenting about a long trip there and all the odd looks and attitudes they receive there. “Carlton Touts” has Williamson flat-out referring to English politicians and ticket touts (scalpers, as we call them here in the U.S.) as “fat bastards.” “Cuddly” has slick beats from Fearns that any hip hop producer would love to have in their back pocket. “What does a million quid a week bring when your brain can’t tell your legs to kick the fuckin’ thing?” Williamson asks, making us question our addictions – whatever they may be (iPhones? Drugs? Booze? Recognition?).
“Dull” lashes out at those who voted for Brexit (“Safe bet, all the oldies vote for death.”) and “B.H.S.” is a lament for over eleven thousand people who lost their jobs (and more lost their pensions) when a British businessman, Sir Philip Green, bankrupted the B.H.S. department store chain and skated to the Mediterranean with hundreds of millions of pounds. “I Feel So Wrong” has Williamson feeling conflicted over his own success with a chorus of him repeating the song’s title and lyrics like “I looked at myself tonight, I know I’m richer. It turns itself inside and burns that little bit deeper.”
This is one of the smartest, wittiest, best,and most punk albums of 2017. Sleaford Mods might not be for everyone, but they’re speaking for all of us.
Keep your mind open.
[I don’t have a moptop, but I could use a subscription.]
