Sleaford Mods - Key Markets

Jason Williamson haunts me. I wake in the night for a wee and there’s Bronx in a Six’s chorus prodding my brain. I go to the supermarket after work and can’t stop thinking about the weird lyrics to Tarantula Deadly Cargo. I chat with buddies and all I can hear is “You pretend to be proud of your own culture while simultaneously not giving two fucks about your own culture.” Andrew Fearn’s simple laptop beats accompany Jason’s spitted, barbed and sometimes comical lyrics. This their third proper album begins with a crowd chanting “Sleaford Mods! Sleaford Mods!” and Live Tonight sets in with repetitive grimy guitar, a drum machine and bleak lyrics. Bronx in a Six is a total male strut. Silly Me has a dub swagger to it and Williamson even sings the odd line, albeit it slightly and deliberately off key. Cunt Make It Up is a proper furious stream of consciousness. Quiet Streets offers more obvious and pointed jabs political jabs; “Milliband got hit with the ugly stick, not that it matters, the chirping cunt obviously wants the country in tatters; they all do”. Rupert Trousers has some stunning lines “dark movement past sycamore trees in the hamlet of Newton or wherever..” and then disses Blur brilliantly; “even the drummer’s a fucking MP”. He’s angry and he’s honest. That’s important and rare. I’d say Jason’s a poet, but he’d fucking hate that.