Sleaford Mods review: Hard but fair from UK duo at Cyprus Avenue in Cork
A file image of Jason Williamson of Sleaford Mods, the group who played three recent gigs in Ireland, including Cyprus Avenue in Cork. (Photo by Mariano Regidor/Redferns)
★★★★☆
Punk’s not dead – it’s just been revamped with electronic beats by a couple of blokes from the English midlands.
Vocalist Jason Williamson and music man Andrew Fearn have established a solid niche for themselves at the grittier end of popular music since they made their Cork debut at Crane Lane back in 2014. While you’d like to think the world has moved on since then, the duo’s contemptuous take on their surroundings is probably more relevant than ever.
There’s definitely a touch of the John Lydons about Williamson, both in attitude and the way he winds up so many online nay-sayers, but a long sold-out Crane Lane suggests he still has his tribe. In Cork at least, the yay-sayers seem to skew male, aged 40s and 50s.
Williamson’s music persona is essentially angry middle-aged man, unloading expletive-laden rants at all unlucky enough to wander into his sights. At times it veers from cross bloke in a bar to mental health casualty on a park bench shouting at nobody and everybody. Listen closely, however, and the Lincolnshire lad is actually dropping some nuggets, hitting people and places in Britain's margins that other lyricists don’t reach.
And sometimes, he’s just right. Perhaps it really IS all shit. And they really ARE all fuckin’ wankers. What the world needs now might be love sweet love – just don’t expect to get it at a Sleaford Mods gig.
In fairness to the 55-year-old, the little bits of banter between songs shows a softer side, appreciative of the crowd’s response, and requesting applause for the non-present collaborators whose faces pop up on the six screens around the stage.
Among those we see on video early in the gig are Gwendoline Christie (Brienne in ) and Joe Hicklin of Big Special, who both contribute colour to perhaps the stand-out track of the Sleafords’ most recent album,
Other highlights of the 90-minute set include (with Bristol singer Billy Nomates), and lyrical gem : “Everyone still looks like Ena Sharples and Ray Reardon, People need to move on, that '50s look can do one, Elvis has definitely left the fucking building.”
Unfortunately, Williamson’s all-important lyrics do get lost in the mix at times during the gig, but there’s still enough music being unleashed from Fearn’s laptop to mostly keep us engaged.
And just when it feels like the energy might be flagging, a welcome change of tone arrives with a cover of , by the Pet Shop Boys. “It doesn’t have to be all doom and gloom. It doesn’t have to be all cursing,” jokes Williamson by way of introduction as the disco-ball sparkles above the dancefloor.
Both the volume and the BPMs go up for frenetic closing track and at 10.30pm, Fearn is already plugging out his kit in a clear signal that there’ll be no encore. Job done.
