So, I had something of a big night last week.
Sandwiched between a couple of ultimately forgettable evenings at the Guildhall, I found myself in the frankly improbable position of being wedged in a van with various band members on the way down to a gig in Bristol. I was Danny Baker on the Led Zeppelin tour bus…
My daughter’s partner, Callum, plays drums in Big Special, a Brummie drums-and-vocals duo who are starting to do quite well for themselves, and who’ve just landed themselves a slot supporting a truly dazzling pair of ne’er-do-wells.
Sleaford Mods
And what a cracking night it was too. It’s been about five years since I saw the Sleafords last and the fact that they are now selling out the O2 rather than the more modest venues I’d previously seen them in is a mark of something of a rise. I was going to say “inexorable” but a middle-aged bloke rapping to the loops and beats of another middle-aged bloke hardly classes as anything we could have seen coming, does it? Fickle butterfly-mind that I am, however, I’ve completely taken my eye off the ball and was unaware of the new UK Grim record that came out earlier this year. Apparently, it’s their twelfth… (Who knew? Where have I been?).
The whole “sold out” thing was of no concern to such a well-connected Blogger as myself – Callum had generously put my name on the guest list (Backstage, no less). So after a couple of sharpeners in the legendary Hatchet over the road (elbow to elbow with Geoff Barrow, at one point), we sailed breezily into the O2, waving wrist bands carelessly in the direction of unimpressed bouncers (to be honest, I would almost have preferred a brief “your name’s not on the list” altercation with eventual resolution, envious groups of shivering punters looking on.) It was all over a little too quickly for my liking – I wanted to go back through it again…
More drinks and a spot up on the balcony secured, we had a great view of Callum and soft-eyed giant Joe (first name terms, see?) ripping through their Big Special set. It was great fun, Joe’s goliath voice and stage presence making him hard to take your eyes off. Loping around the stage like a lunatic Max Wall, he is bit of a star, to be fair.
I’m very fond of Callum – he’ll make a great son-in-law – and it’s hard to give an unbiased view of him and Big Special. Definitely a front-and-centre drummer/vocalist (not a strictly business Charlie Watts by any means), it was not a surprise to see him in the mosh pit with the young things for one song, no drums, just mic’d up, bristling energy. All I can say is that I loved them both and I loved the set.
As much as I enjoyed the Brummie oomph of Big Special, the Sleaford Mods are different level.
The most obvious change to their set since previous times I’ve seen them is that Andrew Fearne now dances, no more standing behind his laptop looking righteously pleased with himself. Proper dad-dancing it is too, no fucks given. Jason Williamson is much the same, however, possibly better. Potty-mouthed, brimming still with physical ticks and outlandish idiosyncrasies, indeed with one or two new ones – water bottle on the head, shorts down in front of the floor fan – and continues to stream anger and distrust.
Nothing from the Bristol gig online, but someone’s shared this version of “Mork and Mindy” from the day before:
I was struck halfway through the evening that this is all really very British – Americans and continentals must be scratching their heads at most of Williamson’s lyrics. When we’re older and calmer, we’ll see the Sleafords as genuine flag-waving symbols of a glowering UK, resenting the spectacle of our country being trashed and looted by a generation of entitled, idiotic UKIP politicians. I reckon that along with co-collaborator Cold War Steve, the Sleaford Mods are ambassadors for post-Covid Britain – the irony being that none of the shower of flag-shaggers in government would have a clue why they are great, why they are something to be proud of, or indeed who Jimmy Mack might be…
We ran through most of the songs from the new record in what in football-parlance they’d call an “end to end” affair and there were reprises of a few favourites (including “Tweet, Tweet, Tweet”, “McFlurry” and of course “Jobseeker”). There was also a really clever retake of the charity single “West End Girls” which all made perfect sense.
A couple of recordings, for those that are interested (it got a bit noisy, mind…):
And then they were gone like a hiss in the night, no encore, no fuss, a quick thumbs up to a throbbing mass of humming punters and they were on their way.
As it should be, what a buzz.
Partly Porpoise 