Sleaford Mods live at Bristol Beacon: Gig Review

Sleaford Mods by Nick Waplington

4 stars hq

Regardless of the musical style, the refusal to dress things up is what makes Sleaford Mods so compelling.

The contrast between tonight’s headliners and their support is stark.

Although confined to a small section of the stage, Heartworms’ fusion of gothic rock, electroclash and grand operatics is fully present across her half-hour set.

The spindly Extraordinary Wings is eerie, the juddering Warplane ratchets up the tension and closer Jacked explodes.

Josephine Orme and her musicians make an impressive noise for a three-piece, and wherever she goes next will be worth watching.

There’s no preamble or walk-on music when Sleaford Mods appear; Jason Williamson and Andrew Fearn simply shuffle onstage.

The latter presses play on his laptop while the singer offers a trademark squawk to throw the loyal crowd a bone, and we’re straight into a skipping rendition of The Unwrap, Williamson’s musings on the dopamine hit of home deliveries as a distraction from the chaos of the outside world.

The familiar barrage of wiry electronic loops and bass throbs reverberates through the opening trio of new songs.

The Good Life, complete with contributions from Big Special and Gwendoline Christie (as with the other guest appearances, delivered via an onstage TV screen), is frantic, while Megaton is skull-thudding.

Thereafter, the twangy loop of TCR cuts through the room and the set lifts, with noticeably more heads nodding in time within an otherwise subtly animated crowd.

The stage is stripped back almost to the point of parody: a backdrop consisting of a television set and three mirrors. Stark and functional, it’s entirely in keeping with Sleaford Mods’ approach.

A word for Andrew Fearn. For years he was infamous for standing almost completely still behind his laptop, occasionally raising a pint while Williamson ranted beside him.

Perhaps as a result of giving up marijuana, he has noticeably loosened up. He shuffles in time to the music or throws his hands toward the crowd, lightening the load on Williamson.

There’s nothing flashy about it, but it suggests a man who has gradually grown comfortable onstage.

In a concession to theatricality, midway through Flood The Zone the upper lights suddenly kick in and pierce the auditorium.

Regardless, Williamson remains a compelling presence throughout; pacing the stage and deploying his unique catalogue of dance moves which, as anyone who follows him on Instagram can attest, are a delight.

Later, during a thunderous UK Grim dazzling beams blast across the room so intensely that several members of the (distinctly middle-aged) crowd raise their hands to shield their eyes.

During Mork n Mindy, Williamson performs a brief catwalk strut across the front of the stage before theatrically sucking his thumb like a sulking toddler.

It’s clear Sleaford Mods’ enjoyment doesn’t depend on the crowd; the audience just happens to be there.

They’d likely be doing the same thing if the room were empty. Locked into their own chemistry, Fearn triggers the clattering loops while Williamson rides them like waves of irritation and wit.

Aside from encouraging applause for contributors (such as Billy Nomates and Dry Cleaning’s Florence Shaw), it’s a relentless, no-frills set as Sleaford Mods rattle through their hefty catalogue.

Kebab Spider is wobbly and vicious, Bang Someone Out does exactly that and their cover of West End Girls is the nearest thing to a singalong.

Best of all (and the highlight from The Demise Of Planet X) is Bad Santa, its moody atmospherics a tweak in their sound that’s worth pursuing further.

Regardless of the musical style, the refusal to dress things up is what makes Sleaford Mods so compelling.

Despite performing in a theatre, there’s no concession to the environment and, under harsh lights against that bare backdrop, their blunt-force minimalism does just nicely.

The most influential band of the last decade-and-a-half doing what they do best.