Sleaford Mods At Nottingham Rock City REVIEW

Amidst the roof-raisingly raucous clamour for a second encore at the end of Sleaford Mods' sellout Rock City gig, a friendly couple introduced themselves to me as the band's relatives and asked what I had thought of the preceding 75 minutes.

This proved tougher to articulate than I anticipated.

Though what we had experienced matched the coming of age gigs by Nirvana and Oasis at Rock City for sheer sticky floor, spit on the back of the neck vitality and musicality, this felt somehow different.

That’s not to say that there was collective excitement at this moment, the end of a breakthough tour where after six years Sleaford Mods find themselves an overnight success with a top ten album, acres of newsprint, a film and even a new single with (gasp!) a humalong tune.

But more it was the sense of connection with their hometown audience and communal sense of passion.

In recent interviews Jason has used that word when speaking of his music as a reaction not only to Austerity Britain, but resentment of ‘The Man’s’ lack of compassion for those left behind.

So when like a local, demented, version of the ‘only-man-with-sight-left-walking-the-streets-of England’ from The Day of Triffids Jason holds forth that it's no longer just bad that we have sleptwalk into a world of Pound Shops, Foodbanks, Payday loans and local football teams who always let you down, but just plain unacceptable.

And when he screamed ‘Nottingham, we are your sons!’ it was with a passion that was immediately grasped and reciprocated by their adoring fans.