Sleaford Mods documentary is hilariously profound, vulgar brilliance. One of the best music docs ever made!
Have a Corgi? Are you a Jobseeker? Tied up in Nottz? Well, if you are one of those three or all of them, you definitely will love this documentary. I know I did.
Perhaps the best and most outspoken music film since THIS IS SPINAL TAP and HATED: G.G. ALLIN, we follow the Sleaford Mods' journey as they record their third official album "Key Markets" (not "English Tapas" which was released around the same time as this doc.) seeing Jason Williamson (the singer of the Mods) get a tattoo, have a towel at Glastonbury on his head wrapped around like the Pharaoh, and Andrew Fearn (the silent, gawky bloke on the laptop) staring at you smoking a cigarette and talking about canal routes. Hilarious indeed, it's also a slap-in-the-face against the typical, make-ourselves-look-Gods image pop groups put on and its indie hip-hop/rock/punk vibe is the perfect antidote to bewildered, austerity Britain...all in its 18-certificate (a rating hardly given to films like it used to) glory filled with a spattering of words that look and sound like the third word in the title but with the "T" in front of the "S."
As a fan of Boards of Canada, Future Sound of London, and Gorillaz, I actually didn't know about the Mods until last year when I started giving a chance on their music after hearing Williamson's contribution on The Prodigy's "Ibiza." Who knew an angry chap with a strangely thick Northern-sounding albeit East Midlands accent would be so bloody funny. I did and now Sleaford Mods among very select others are one of my favourite groups in recent years.
Review by, Skinny Ebert (S.E.)
Perhaps the best and most outspoken music film since THIS IS SPINAL TAP and HATED: G.G. ALLIN, we follow the Sleaford Mods' journey as they record their third official album "Key Markets" (not "English Tapas" which was released around the same time as this doc.) seeing Jason Williamson (the singer of the Mods) get a tattoo, have a towel at Glastonbury on his head wrapped around like the Pharaoh, and Andrew Fearn (the silent, gawky bloke on the laptop) staring at you smoking a cigarette and talking about canal routes. Hilarious indeed, it's also a slap-in-the-face against the typical, make-ourselves-look-Gods image pop groups put on and its indie hip-hop/rock/punk vibe is the perfect antidote to bewildered, austerity Britain...all in its 18-certificate (a rating hardly given to films like it used to) glory filled with a spattering of words that look and sound like the third word in the title but with the "T" in front of the "S."
As a fan of Boards of Canada, Future Sound of London, and Gorillaz, I actually didn't know about the Mods until last year when I started giving a chance on their music after hearing Williamson's contribution on The Prodigy's "Ibiza." Who knew an angry chap with a strangely thick Northern-sounding albeit East Midlands accent would be so bloody funny. I did and now Sleaford Mods among very select others are one of my favourite groups in recent years.
Review by, Skinny Ebert (S.E.)
- marksarlljr
- 27 mars 2018