Sleaford Mods at Brixton Academy, London, review: Standout show sees duo tear into the drudgery of daily life

It's impossible to peel your eyes from frontman Jason Williamson as he prowls the stage

Sleaford Mods at the Roundhouse in London, 2016 (Simon Parfrenent)

On paper it shouldn’t work. Two middle aged men and a laptop headlining one of London’s largest venues. But Jason Williamson and Andrew Fearn should be given the keys to the capital, let alone Brixton Academy after this compelling performance.

From opener “I Feel So Wrong” it's impossible to peel your eyes away from frontman Williamson as he prowls the stage, living and breathing each and every lyric. By third track “I Can Tell” he’s barking and miaowing away, spitting out the words “I just hope everything gets pulled apart and pushed”.

Meanwhile Fearn stands to the left of the stage wearing his trademark Chief Wiggum T-shirt, cradling a bottle of beer, rocking in time to the pounding tunes he cues up for each track. A solid anchor to Williamson’s possessed energy.

The venue might be more used to rock bands with light shows and lasers yet the Sleaford Mods are as exciting to watch as any other act I’ve seen on this legendary stage. They are an unstoppable force.

New album English Tapas features heavily throughout - they play “Snout” and the Boris-baiting “Moptop” back to back to huge cheers, before EP single “TCR” sends the crowd to another level, the moshpit a flurry of (good natured) limbs. The lyrics about leaving your kids at home for a night out but then realising that “I hate going out, going out is for young people. I can’t sit and enjoy a drink, I want the lot” clearly hitting home.

There’s a slight issue with the sound as Williamson asks for the bass to be turned down but this doesn’t impact on the show at all. He seems to genuinely appreciate the feedback of the London crowd who try their best to keep up with their sweat-bathed hero, yelling back his lyrics.

The set list races by, ending on single “BHS” before they return with a encore including the outstanding full frontal assault of “Jobseeker” and ending on “Tweet, tweet, tweet” - “This is the human race, UKIP and your disgrace, chopped heads on London streets, all you zombies tweet, tweet, tweet…”

It’s a standout show. Two dozen tracks of bile-infused rhetoric, peppered with hilarious asides, tearing holes through the drudgery of daily life, the politicians and other chancers who take advantage.