A single microphone stand stood centre stage at Brisbane’s Princess Theatre (6 June).
Further to stage-right, a table held an open laptop. The setup was so minimal the stage looked bare, resembling something closer to a stand-up comedy show.
Rather than the angry ranting and creative vulgarity of someone like Bill Hicks, the sold-out crowd were gathered for the angry ranting and creative vulgarity of British duo Sleaford Mods.
Initially formed by Jason Williamson in 2007, the pairing of Williamson on vocals and production by Andrew Fearns have gone strength-to-strength since their first collaboration in 2012.
Earlier this year, the pair showed how far they can push their bare bones, laptop-and-polemics approach with their eighth album together, ‘UK Grim’. As the show was about to start, I contemplated the earplugs in my pocket and wondered, ‘how loud can two blokes with a laptop be?’.
A tremolo-picked guitar note whispered into the venue, joined by the yelps of Ruby Marshall, the non-binary Melbourne musician who performs as ENOLA.
Suddenly, a cavernous beat cracked the air, morphing the tune into ghostly post-punk, and Ruby jerked her limbs like the dancing of the late Ian Curtis of Joy Division.
The rhythm section’s tightly wound grooves perfectly matched the intensity of Ruby’s cry: “I hate this! I’m weightless!” Guitars growled through amps, and the drums snapped harder as Ruby’s voice grew from a low moan to a coarse shout.
The set was an excellent introduction to ENOLA, a brooding artist with a bright future.
Strangers rubbed shoulders with strangers as the size of the crowd grew for Sleaford Mods. Deafening cheers erupted as Andrew Fearns bounded across the stage to his laptop. Pressing play, Andrew’s beat hit hard necessitating the earplugs.
Jason followed, loudly cawing into the mic and unleashing a barrage of lyrics for opening song, ‘UK Grim’. Strobe lights quickly flashed at the back of the stage, turning the two figures into dancing black silhouettes.
Andrew utilised the entire stage for his dancing, pausing only to press play on the next track. Meanwhile, the audience had minimal space to dance as freely as Andrew, but as his infectious beats played, the crowd couldn’t help but at least nod or slightly shuffle to the groove.
As Andrew danced, Jason displayed his own stamina barking a barrage of insults aimed at ‘rich wankers’ and ‘Tory twats’ for the crises their greed has created.
Jason barely paused to take a breath during songs, so it must’ve been a relief for him when the disembodied voices of collaborators appear, including Florence Shaw of Dry Cleaning, Billy Nomates, and Perry Farrell.
Performing 25 songs in just over an hour, Sleaford Mods’ energy levels stayed high, hopping, marching, and ranting the entire time. It’s impressive they can sustain such high energy for that time.
Despite this, I felt my attention begin to wane in the middle of their show. The duo has done brilliantly over the last decade with their minimal setup, and their albums are all short, sharp bursts of fun, but I couldn’t help but feel the drag of time slowing.
However, other parts of the crowd differed, with some dedicated fans attempting to chant along with Jason, only to be outpaced.
Andrew once again pressed play on his laptop, and a recording of Amy Taylor from Amyl And The Sniffers signalled the start of ‘Nudge It’. The lull had passed, and the room seemed reenergised. At the front of the stage, excitement broke out in the form of shirts and shoes being tossed up high.
While there’s only so much two blokes with a laptop can do, it’s all Sleaford Mods need for a great evening.