As I stepped into Kulttuuritalo, it quickly began to feel like the autumn weather settling over Helsinki had chased away the concertgoers. The cloakroom was nearly empty, even though the opening act Kissa had already played for about twenty minutes at that point. Of course, Kissa might have been a slightly odd pairing for Sleaford Mods. Despite the autumn darkness and the small crowd, Kissa was energetic as always and declared the message of rock n' roll with admirable vigor. Fortunately, the concert audience also began to turn up during the break.
Even though it was probably quite far from a sold-out show, the floor filled up nicely by the time the gig started. With a very minimalistic stage setup (a laptop on a road case and a mic stand), the touring Sleaford Mods started on time and didn't slow down for unnecessary ballads for the next hour and a half. Pleasingly, the tour named after the new album was not just empty words, as nearly half of the songs heard at the gig were from The Demise of Planet X. If my tally is correct, only Don Draper was left unplayed. Next most represented was the breakthrough album Divide and Exit, with three tracks performed. Of course, all these were in the final third of the show, including the last song Tweet Tweet Tweet.
James Williamson walks back and forth across the stage and delivers his poetry with a sensitivity only a British man can muster. Unfortunately, the vocals were occasionally drowned out by the beat, but every "fockin'" was certainly heard, underlining Williamson's dedication to his own preaching. Credit also to Andrew Fearn, who plays the role of DJ at gigs—he doesn't even try to fuss with foghorns and sirens, as is often customary with laptop DJs. Honestly just "play," the beat starts from the laptop, and then he's back to dancing in the shadows with moves only dads enjoying a suddenly empty house might envy.
The band's sound is so uncompromising that during the gig, I pondered suitable points of comparison for Sleaford Mods, but came up empty every time. The general Britishness is certainly present in a familiar way, but I can't think of a clear kindred spirit from pop history. Unexpectedly, the Pet Shop Boys cover, West End Girls, originally released as a charity single, clicks all the pieces into place. Maybe the band's sound isn't as far-fetched as I wanted to think. Times and manners have surely changed, but perhaps James Williamson and Neil Tennant have more in common than it might initially seem.
Towards the end the mood intensified and the audience started to get more into it as older tunes were performed. The final stretch—Tied Up in Nottz, Jobseeker, Elitest G.O.A.T. and Tweet Tweet Tweet—ensured that stepping out onto Sturenkatu, the autumn darkness no longer felt oppressive, just refreshing. And surprisingly bright.
