Sleaford Mods ‎– Key Markets LP Sleaford Mods have actually been making records for years now, like the prolific crossover between a crusty band doing 7” splits, a rapper throwing archives onto DatPiff and, you know, the Fall. They have a good half dozen full lengths; most of us know of about three. If you want to know who’s coasting along the zeitgeist right now, it’s the fans rather than the Mods, who seem to have kept their songs’ structural integrity tight through a lineup change (in dulcet beatmaker Andrew Fearn) and a few political tremors. This is business as usual, of course… and yet. ‘Key Markets’ is different. Ever so fucking slightly, it suggests a band contented with themselves, at least, even if the country can’t sort itself out. “Live Tonight” begins with a crowd chanting the band’s name eagerly, a heckler screaming “you cunt!” as if no one’s ever thought to yell that at one of their shows before -- of course, before they can enjoy it Williamson and Fearn cut in with the bass, the stern beats, the cussing. If anything, the difference in ‘Key Markets’ is heard in the duo trying to let us know they’re the same act, while keeping their signature sound away from the harms of self-parody. Lyrically, Williamson still sabotages his spit-stained monologues with non-sequiturs and sinking dead ends (“Where’s your wife, your kids, your house?”; “What culture? Fuck culture”, and other questions), and the production around him is tight and claustrophobic, the usual sound of a cramped garage bouncing from the outside. There are songs on here as straight-and-narrow as ye olde “Donkey” that will likely infuriate and delight, concentrated around budget lyrics and a repeating bass rhythm. There are half-fond shout outs to celebs and musicians (yo, Kate Bush) and jokes at Nick Clegg’s expense. It’s what you expected, but that doesn’t make it anymore laugh-out-loud shocking when you hear it. Pitchfork picked bones with Williamson’s recent trend towards actually singing some of his lyrics, which can be heard in some of the record’s early-choice singles -- “No One’s Bothered” almost puts him onto a melody and “Faces to Faces” sees him briefly hum over a twinkling sample. For me, it’s a hip-hop affectation, a reminder of rappers like Young Thug, who can wring great tunes out of peculiar vocalising; it’s a reminder of all the aspirational rappers using autotune as an access for a good hook. Like them, the distinction between Williamson’s spoken word and the momentary melodies can help clarify a track of endless ranting lists. The Mods aren’t trying to make pretty music, of course, and for every little sing-song there’s wheezing, coughing and a sickly beat wrestling with the tune (see “Arabia” in its entirety). But there’s something to be said for ‘Key Markets’ making its disillusion both loud and clear: the Mods are halfway famous now, but if you get this far through a career and the people you’re calling cunts still aren’t listening, maybe it’s time to give them an earworm.