Sleaford Mods Announce New EP

Sleaford Mods announce new T.C.R. EP, share new video for title-track

Nottingham UK, duo Sleaford Mods are comprised of Jason Williamson (vocals + lyrics) and Andrew Fearn (music). After a short break following last year’s release of their album Key Markets, Rough Trade Records has announced their new EP T.C.R., containing five songs song which will be available on October 14th digitally and on 12” vinyl. Check out the title track – and its brand-new music video – for the first time, below.

Jason Williamson discusses T.C.R.: “The idea behind the T.C.R. video was to show and use the actual 1980’s toy racing kit in its original environment which would of most probably been the living room floor for most kids at that time. It’s a pretty crap device and I thought it married perfectly to the idea of life’s (at times) rotating dross. The narration/vocal over the song is just that, an account of a bloke reacting to what he feels is a routine laden existence by ‘escaping’ for the night to the pub only to realize this is also a limited experience and in turn all options kind of merge into a circular experience of never ending repetition that he tries to navigate.”

T.C.R. EP tracklisting:
1. T.C.R.
2. I Can Tell
3. Britain Thirst
4. Dad’s Corner
5. You’re A Nottshead

TCR LYRICS

Total control racing

I was supposed to being goin out.

That took ages. Kids are ardcore ‘arent they? they don’t mess about, Madhouse, Chit chat. Duties. More nappies, then I managed to get out, the sharp night whistled around my coat as I motioned up to the main road. The wails of ya off spring behind ya cracking windows, its hard innit, when you plan to do something but at that moment you realize, its not quite right, not really something you should be doing tonight. World before me, a few hellos, expectant mums with blokes that I know. The bus whirred, 3.50 all day ticket but I knew deep down I wasn’t gunna use it, later!!.

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Total Control Racing
TCR
Total Control Racing

I arranged my coat on the front seat and blended in with the low lighting
People on their way out too, talking. Everyone still looks like ena sharples and ray reardon, people need to move on, that fifties look can do one.
Elvis has definitely left the fucking building, I got a wine, large, shoved it down me, awful. I eyed the 5.8, i thought about it, I thought about his face when I asked if he had any riocca, he didn’t like it, don’t look at me like that, like ya think I’m some wine twat, I like it, I sit in the house a lot, eventually you get an idea. Little shit, go and listen to some fuckin garage punk you pointy little tit

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Total Control Racing
TCR
Total Control Racing

The sofa sank, I couldn’t relax, I felt cramped but luckily the table next to me got up and left and apart from the 8 empty pint glasses they left on the table I thought it was the better bet, more upright, I ain’t slouching, I’m not a beatnik, although this pub did call for that kind of angle. I hate going out. Going out is for young people, I cant sit and enjoy a drink, I want the lot, have you got any numbers? And, how much as he got?
the trappings of luxury can’t save you from the nail biting boredom of Repetitive brain injury, the injury of your useless mind, stuck to the track, clinging onto years of “that’s not yours, that’s mine, gimme it” Total Control Racing, TCR! Going round and round, under the bridges, slowing down, it’s all about technique, hand shandy chic, under 5 seconds flat, the tragedy of the male-less fuckin man

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Total Control Racing
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Total Control Racing
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Total Control Racing
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Total Control Racing

Total Control Racing