Jason Williamson, 55, is the frontman for Sleaford Mods. He delivers ferocious commentary on politics and the music industry over producer/instrumentalist Andrew Fearn’s sparse, bass-heavy beats. Born in Grantham, Williamson formed Sleaford Mods in Nottingham in 2007. Their breakthrough came with 2013’s Austerity Dogs. They have been prolific ever since, releasing an album or an EP almost every year, with the last three making the top 10. The band traditionally offer £5 and £6 tour tickets “for people who are struggling” and, in 2026, some of their tour proceeds are going to War Child. A new album, The Demise of Planet X, is released in January.
You have talked about how your anger rises and boils as you walk on stage. Is that still true?
Yeah, I just get really upset with people. There’s various levels, various shades and, obviously, various reasons why. But the minute I get on stage, it allows me to experience the feelings and the reasons why I wrote these songs in the first place. I can’t stand insincere people. A lot of people believe they are sincere, but I just have my bullshit detectors set quite high most of the time. The performance does allow me to just take all of that out, because you can’t really do it in real life face to face with people, or online even. It’s just not healthy.
Off stage you’re married with two kids.
Yes, I have my daughter’s GCSE options evening later. She’s growing up really fucking quick. My kids are 10 and 14. They’re walking to school now, which has been a revelation. We’ve got time in the morning. We’re just chilling.
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As a critic of everything, what world would you build for your children?
Well, obviously, I wouldn’t like our country to be invaded. I wouldn’t like a tank to start coming down the street. But generally, there’s not a lot I would change. The world is what it is. When we say we want justice, harmony and peace, do we actually? I think peace is a more realistic thing, but justice and harmony? We are in conflict with the outside world, other people and ourselves all of the time. We are supposed to be in this state.
The new album sounds a little more optimistic.
I’m really proud of it. I think all the collaborations are spot on. This idea of working with other people means it’s no longer just fast beat rants. It’s lots of other things as well and we can keep pushing this further.
You’re in your fifties - your public soul-searching must be physically and emotionally exhausting. Iggy Pop and Lou Reed were as angry when they were young but couldn’t keep it going when they were your age. Is it difficult?
I was talking to Iggy Pop about this. He said he had it bad but Lou Reed had it worse, to the point where he couldn’t leave the house sometimes. [The anger] really depleted him. But Iggy Pop said sobriety, exercise and mindfulness helped. The reason I’m still going like I’m 32 is because of therapy, lots of exercise, sobriety and good people around me.
Do you ever get into fights?
The last fight I had was with my ex-brother-in-law, and my wife said it was like I was doggy paddling. I had about half a bottle of tequila, so I wasn’t good. Since then, I’ve been boxing a lot, so I would be better, but fighting has never left me feeling good afterwards. These days a lot of lads are learning lots of cage-fighting techniques, and the far right have these training gyms, so you’re getting a lot of weaponised young men, which alarms me.
What prompted the decision to go to therapy?
I had no choice. I couldn’t understand why I was doing certain things. I would use alcohol and cocaine to enter a consciousness that would leave me just sat there watching pornography. It got to a point where it’s like, why am I doing this?
Were there moments of revelation during therapy?
My first psychotherapist said that I had multiple experiences of trauma, one after the other, from the age of two up to about 14 or 15. Each of these experiences have contributed to quirks in my personality that make me do what I do. It’s not easy to track down and investigate, but it has given me a broad picture. Giving up alcohol made a big difference.
Do you ever worry you’ll slip back?
I got a small acting role in [the TV series] Landscapers; my character smoked, and they gave me cigarettes without nicotine. I put one in my hand for the first time in about seven years, and it’s as if my hand took over like the hand in The Addams Family. Cigarette, lighter, lit it, put it straight in my mouth. That made me think that a drink or a line of cocaine would be the same. It may get so I might have a glass of wine eventually. But for now, no.
It’s a mistake for any journalist to ask any musician for solutions. But what do you hope for?
I was talking to [the director and writer] Ben Wheatley the other day about his film A Field in England, set during the English civil war. He drew comparisons to the start of the civil war being the same as what we’re experiencing in this country now: the heated debates; the culture wars; the separatism. I don’t know how we can move forward… [but] I hope that, as a people, we can get past it.
It seems like you’re addressing that with lyrics like ‘the world’s changing. No, it ain’t, you’re just scared to death through hate.’
I think the obstacle is pain and fear. There’s been an acceleration in that over the last 15 years, both globally and in this country. People’s haemorrhaging of panic, anxiety, accusation and paranoia is contributing to it. Try to be resilient; try to resist; don’t fall into this pit of hopelessness all the time.
Sleaford Mods’ album The Demise of Planet X is released on 16 January through Rough Trade Records. Sleaford Mods tour the UK in February and March
Photograph by Antonio Olmos for The Observer