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If you mixed the lyrical blend of wit and wisdom, street smarts and quirk of Sleaford Mods with the sound of the first wave of punk, you know the stuff that was essentially power-pop with attitude rather than the bondage-trousered cliche it later became and then put a contemporary spin on things, slow it down, polish it up and serve in a tall glass, then you might end up with something close to this.
But if those old punk bands were bundles of rage spitting bile at the masses, No See Ums pulse more with distaste and dissatisfaction at the world around them and only feel the need to pour their thoughts out at their own reflection in the bathroom mirror rather than taking it to the masses.
They don’t want to smash the system or change the world; they are happy enough to stay home and not engage; the Weekend they have in mind is one of self-enforced exile and isolation. The world might be going to hell in a handbasket, but that doesn’t mean that they want to do anything about it. Others can wander around with t-shirts sporting political statements such as Not My Prime Minister. No See Ums are likelier to be sporting one that says Not My Problem.
This is the music of the man in the street, or it would be if the No See Ums didn’t make a habit of crossing the road to avoid the man in the street. And I don’t blame them.
It is refreshingly honest, punky indie, socially aware and slightly beliggerent, Weekend is a song that gets to the heart of how many of us feel today.
