boomkat: ...Lyrically taking aim at Arts Council/Trust-funded lightweights, capitalist realism, and the precarious insecurity of working class life, and set to a mix of rugged, lo-fi breaks, visceral electronics and textured field recordings, the record draws listeners perhaps uncomfortably close into Mike’s street-level worldview.Across 11 songs he grasps the pissy nettle of modern life on a low wage, oppressed by massive, unanswerable corporations and forced to work around a Tory logic that’s at Victorian levels of patronisation and disregard for social welfare - made all the more acute by the fact he hails from within hollering distance of the original slums and overcrowded housing that influenced Marx and Engels’ philosophy. He’s the articulate inheritor of generations of proud, necessary social resistance, the latest vessel for a spirit that runs from the Peterloo Massacre to Emeline Pankhurst, Mike Leigh and John Cooper Clarke.Most distinctively, purposefully enunciated in Mike’s vowel-stressing Manc accent, the lyrics observe a perpetually gloomy state of affairs with the same poetically rhyming meter, unflinching honesty and conviction that makes his live performances so transfixing. Opening with the rising rage of ‘Bleak Northern Roads’ where he zooms out from street-dealing scenes and increasing food prices, to the politics of whit hall, his voice steady but seething, Sam Weaver’s knackered breaks and atonal, slimy electronics bitterly underline the sentiment, using samples of archaic Monarchistic announcements to punctuate the fury leading into cranky highlights such as the hardcore ’89 style UK hip hop of ‘Breakneck Pace’ and ‘Cultural Capital’ - think The Criminal Minds before they went fast - while he excels at a form of modern folk reality in the narration and inclement, skeletal sonic scenery of ‘Modern Industry’, and the pranged dancehall noise torque and warning barbs of ‘Citizen 107’.