an unlikely triumph of heart and humour

“Suck the farts from my fucking arse” – these are the immortal words reserved for Getdown Services’ haters, as revealed at their seemingly unlikely gig handpicked by Harry Styles for his recent Meltdown Festival. Said hate came primarily online “from people called Ian and Martin” who sought to gatekeep what “real music” might be when the buzzy Minehead-via-Brighton party-starters made a similarly surprise appearance on Later… With Jools Holland earlier this summer.

Two quite average-looking moustachioed men with a penchant for putting on one helluva show, performing topless and comedically poking at the more absurd moments of the mundane with songs about crisps and dog dribble, the recent NME cover stars have been accused of being something of a joke band. Is there much to laugh about on album number two?

Well, opener ‘Poor Bannister’ is a bluegrass finger-pickin’ ditty about spraying chunky vomit all over public transport, before ‘I Can’t Die Like That’ struts off the bus with a slow-burning glam swagger as childhood friends Josh Law and Ben Sadler wrestle with just trying to live without the over-complications of distraction, like taking a chainsaw to the Sycamore Gap (or poor Baby Oleg of Compare The Meerkat fame). Then all new muscles are flexed on ‘Probiotic’: a sludgy BRMC garage rock banger that speaks to album’s MO of having a word with yourself: “Your all-time low is my personal best, I’m clean-living with beans down my chest – come on!”

That self-questioning comes through on ‘The Radiator’, an LCD Soundsystem-indebted punk-rave banger about smashing up inanimate objects to make yourself feel big and find wins where you can. The warpath leads to ‘The Definitive Map’ spitting against the horrors of battery farming chicken and “playing potluck in pigsties with an overactive thyroid” in a provincial town, descending into a simple “YOU FUCKING BASTARD…TWAT”.

There’s plenty of heart, too. ‘Cha Cha Slide’ uses synthy atmospherics to revisit those childhood anxieties that stick around for life as Law recalls “I don’t want my mum but I do want someone who can tell me what to do”. ‘What’s On Your Mind’ is a dreamy dose of lo-fi schmaltzcore that sighs as life passes by, ‘Stop Living’ employs some subtle and bittersweet disco chops as the duo mourn the 9-5 grind leaving you “chewed up, spat out”, the sludgy riffage of ‘Lentils’ shuns fashionistas, and ‘No One Likes Me’ makes for electro-pop gathering of the harshest ruminations: “Is it a fool I’m playing, or is it just plain cruel?”

The sweet and glitchy nighttime R&B meets electronica of closer ‘600 Dance Lessons’ captures that very British sunrise melancholy that The Streets did so well in moments of reflection, here a man with “the voice of an angel, but no delight on the face of anyone, no wings, just an ache on the spot where my kidney stones grow”. The song and album end mid-thought on a tangent about Game Of Thrones, another distraction in the daily sea of doubt. ‘Massive Champion’ stands triumphant as a record, whether they’ve shaken off their lifelong hang-ups or not. Rather than let famous fans or the serotonin-inducing hedonism of their live shows push their sound into all-out silliness, the duo have honed their increased confidence into something more focussed and controlled, with nuance and left turns aplenty to match the daftness.

Getdown Services are not Sleaford Mods for the microbrew crowd or the Yard Act fit for a stag do, they are something of their own and something to be taken quite seriously. We could have done with a bit more of the party to beat the pity, but they’ve at least delivered one of the unlikeliest real pleasures of a bleak 2026, so suck on that.