On Spare Ribs, Sleaford Mods prove once again that they're capable of not just surviving but thriving during difficult times. Largely written and recorded during the COVID-19 global pandemic, its songs are very much of the moment -- and what a moment. The paranoia and claustrophobia always lurking around the edges of the band's music only feel more urgent and relevant on "Out There," where the disease (whether it's COVID or hypocrisy) lurks around every corner, and "Top Room," which telegraphs the frustrations of families piled on top of each other in lockdown in its itchy beat and every time Jason Williamson exhales, "oh, f*ck this." Aside from an international health crisis, the continuing fallout of Brexit and Boris Johnson's tenure as Prime Minister provide plenty of grist for Williamson and Andrew Fearn's mill. "Short Cummings," a bass-heavy rant against Johnson's former Chief Adviser Dominic Cummings, was actually written months before he came under fire for breaching lockdown, reaffirming that Sleaford Mods' awareness of politicians' hypocrisy borders on the prophetic. While Fearn and Williamson's traditional minimalism still has a lot of impact -- "Elocution" and "I Don't Rate You" rival anything on Divide and Exit when it comes to ire and fire -- they spend just as much time on Spare Ribs branching out. Considering its title, the album is musically remarkably meaty by their standards, especially when compared to the bare-bones sounds of works like English Tapas. As on Eton Alive, the extra melody, color, and humor on these songs goes a long way towards animating their music. "Glimpses"' brightness approaches new wave, but like a fresh coat of paint on a crumbling building, it only makes the rot (in this case, consumerism) Williamson observes stand out even more starkly. Likewise, the punchy bass and synths on the title track give an extra weight to the duo's observations about the pandemic's earliest victims. However, the album's biggest change comes with the inclusion of two female guest vocalists who are more than capable of holding their own against Williamson's rasp. Amy Taylor of Aussie punks Amyl and the Sniffers helps him take on the poseurs on "Nudge It," while Billy Nomates lends her soulful style to the spooky "Mork & Mindy," a look back at the bad old days of Williamson's childhood in the 1970s and '80s that makes for one of Spare Ribs' standouts. Sleaford Mods capture the feeling of being holed up with a lifetime of memories in haunting fashion on "Fishcakes," which combines some of the album's richest imagery ("asbestos acorn trees hang high") with some of Williamson's most melodic vocals. Even at the album's bleakest, Sleaford Mods never sound completely beaten down. Not even a global pandemic and repeated lockdowns can crush their spirit, and Spare Ribs feels like a hearty, timely, and well-deserved two fingers up to the powers that be.