Description
Shame follow up their wildly acclaimed debut with a James Ford produced peek into the riddled mind of the bandrsquos frontman, Charlie Steen.nbspThere are moments on lsquoDrunk Tank Pinkrsquo where you almost have to reach for the sleeve to check this is the same band who made 2018rsquos lsquoSongs Of Praisersquo. Such is the jump Shame have made from the riotous postpunk of their debut to the sprawling adventurism and twitching anxieties laid out here.The South Londonerrsquos blood and guts spirit, that wink and grin of devious charm, is still present, itrsquos just that itrsquos grown into something bigger, something deeper, more ambitious and unflinchingly honest.The genius of lsquoDrunk Tank Pinkrsquo is how these lyrical themes dovetail with the music. Opener lsquoAlphabetrsquo dissects the premise of performance over a siren call of nervous, jerking guitars, its chorus thrown out like a beer bottle across a mosh pit.Songs spin off and lurch into unexpected directions throughout here, be it lsquoMarch Dayrsquos escalating aural panic attack or the shapeshifting darkness of lsquoSnow Dayrsquo. Therersquos a Berlin era Bowie beauty to the lovelorn lsquoHuman For A Minutersquo while closer lsquoStation Wagonrsquo weaves from a downbeat mooch into a souring, soul lifting climax in which Steen elevates himself beyond the clouds and into the heavens. Or at least thatrsquos what it sounds like. From the womb to the clouds sort of, Shame are currently very much in the pink.
