Gig Review: Shame At Brixton Windmill
A homecoming for the history books that promises an even more magnificent future.
“We used to play here on a very different kind of Wednesday, to an appreciative crowd of three”. As we reach a pause in the non-stop barrage of new material, frontman Charlie Steen takes a moment to appreciate how things have changed for the South London luminaries. Eager to thank booker Tim Perry for his continued championing and wish a very happy birthday to landlady Kathleen, the beguiling singer insists there is an appreciation of the past on a night very much looking towards the future.
Shame, despite their fame, are no strangers to last minute visits to the haunts where they made their name. Fans have learnt to attentively scour London’s gig itinerary for mentions of hastily arranged shows by ‘Almost Seamus’, knowing the moniker promises a night of intimate and splendid chaos. Despite a relentless touring schedule off the back of a third album that grazed the Top 20, the band have still found the time to retread the steps that brought them to their current heights.
The evening kicks off with an assault on the senses (in the very best of ways). Black Fondu wastes no time with niceties, storming through a set of industrial rap that is exhausting just to spectate. Howling about his dad from the depths of the crowd, each song is a whirlwind through blasted and glitched production that never once sits in the comfort zone. Despite a skeletal online presence, the experimental rapper knows how to capture your attention with the sheer velocity of his performance. With more shows here and at The George Tavern around the corner, expect an already burgeoning reputation to accelerate over the coming months.
Cigs quaffed and drinks done, it's time to spoil the worst kept secret of the night. “We haven’t rehearsed the transitions yet”, admits Steen, as they storm through eight new songs with the ramshackled warmth that seeing unpolished material for the first time brings. Aside from the closing double bill of ‘Concrete’ and ‘One Rilza’, this night is designed to look ahead to what lies next for the South London post punks, not that you would know it from the rapturous reception the new material receives from the sold out crowd.
If this first glimpse is anything to go by, then we will soon be enjoying a band that has expertly zeroed in on their core appeal. Riotous but earnest, the new material comes across as a distillation of the charming and relatable passion that has taken Shame this far. An organ synth crops up to much fanfare on one of the more mellow new introductions, showcasing a softer side to the band that is rarely given the merit it deserves. But it is the gut-felt heart of the fast-paced punk numbers where we see them at their uplifting best.
These new songs confirm that Shame’s journey is still nascent. Without losing the approachable edge that gave them their name, they have continued to build their sound to the point where these songs can stand with the best of them, fittingly so with a summer that beckons festival headline slots and sharing a stadium stage with The Foo Fighters.
They perform with a welcoming anger that brings you in rather than shouting you down. They want you to believe with them, and the genuine warmth that underpins the angst endears you to join the party. Ultimately, it’s five lads from down the road having the time of their lives. And being part of that for an evening takes some beating.