Shame - Drunk Tank Pink Review
Drunk Tank Pink sees Shame taking the anxiety of the last three years and cathartically pushes this into their music, resulting in a record that feels especially important right now.
Drunk Tank Pink sees Shame questioning the nature of their identity. Written after a heavy period of touring, frontman Charlie Steen came back to his calm pink room feeling deflated. Suddenly, touring and routine were over. The return to normality and a newly found free schedule had become uncomfortable. This abrupt change in lifestyle drastically effected Steen. The relentless nature of touring was over and for the first time in a while Steen was alone with himself. Finding the isolation difficult, he would continue to chase a constant need for celebration.
During this time, Steen did plenty of self-reflection, coming to grips with what he and bandmates had missed out on due to their relentless lifestyle. This in turn left Shame with a crisis of self, pushing them into a deep search for meaning. Bearing in mind the band were still teenagers during the release of their debut, a lot has changed for them in a short space of time. On their sophomore release, Shame takes this self-reflection and they vocalise it. There’s desperation in this album that wasn’t in their debut. Staring in to the abyss, Drunk Tank Pink serves as a cacophony of sound and angst in an effort to counterattack the demons within.
There’s abrasive immediacy to this record. With opener ‘Alphabet’ the word explosive doesn’t even begin to cut it. The nervous twitching of guitars and jarring vocal chants of lead vocalist Charlie Steen initiate the anxiety-riddled surprisingly cathartic nature of the record. Lyrically, theirs a bleakness here that stays prevalent on much of the album. “Are you waiting to feel good?” seems to be a rhetorical question for the band themselves.
‘Born in Luton’ has obvious nods to the afro-pop polyrhythms that influenced Talking Head’s new wave classic ‘Remain In Light’. This track sees Shame’s newfound musical experimentation at its strongest, bringing freshness to their sound that seemed void on their debut. Lyrically, this is one of the more harrowing tracks. Steen’s repetition of “I’ve been waiting outside for all of my life and now I’ve got to the door there’s no one inside” make for an interesting comparison to the music industry and the place the band has found themselves in after the initial success of their debut.
‘Snow Day’ is one of the most majestic tracks on the record. Splintered guitar passages weave around the disjointed drums and chunky bass. Steen’s vocals seem to be at his best on this track. Lyrically, Steen is at his strongest here too. “All mountains crumble and turn to dust” works so well because, like a lot of the imagery on this record, there’s a sense of inescapable destruction and realism. This realism continues through the lyrics “I live deep within myself just like everyone else”, almost seeming annoyed with others but mainly directing this annoyance inwards. Musically, the outro to this track is superb. The flourishes of guitars fluttering between one another and almost 60s west coast influenced oos and ahs harmonising with one another give this track shocking depth.
Producer James Ford’s (Arctic Monkeys, Haim, Gorillaz) work on this record is colossal, breathing power and strength into Shame’s grimly optimistic fire. This can be heard loudest on ‘Human, for a Minute’. This was the first song written for the record and coincidentally Ford’s personal favourite. There’s an anxiety to this track that seems to have rampantly infected the rest of the record.
Ultimately, ’Station Wagon’ ends the album in a spiritual way. With Steen’s calmed voice painting images, like gazing up at the clouds, and the ever-building droning textures, Shame create an ascension-like quality to the ending of this track. This forward-motion feeds into the themes of this record. Finally at the end, after being able to release the pain that some of the tracks on this album represent, are Steen and fellow band mates allowed this deep cathartic moment of release. The beautiful piano melody that plays and leads out the chorus has a bizarre melancholic happiness to it. Which in itself seems to summarise this album. There’s fragility here, and it seems Drunk Tank Pink shows they don’t have the answers but they do have the fight.
There’s a lot to unpack with this record. Drunk Tank Pink sees Shame taking the anxiety of the last three years and cathartically pushes this into their music, resulting in a record that feels especially important right now. There’s bleakness in the themes and lyrics behind this record but it’s the sense of realism and the intensity of the music that create a profound therapeutic experience. Shame have grown a lot in three years. Though they don’t seem to have the answers, their quest for truth seems abounding.
Drunk Tank Pink takes the swagger of their debut and expertly amplifies what makes them so important. There’s an overwhelming anxious energy that runs through the veins of this album. Steen’s self-imposed isolation and profound search for self flows through the music like its bloodstream. The volatile nature of this record and noticeable lyrical and sonic experimentations pay off massively. This record sees Shame break through the monotony of the current post-punk UK music scene. Sonically, listening to this album is the closest I’ve felt to being at a live gig in the last 10 months. Get some headphones on and give this record a listen!
