Suche:shapes 11

For their second installment, the Chateau Chepere crew brings on board legendary producer Stephan Laubner under his STL moniker, with four time warping pieces of music. With his distinctive and intricate sonic palette, Laubner extracts from his hardware different musical colors and shapes to produce singular atmospheres. Opening up the EP is Fly Fly, an epic 11 min minimal house trip full of tension and excitement, followed by Eargrind, an eerie, laid back Detroit leaning ballad. On the flip is Light Up, a spaced out, playful and bittersweet number that will revitalize any hazy after-hours dancefloor. Closing up the EP is Unlike Dislike, a quirky, jacking and mischievous techno workout for the packed club. This diverse ep will pull the listeners and dancers into Laubner's multifaceted, low key but captivating universe.

Like only the most gifted storytellers, Matisyahu spins the rare kind of stories that simultaneously enlighten and enthral and expand the audience’s sense of possibility. On his eponymous new album, the Grammy Award-nominated singer/songwriter/rapper shares his most autobiographical work to date, merging that personal revelation with a shapeshifting collision of reggae and hip-hop and boldly inventive pop. Produced by Salt Cathedral (a Brooklyn-based duo comprised of Colombian musicians Juliana Ronderos and Nicolas Losada), the result is an undeniably transformative album, one that invites both intense introspection and unbridled celebration. About “Chameleon” On the album’s dancehall-infused lead single “Chameleon,” Matisyahu presents a potent piece of self-reflection spiked with equal parts idiosyncratic wordplay and warmly expressed wisdom (“Turn an evil eye inverted to let the light in/Illuminate the evil till dem heart get sizzlin’”). “Chameleon” Quote “Chameleon has two facets. On the one hand it is able to blend with its surroundings in order to survive without sticking out. On the other hand is the shedding of its coat in order to grow. The story line continues here as our protagonist must learn both the necessity to blend in it at times but also to continue to grow and change.”

For more than a decade now, Fleck E.S.C. has marked himself out as one of the most playful and prolific producers in the electro game. Across dozens of releases for labels including Bass Agenda and Science Cult, the France-born, Japan-based artist has made his name through a production style which balances limber beats with exploratory textural work.

Fleck E.S.C. debuted on Central Processing Unit in 2018 with the Discrete Opinion EP. Now, after stopping by the Sheffield label last year on a Silicon Scally remix job, Fleck E.S.C. delivers his second EP for CPU in the form of Rough Silk. The record's intriguing title proves an apt introduction to this four-track affair. These cuts are at once sleek and abrasive, anchored by robotechnic machine-funk grooves yet also full of strange, shifting shapes.

The opening title-track expertly sets out Rough Silk's stall. Heralded by gurgling synths and all manner of whirring percussive tones, 'Rough Silk' blossoms around the minute mark with the introduction of a wickedly buoyant lead synth. This is music at once visceral and full of mystery, the sound of wending through the back alleys, and the feeling carries through to the following cut 'Hat in the Cat' - as the synth pads spool out overhead, the machine-funk snap of the beat has an almost aquatic quality that links it back to Drexciya.

Much like 'Rough Silk', the record's first B-side 'Faking Sweet' also shifts gears. The opening strains of the track seem to be preparing for another insistent, expansive broken-beat pulse, but it stiffens its neck around ninety seconds in. Programmed drums whirr around a jittery machine-gun bass while discordant synths pull at the edges of the track, all of which brings a strong dystopian energy that increases further as the percussion sounds become increasingly bug-eyed.

After so much excitement, 'Digger Play' closes out the EP with a softer touch. There's still plenty of low-slung bounce to the beat, but the track runs a little slower, and there's a warm wistfulness in the synths which gives 'Digger Play' a painterly, almost poetic feel. However, while it may take its foot off the gas, the production here is as deft as it is everywhere else on Rough Silk.

With new EP Rough Silk, electro whizz Fleck E.S.C. brings the sort of casual mastery to proceedings that has characterised his career to date.

RIYL: Silicon Scally, Jensen Interceptor, Annie Hall

We finally made it: BEWITH100LP! And what better way for a re-issue label to celebrate such a landmark catalogue number than to give it to a record of new music. We couldn’t resist when the artist is Official Be With Family Member Kenny Dickenson and when the music is his lovely, lovely score to French-Vietnamese artist Mai Hua's 2020 documentary film “Les Rivières”. If you enjoy the more minimal, intimate piano of the likes of Nils Frahm or John Carroll Kirby’s solo work, you’re certain to fall for this beautiful album.

Taking six years to make, Mai’s film explores what happened when she brought her dying grandmother to France, pulling together four generations of women from the same family. Kenny’s score accompanies all the pretty things, sad things, dirty, beautiful, happy, broken and reborn moments of these women’s experiences.

The whole score is built around delicate, sparkling piano motifs. At times they’re joined by cello and complemented with ambient chords and other flourishes. It’s a very particular palette that Kenny and Mai established early on, as Kenny explains: “We had agreed on a particular sonic aesthetic early on in the process - to use specific and relatively minimal instrumentation, reflecting the intimacy of the picture. So piano and cello were quite prominent in instructing a sense of space and immediacy. Until I had to get the junkyard percussion out… ”

When it comes to describing the end results, Kenny’s happy to wear his influences on his sleeve:

“When the director and I sat down for the creative meetings early in the process, we watched ‘Wolf Children’, a Japanese animation film by Mamoru Hosoda. The amazing soundtrack by Masakatsu Takagi was a launching point for me and thereafter I leaned into more modern classical composers - Reich, Sakamoto, Glass as well as Jon Hassell’s Fourth World output. Richard Reed Parry’s ‘Music for Heart and Breath’ was a good early touchstone for me and Mark Hollis’ sparse, considered and deliberate approach was a constant presence. Also labels like Ghostly, ASIP and the ubiquitous Erased Tapes should probably get a nod here too…”

We’d even suggest there’s the occasional Yann Tiersen moment in there too.

Out of sheer necessity the collaboration between Kenny and Mai continued beyond this initial creative direction. With Kenny speaking neither French nor Vietnamese, Mai acted as translator, a process that naturally lead to discussing the film beyond just what was being said in the footage. Mai herself explains just how successful this relationship felt to her: “Music plays a very important role in all my work, particularly in Les Rivières. I cried every time Kenny sent me a new composition. I felt understood in a way that words cannot describe. It was absolutely magical and I am so happy if this music can make your soul vibrate too.”

Kenny composed much of the music in London, at the same time that Mai was shooting and editing. As the film took shape and the music also evolved, another challenge presented itself when Kenny relocated to Los Angeles part way through, resulting in Arnulf Lindners beautiful cello taking on new shapes- multi sampled, played and manipulated by Kenny into new compositions.

What Kenny has put together for the film score release is definitely a “soundtrack LP”, with the music arranged to work as a proper album in its own right that should be listened to from start to finish. Indeed the album also includes a new piece “Pour Marthe” that Kenny composed in memory of Mai’s grandmother who died after the film was finished.

Kenny’s personal highlight is also ours: “When I listen back to the album as a whole now, I never want part II of the Trilogy (Belles Larmes) to end. I have fond memories of recording it and I love how the dynamic of the piece gradually evolves from falling on the ‘1 and the 3’ to the ‘1 and the 2’. It’s so short and sweet, I keep wanting it to last for longer. But it’s kind of perfect as it is.”

Pretty much our sentiment for the album as a whole.

Running a record label means we often get asked advice about pressing a record. In this case the music was too good not to offer to release it ourselves. To Kenny, having the Les Rivières score on vinyl also feels like the final part of the project.

“It’s a beautiful thing to have it on vinyl. It’s quite an intimate soundtrack so there’s something really perfect about being able to listen to it on that format. When I was a kid, my Uncle Pat who used to work at Woolworths would visit and bring random records from their record department over to us. I can remember listening to “Theme From Exodus” by Ernest Gold. I had no idea what it was about but the imagery it conjured up when listening to that record was just mind blowing to me at that age. Soundtracks can have their own life on vinyl I think, and removed from their original context is this unique format for reinvention. So I’m excited that people who haven’t (and have for that matter) seen the film can have that experience.”

This might not be a re-issue, but the Les Rivières film score album has still been given the full Be With treatment. The vinyl has been mastered by Simon Francis (under Kenny’s ever-watchful eye/ear, of course), cut by Pete Norman and pressed at Record Industry. The sleeve follows the film’s poster and other promotional material, including Lucile Gomez’s almost magical illustration.

We’re under no illusions that many people reading this will have seen “Les Rivières”, but that doesn’t really matter when it comes to listening to the score. Just on its own, Kenny’s music still captures the robustness and the delicacy of lives lived.

In the small inland town of São Domingos on Cape Verde's Santiago Island, The Ano Nobo Quartet delivers a fresh take on Koladera, a guitar-driven, subtly rhythmic sound of a lighter spirit. Their sound tells a global story with Cape Verde at its center, a creole melting pot in the middle of the Atlantic attracting the best from four continents: hypnotic, haunting Koladera guitars inflected with twangs of Salsa Cubano, Spanish Flamenco, Brazilian Samba Canção, Jamaican Reggae, Argentine Tango, Mozambican Marrabenta, and finished with a dash of Black American Blues. It's all here. Absent percussion, the quartet's sound still drips with rhythm. Rich, raw acoustic music you can dance to.

This album was recorded in three locations on Santiago Island: at homes, by the sea, and on the volcanic hills of Cape Verde. Each location used a mobile recording studio equipped with different mics placed near and far to capture both the Spanish and Chinese-made guitars and the natural environment that shapes the saudade, a melancholic longing, of Koladera. Each space has its own atmosphere heard in the interludes.

A double LP pressed at 45 RPM for an even silkier listening experience and packaged in a luxurious matte-laminated gatefold with a high quality 12-page booklet along with a hardcover bookcase CD with a 24-page booklet.

H- side is etched
The American cable-television industry exploded in the 1980s, pushing broadcasts of diverse programming and emissions of low-laying cultures into homes. Community stations piggybacked on the digital developments of the time, extending their existence through telephony and broadcast a iliates. For those growing up in this time, in locations such as New York City, the localized communications beamed into their homes exposed them to an impressionable array of disparate sounds and visions.
Move into the 1990s and New York was filled to the brim of emergent cultures drawing from this ebullition of communication. From Rammellzee’s shapeshifting to the late Judy Russell and Frank and Karen Mendez’s Nu Groove imprint fusing reggae, poetry and house, nascent ideas emanated from the city walls, from within stores such as Sonic Groove store and on VHS releases such as Stakker’s The Evil Acid Baron Show, a legendary technicolor psychedelic trip along the wildest frontiers of acid house. As scenes expanded and identities developed, such individuals weather the events of the visceral now, expressing themselves right into an unpredictable future.
Function’s long career has seen him uncover a vast range of sonic identities, a mainstay through house, techno and industrial with collaborations with the likes of Regis, Damon Wild alongside his highly influential Infrastructure imprint. With influences deeply tied to pop art, rave and gay scenes, and early memories of block-parties emitting Kraftwerk and Strafe, he found himself seeking out the undercover illegal nights of the 90s on a quest of sexual unearthing, mixing the ever-yearning escapology mission of disco with the influential DJ sets of Jeff Mills.
For his new album Existenz, he marks a clear step away from the corporeal techno of his recent releases. Pivoting around themes of religion, sexuality, trauma and healing, it is a work expansive and celebratory, a clear liberation from a deeply internalized past. Formed from a collection of recordings made in a period from late 2016 to mid 2019, Existenz takes the form of a creative outburst in reaction to a number of traumas - recent, childhood and throughout Function’s life. Life partner Stefanie Parnow assisted the production process in its entirety, providing inspiration, spiritual healing and featuring vocal contributions.
Cosmic synths soar and swoop in ‘Pleasure Discipline’ through towering stacks of rhythm that stutter and creak to a halt before rebooting, a firm robotic response to human intervention. ‘Zahlensender’ reflects a spatial tetris of urban life, as digitalization set within an XYZ matrix confronts the sprawling city. Constant arpeggiated meditations echo synaptic transmissions, e ecting a dissolution of boundaries. ’The Approach’ recalls the unification of the self, a state of delirium non-subjective and smooth, as all connections and functions give way to simple intensities of feeling, crossing the threshold into spirituality. ’Golden Dawn’, featuring Stefanie Parnow, marks a further elevation of dubbed-out euphoria, as once more positive rays emerge. His ode to the effortless short-trip urban navigation 'Kurzstrecke' finds Function in motion, upfront and bold, snapshots of conversation and flickers of light. 'Ertrinken' finds metallic bass jabs swamping snipped synthetic voices, with hidden stores of emotion set as a nod to the history of vocoders as a tool for encrypted military communication. House icon Robert Owens features on 'Growth Cycle' and 'Be', entrenching a celebratory atmosphere over Function's clubwise leanings. Closing track 'Downtown 161' reflects the unmistakeable filtered and squashed interjections of television, and sampled dance vocals - a sound for the curious, dreamers and dancers.
With Existenz, Function reveals an essential body of work, spread over 4LP - thought experiments on the role of identity and spirituality after a lifetime of upheaval and trauma. Leading up until the release date, Function will undertake an album promo tour with select dates - A/V shows at Berlin Atonal and Rural festival in Japan, and three dates as part of his Bassiani residency.

Ajo Sunshine (pronounced “Ahh-Ho”) is heralded by
an alarming horn ensemble, stabbing with the dramatic
urgency of a killer’s theme in a midnight movie. It’s a
jarring but appropriate entry point for this brilliantly blasted
listen, an array of exquisitely sharp edges punctuated by
kaleidoscopic respites of throbbing warmth and surprising
tenderness. J.R.C.G. (Justin R. Cruz Gallego)’s previous
work with Seattle’s excellent Dreamdecay may foreground
the broad strokes here, but he’s pushed things way outward
in terms of his sonic palette. Abutting field recordings
captured from rodeos off Ajo Way, a stretch of highway
that leads one westward out of Tucson Arizona directly into
the sun, both acoustic instruments and gleaming walls
of synthetic noise are framed in dour and dissonant chord
shapes, crackling with overdriven drum mics and seasick
waves of distortion. It’s homage that plays out like a
collage, a dream switching from station to station, a series
of dedications broadcast on late night radio. All pin-hole
size images from scenes never seen whole, strung together
in but one version of complete, all making for a dazzling
listen.

Over the course of five records to date, JUNO Award-winning Toronto rapper Shad has used an array of old-school tools to tackle modern problems, addressing the indignities and absurdities of our world through a shapeshfiting melange of boom-bap breaks, dusty soul samples, jazzy improvisation, and 10 dollar words rolled into thousand-dollar rhymes. But after weaving his myriad musical and philosophical interests into a narrative socio-political song cycle—2018’s A Short Story About a War—Shad began building his sixth record, TAO, from a much simpler concept: an image of a circle. Though, in true Shad fashion, he saw something much more profound within its basic round boundaries.

“The thing that inspired this record was this image in my mind of a circle, but it’s getting fragmented, and then the pieces start floating away from each other,” he explains. “And that felt to me like a picture of ourselves as individuals. If you think of our humanity as one whole, there’s all these different aspects of that, whether that’s work, or our relationship to the land, or our relationship to the transcendent, or our relationship to our bodies, or to our inner child?”

SEX was composed during the formation of Imhof’s art show of the same name, previously exhibited at Tate Modern, London, The Art Institute of Chicago and forthcoming at Castello di Rivoli, Italy, this September. Imhof, Douglas and Bultheel, reworked the songs from how they appeared in the exhibition ‘SEX’. The result is a compelling record that acts as an imaginative accompaniment to the ‘SEX’ performances, as well as standing alone as a progressive collection of contemporary compositions.

SEX references punk, industrial and grunge, and boldly juxtaposes these forms with music of the classical and baroque period. The album combines classical formals and orchestration with vocals that are rooted in subcultural traditions, thus beautifully overdrawing and overwriting these forms with the composer’s own. Harpsichord and oboe are combined with distorted electric guitar, or exuberant string ensembles with heavy industrial drums.

The amalgamation of genres contained in the album was also integral to the choreography of SEX, where walzes and tangos were contrasted with stage diving, slam dancing and moshpits. What resulted was a surreal ballroom, loaded with desire and aggression. In the same vein, the record fearlessly shapeshifts, blends genres and styles evoking an impressive array of moods. Oscillating between fragility and flamboyance, Imhof and Douglas’ versatile voices reinvent themselves from one song to the next, while singing songs of love and hate.

The last song on Sex is ended by a quote of the band LOW, `All you Pretty People, you`re all gonna die`. This ambiguous moment, a prophecy sung in Douglas’ vibrating baritone voice, rattles the listener despite the mundane truth of the statement. This complexity is reflected in the album itself, allowing for an unusual multiplicity of emotions and interpretations with impressive depth and dynamism.

The album is mixed & engineered by Ville Haimala and mastered by Rashad Becker, featuring design by ZAK Group and photography by Nadine Fraczcowski. All tracks by Anne Imhof, Eliza Douglas & Billy Bultheel, track 6* by Eliza Douglas & Ville Haimala.

This much acclaimed Cyprus-based trio return with a thrilling fourth album.
The record pushes their trademark Mediterranean sonics into a deep
psychedelic and avant-folk direction.
A danceable fever storm of stringed instruments, multi-layered singing and
trombone-driven low end.Night is when strange things happen. When shapes
shift and blur. When it’s hard to know what’s real and what’s illusion. Night...
is the time of the imagination. For Cyprus’s Monsieur Doumani, those hours of
blackness have lured them in a very different direction for their fourth album,
Pissourin.

Mondo, in partnership with MegaRecords, is excited to present a 20th anniversary pressing of the greatest debut album by a band that technically doesn't actually exist.

Julien Sénélas, Jérôme Vassereau and Soia present a new version of In C, Terry Riley's seminal work : a musical interpretation with two modular synthesizers (11 oscillators) and a graphic interpretation of the original score (53 shapes). Composed in 1964 by Terry Riley, In C is considered as the founding work of the minimalist movement. Like the 11 acoustic instruments that can be heard on the most famous version recorded in 1968, 11 oscillators from two modular synthesizers are used here. The illustrator and visual artist Soia has created an alphabet of shapes, which represents each of the 53 musical cells that make up In C. A visual and electronic reinterpretation of this evolving composition, among the most accessible and generous of contemporary music.

With his seventh studio album, Shapes of the Fall, Piers Faccini, pursues his passion for the kind of cross-cultural dialogues that have long been heard on Mediterranean shores throughout the centuries, bridging southern Europe with the Near East and Africa. Although the songs are written and sung in English, the musical influences in Shapes of the Fall draw heavily on Faccini's own Mediterranean ancestry, creating a musical voyage whose geography varies from song to song, crossing multiple frontiers with his voice over the course of the journey, from the snow tipped anglo-american Folk registers of songs like Paradise Fell or Together Forever Everywhere to the eerie desert blown notes of Middle Eastern or north African modes in tracks like Firefly or Dunya. Ruin or repair and hope or despair are the album's parallel narratives and if shapes of the fall are the myriad endangered forms that make up the mosaic of our environmental collapse, the descent, Faccini sings, is of our doing or undoing. ''Bring me my home back'' the chorus of the album's emblamatic opening song They Will Gather No Seed is not then, the singer's personal cry for a home but the animal lament of innumerable species on the brink of extinction. Faccini who has previously collaborated with cellist Vincent Segal for their 2014 duo album Songs of Time Lost has collaborated over the years with musicians far and wide in search of musical dialogue such as Ballake Sissoko, Ibrahim Maalouf or Jasser Haj Youssef. Two exceptional voices feature on the album; Californian singer-songwriter Ben Harper, a collaborator from his 2005 album, Tearing Sky and Moroccan singer and master of the trance traditions known as Gnawa, Abdelkebir Merchane. The album was co-produced by Piers Faccini and Fred Soulard.

Master craftsman James Welburn’s new LP, Sleeper in the Void, marks the 50th Miasmah release.The six years after his monumental debut have bred six tracks Welburn brings to fruition with the help of past co-conspirators from the Norwegian underground scene - Tomas Järmyr (Motorpsycho, Zu, Barchan), Hilde Marie Holsen (Hubro Records), and vocal artist Juliana Venter (W/V, Phil Winter).

On Sleeper in the Void, Welburn expands the domain of his sound, unveiling surprises until the very end of the album’s 36 minute playtime. While the character of the record is unmistakably his own, the tracks veer into many different territories, including a banging foray to the dancefloor.

The LP begins slowly with Raze, where Järmyr’s ritualistic cymbals introduce layers of Welburn’s signature sculpted bass drones and noise, building into a heart-wrenching epic of a track. This is perhaps the closest we ever get to Hold - Welburn’s previous LP. Falling from Time immediately surprises with it’s subdued mechanical techno beat, stark and cold as a glacier. Welburn’s texture-work is the star of the show, creating curious nooks and crannies of drone adorned with eerie melodies straight out of oblivion. This sense of wonder shines through to the album’s title track as well, where Welburn and Järmyr build another patient, echoing, and deeply cinematic piece, the drum patterns slowly shifting around a metallic hum that evokes the vision of church bells, ringing out under tonnes of seawater.

Sleeper in the Void feels like a story in two parts, rising lethargically, but with gargantuan power. The second begins with the momentous In and out of Blue, where Juliana Venter’s disembodied, spectral dirge takes center stage among the furious drums and bassy riffs, reaching a full crescendo with seconds to go. Parallel marks a release - Hilde Marie Holsen’s nostalgic soundscapes, pristine as glass, meeting the distant thunder of Welburn’s strings on the horizon. And finally, Fast Moon ends the record in a most surprising way - a tribal industrialized banger, complete with vile distorted beats and every other spice in demand on a blackened dancefloor.

Welburn’s Sleeper in the Void is a generous shapeshifter. Every inch of its soundwave breathes emotion and imagery - an invitation to take a dive and linger.

Tape / Cassette

"Like water drops, gently hovering, slowly bursting one by one, reassembling themselves simultaneously." An imagery that shaped this shining debut album "klondike" by hanisii - a mysteriously operating artist who has been flying under the radar for half a decade now yet scattering some highly unique re-interpretations via Soundcloud.

After a no-contact-no-contract-deal with Rico Puestel about remixing and editing his music back in 2016 and 2017 (working out both stunningly and skillfully), it took three years until this album at hand emerged out of the blue. Adapted to the circumstances, Rico Puestel constructed a way of presenting this specialty item appropriately on his large-scale project "Time In The Special Practice Of Relativity": A "slight bit" beyond the usual, showcasing the entire album on a limited cassette tape together with an exclusive SD card, carrying its digital audio version + bonus material.

As one might cynically state that God created music, the devil the ones writing about it, it feels right to keep it short and simple about the album itself here: Setting the scene itself with an intro and outro of genuine beauty (letting even an old broadcasting signal sound like those multifarious water drops of elegancy), everything in between profoundly passes through the depths of electronic onomatopoeia in nine diverse yet coherent and organic shapes, melting the groovy energy of House music with a pervasive serenity and clearness of Techno aesthetics.

While "klondike" allows itself to only raise the singular claim of wanting to get listened to, the scent of a future classic might be floating around the ether...

LTD. CRYSTAL CLEAR VINYL

THE LAST EXIT is the fifth studio album from Still Corners. With the shimmering desert noir sound the band has become known for, THE LAST EXIT takes you on a hypnotic journey, one filled with dilapidated towns, mysterious shapes on the horizon, and long trips that blur the line between what's there and not there. Greg says, "We found something out there in the desert - something in the vast landscapes that went on forever." THE LAST EXIT consists of eleven beautifully crafted songs with organic instrumentation, clean-toned guitar, spacious drums and the smoky croon of Tessa Murray. Album highlights include "The Last Exit", "White Sands" and "Shifting Dunes" all of which evoke the vast space of the desert and rolling unconcerned skies.

Shame follow up their wildly acclaimed debut with a James Ford-produced peek into the riddled mind of the band's frontman, Charlie Steen. There are moments on Drunk Tank Pink where you almost have to reach for the sleeve to check this is the same band who made 2018's Songs Of Praise. Such is the jump Shame have made from the riotous post-punk of their debut to the sprawling adventurism and twitching anxieties laid out here. The South Londoner's blood and guts spirit, that wink and grin of devious charm, is still present, it's just that it's grown into something bigger, something deeper, more ambitious and unflinchingly honest. The genius of Drunk Tank Pink is how these lyrical themes dovetail with the music. Opener Alphabet 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 March Day's escalating aural panic attack or the shapeshifting darkness of Snow Day. There's a Berlin era Bowie beauty to the lovelorn Human For A Minute while closer Station Wagon weaves from a downbeat mooch into a souring, soullifting climax in which Steen elevates himself beyond the clouds and into the heavens. Or at least that's what it sounds like. From the womb to the clouds (sort of), Shame are currently very much in the pink.

Shame follow up their wildly acclaimed debut with a James Ford-produced peek into the riddled mind of the band's frontman, Charlie Steen. There are moments on Drunk Tank Pink where you almost have to reach for the sleeve to check this is the same band who made 2018's Songs Of Praise. Such is the jump Shame have made from the riotous post-punk of their debut to the sprawling adventurism and twitching anxieties laid out here. The South Londoner's blood and guts spirit, that wink and grin of devious charm, is still present, it's just that it's grown into something bigger, something deeper, more ambitious and unflinchingly honest. The genius of Drunk Tank Pink is how these lyrical themes dovetail with the music. Opener Alphabet 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 March Day's escalating aural panic attack or the shapeshifting darkness of Snow Day. There's a Berlin era Bowie beauty to the lovelorn Human For A Minute while closer Station Wagon weaves from a downbeat mooch into a souring, soullifting climax in which Steen elevates himself beyond the clouds and into the heavens. Or at least that's what it sounds like. From the womb to the clouds (sort of), Shame are currently very much in the pink.

Germany Exclusive on Smoke Marble Vinyl, only 1000 copies available. Shame follow up their wildly acclaimed debut with a James Ford-produced peek into the riddled mind of the band's frontman, Charlie Steen. There are moments on Drunk Tank Pink where you almost have to reach for the sleeve to check this is the same band who made 2018's Songs Of Praise. Such is the jump Shame have made from the riotous post-punk of their debut to the sprawling adventurism and twitching anxieties laid out here. The South Londoner's blood and guts spirit, that wink and grin of devious charm, is still present, it's just that it's grown into something bigger, something deeper, more ambitious and unflinchingly honest. The genius of Drunk Tank Pink is how these lyrical themes dovetail with the music. Opener Alphabet 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 March Day's escalating aural panic attack or the shapeshifting darkness of Snow Day. There's a Berlin era Bowie beauty to the lovelorn Human For A Minute while closer Station Wagon weaves from a downbeat mooch into a souring, soullifting climax in which Steen elevates himself beyond the clouds and into the heavens. Or at least that's what it sounds like. From the womb to the clouds (sort of), Shame are currently very much in the pink.

Shame follow up their wildly acclaimed debut with a James Ford-produced peek into the riddled mind of the band's frontman, Charlie Steen. There are moments on Drunk Tank Pink where you almost have to reach for the sleeve to check this is the same band who made 2018's Songs Of Praise. Such is the jump Shame have made from the riotous post-punk of their debut to the sprawling adventurism and twitching anxieties laid out here. The South Londoner's blood and guts spirit, that wink and grin of devious charm, is still present, it's just that it's grown into something bigger, something deeper, more ambitious and unflinchingly honest. The genius of Drunk Tank Pink is how these lyrical themes dovetail with the music. Opener Alphabet 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 March Day's escalating aural panic attack or the shapeshifting darkness of Snow Day. There's a Berlin era Bowie beauty to the lovelorn Human For A Minute while closer Station Wagon weaves from a downbeat mooch into a souring, soullifting climax in which Steen elevates himself beyond the clouds and into the heavens. Or at least that's what it sounds like. From the womb to the clouds (sort of), Shame are currently very much in the pink.