Shame – Songs Of Praise - 2018 Indie Post Punk LP
Shame – Songs Of Praise
Dead Oceans – DOC144
Vinyl, LP, Album
UK, Europe & US
12 Jan 2018
Indie Rock, Post-Punk
A1 Dust On Trial
A3 One Rizla
A4 The Lick
B2 Gold Hole
Copyright (c) – Dead Oceans, Inc.
Phonographic Copyright (p) – Dead Oceans, Inc.
Pressed By – GZ Media – 164025E
Recorded At – Rockfield Studios
Mastered At – Alchemy Mastering
Lacquer Cut At – Alchemy Mastering
Band [Shame], Bass Guitar – Josh Finerty
Band [Shame], Drums – Charlie Forbes
Band [Shame], Guitar – Eddie Green (12), Sean Coyle-Smith
Band [Shame], Lead Vocals – Charlie Steen
Design – Miles Johnson
Engineer [Assistant Engineers] – Joe Jones (5), Paul Carr (9)
Engineer [Recording Engineer] – Sean Genockey
Lacquer Cut By – Matt*
Mastered By – Matt Colton
Mixed By – Nathan Boddy
Photography By – Holly Whitaker (2)
Producer – Dan Foat, Nathan Boddy
Programmed By [Programming], Keyboards [Keys] – Dan Foat, Nathan Boddy
Released with a 2018 calendar of highlights (album release date and band member's birthdays), credits on the back and a download card.
Hype sticker on shrink:
On back and labels:
©&℗ 2018 Dead Oceans, Inc.
On calendar back:
[...] at Alchemy
Pressing plant is uncredited, derived from the runout stamps.
( pitchfork) ". “I hope that you’re hearing me,” he bawls eight times on “Concrete” but then self-lacerates one track later. “My voice ain’t the best you’ve heard/And you can choose to hate my words/But do I give a fuck?” he asks on the anthemic pop of “One Rizla.” He gives a fuck, but only about not giving a fuck. Shame don’t consider themselves special or important. Their sound isn’t all that inventive, their anger isn’t all that new. The latter, however, is as hot as a blue flame. It grows brighter as Steen repeats lyrical phrases again and again on almost every track until you’re forced to register his anguish.
If Shame belong to a generation of mobilizing British refuseniks teetering on an uprising, Songs of Praise is its soundtrack, whistling like a kettle coming to the boil. From beginning to end, its motorik riffs course through you the way a vat of dirty water journeys from a grimy cistern into an overrun toilet bowl. Steen’s knack for sordid imagery exalts him beyond his peers. Knowing the limitations of his gender and genre, he’s fine-tuned a charisma that hoodwinks you into listening to his enchanting tales from the underbelly. On “Gold Hole” (an indelicate descriptor for vagina), he tells the filthy story of a lecherous older man having an affair with a younger girl. “Sweat stains the wrinkles/Tongue touches the hole,” he roars, with a mix of Ian Dury cheek and the comical menace of Begbie from Trainspotting. “She feels so dirty, she knows that it’s wrong/But she feels so good in Louis Vuitton.” The luxury brand has never sounded less aspirational.
Steen is a playful vocalist. He spits in fits on “Lampoon” and “Tasteless,” he screams and pants nonsense on “Donk,” he narrates like a bored pervert on the standout “The Lick” (think Blur’s “Parklife” for a youth born too late to care what “Vorsprung durch technik” meant), and he laments tenderly on ballad “Angie,” an ode to a girl who committed suicide. "