Shame’s Drunk Tank Pink Is Agitated and Sharp
The South London band’s second album is more eclectic and inspired than their debut

Everything about Shame and their emergence a few years ago was surrounded by chaos—but the South London band seemed enraptured by it. Their home base was a Brixton pub called The Queen’s Head, which was also an HQ at one point for much-hyped and highly controversial punks Fat White Family. At the time, Shame were only in their teens, but they quickly cut their teeth, later describing their wild times of “getting fucked up with 45-year-olds” and confirming that the rumored dark happenings within those walls were, if anything, “under-exaggerated.”
They also frequented another Brixton staple, The Windmill, a council estate pub and independent venue where they found their footing as a live band alongside fellow burgeoning acts like Sorry, Goat Girl and HMLTD. With each of these bands rising in popularity around the same time, this former Irish pub soon became the center of the U.K. indie scene, a place swimming with label execs looking for London’s next hype band. Shame’s “you had to be there” beginnings and organic rise are no doubt a part of their appeal, especially in a time when listeners are starved for rock ‘n’ roll mystique and folklore, which is inherently at odds with our constant social media fixation.
After Shame signed with Dead Oceans and released their debut album Songs of Praise in 2018, they toured all over the world to critical acclaim. Their forceful, jocular post-punk songs, barked by often-shirtless frontman Charlie Steen and taking cues from Mark E. Smith, were all the more satisfying in their live form. Mosh pits opened up, bassist Josh Finerty burst into tumbling front flips and Steen climbed over crowds, who held up his chunky boots as he stood above them, often flinging water like an eccentric baptism. But all this energy poured into an insane volume of tour dates and festivals eventually took a toll on them, lending few opportunities to take stock of their impressive run. As they began work on their follow-up album, there was a lot of contemplation to be done.
Their brand new full-length Drunk Tank Pink asks the same burning questions that arise after a messy night out—not the immediate ones in the morning, like “Where’s my credit card?” or “Who did I make out with last night? They pose the ones that make you think deeper, long after your hangover has subsided: “Am I addicted to numbing my pain?” “Am I moving too fast?” “Is this where I want to be at this point in my life?” As they seek answers, they sound darker and more agitated. There’s a palpable restlessness and lack of content—the exact sort of panic that sets in when you’re too young to be freaking out about how you’re going to cope with each new day. Their rhythms are sharper, their guitars are more imaginative, and they’re okay with taking their foot off the gas every once in a while.
They kick things off with “Alphabet,” an absolutely fuming track and one of their best songs to date. It’s marked by breakneck drums, Steen’s thoughtfully accented speak-singing and a guitar solo shrieking like a train barrelling out of control. “Are you waiting / to feel good?,” Steen shouts in the song’s chorus, which could read as a surreal message from an advertisement cynically promoting self-care, or a genuine question about one’s own happiness.