Can a Great Young Band Survive the Industry in 2018?
The British post-punk quintet Shame is fighting the perception of what a young rock band is supposed to be, but "one of these days it's going to kill us."
Photo: Holly Whitaker
Since releasing their debut LP, Songs of Praise, back in January, British post-punk quintet Shame have rapidly emerged as one of the most buzzed-about young bands in the world. Words like “angry,” “energetic” and “explosive” have been thrown around in discussions of their music. Paste’s Madison Desler extolled the group’s “tightly-wound, jittery guitars, mile-a-minute hi-hat and exquisite bleakness.” The adjectives don’t really do them justice. A contagious energy courses through Songs of Praise tracks like “Concrete” and “Gold Hole,” but Shame really have to be experienced live—at full volume, and with ringleader Charlie Steen lurking around the stage, smiling, shirtless and dripping with sweat, often balancing the mic stand on his shoulders or crowd surfing while bellowing to devout fans.
Shame’s high-octane, manic stage presence isn’t restricted to Steen. The whole band projects chaos and danger, and there’s always an underlying feeling that the floor is going to cave in beneath the weight of gleeful self-destruction. Bassist Josh Finerty jumps around and convulses like a lunatic, and guitarist Sean Coyle-Smith shreds his guitar while vibrating at maximum speed. You might think that a group of five 20-year-olds from South London who play music with this level of rage would be brash, chauvinistic characters, but perhaps the most pleasant surprise about Shame is their purposeful rejection of the “lad band” stereotype. In an interview before a recent headlining show in Columbus, Ohio, a bespectacled, sweater-clad Steen said he understands why people might have that perception, but he’s adamant about refuting it.
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For one thing, his rampant toplessness isn’t borne from a love of Henry Rollins or Anthony Kiedis, but something like the opposite. “I didn’t take my top off because I was some chiseled Greek god,” said Steen. “I took my top off because I was self-conscious about my weight. I was just a chubby stoner and I was always pretty shy about it. And when we could play these gigs I could take my top off and feel freed from judgment, even if it was for just 25 minutes. It was just fucking hilarious to be sweaty and topless on top of a table playing to two people on a Wednesday night before going to school. It all just seemed ridiculous and it seemed like the only time you could do it and not get arrested. Mainly as well, as a person, I just sweat so much.”
Taking a page from Mark E. Smith and post-punk progenitors The Fall, Steen exudes a wry humor, theatricality and the idea of “absurdity becoming reality,” so it’s no wonder that one of the band’s most popular songs is the self-deprecating anthem, “One Rizla,” with its chorus refrain: “I’m not much to look at, and I ain’t much to hear / But if you think I love you, you’ve got the wrong idea.” Then there’s the band’s amusing Pet Sounds-esque album cover, which features the members cradling micro pigs in a sunny English field, further negating their rough image. During performances, Steen often reminds the audience, “Smile! This is entertainment!” But the band also calls out aggression or abuse in the crowd, and they’ve voiced support for organizations like Girls Against that are working to root out sexual harassment and discrimination in the music industry.
“We want to disown any stereotype of what a rock star really is,” said Steen. “We’re 21st-century kids. We’re adapting to what it means to be a band in this time and age. And the fact of the matter is there is an amount of misogyny, exclusion and addiction that revolves around that image.”