Shame have returned with their sophomore record Drunk Tank Pink. It sees them follow their debut, 2018 Songs of Praise with noticeable growth. Drunk Tank Pink is full bodied and in your face. 

Hailing from South London, Shame consists of vocalist Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith, Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty, and drummer Charlie Forbes. Their first album Songs of Praise was recorded with the band fresh out of adolescence and left to negotiate the transition to adulthood with the chaos of a relentless tour schedule. 

Released on Dead Oceans, the album is named after the shade of pink used in jail cells, known for having the effect to calm and soothe. Steen isolated himself, before we were all expected to, writing the lyrics in a room he painted drunk tank pink and affectionately nicknamed ‘the womb’. Coyle-Smith also went into a period of isolation, writing and recording chunks of music. The artwork features Forbes’ dad, Lenin, who named the band, taken by Tegen Williams.

Drunk Tank Pink is a more mature and developed record. It draws on a wider source of influences, ‘Nigel Hitter’ is a good example of this. Rather fittingly about being fed up and after a ‘new beginning’, ‘Nigel Hitter’ is one of the lighter tracks, with a funky driving drum rhythm throughout. Steen delivers its lyrics caked in sarcastic wit, asking ‘Will this day ever end?’, which is very relatable in pandemic life. This delivery is also seen in later track ‘Water in the Well’, asking ‘And which way is heaven, sir? / We all got lost somehow’ which feels more than apt for the current state of political affairs. 

Angst has a greater presence on the record and the sense of existentialism almost feels curated, but it’s also hopeful. Shame sound a more seasoned band, which promises plenty for their upcoming tour. ‘Alphabet’, in particular, demands to be played live in front of a riotous crowd. Steen’s sneers of ‘I still don’t know the alphabet’ conjures up images of messy, sweaty gigs where the audience and artist are one. A hurtling opening track, it sets the tone for the rest of the record, a pulsating energy, paired with a building undercurrent of anxiety. 

Drunk Tank Pink demonstrates Steen’s lyrical and performative flare. ‘Snow Day’, a track half spoken-word, half snarled, features some of the best lyrics of the album, most notably the lines: ‘If I can’t see you then why should I see? / They say don’t live in the past / And I don’t / I live deep within myself / Just like everyone else’. Steen’s delivery of such lines is so potently charged, giving a depth, and meaning that no one else could. It snaps at you, with a cold, vivid aggression and a patronising air that’s dripping in nihilism. It’s the perfect punk vocal. Fan-favourite ‘Born in Luton’ opens with a gritty hook, with the song changing tempo throughout much to the dramatic benefit of Steen’s vocal performance, which is heavy, as if aged by unbearably weighty experiences, before culminating in a crescendo. 

Maybe the pandemic has deprived me of more music than I thought, as I struggle to pick a standout favourite track. Drunk Tank Pink is a consistent, coherent body of work, with most of the tracks transitioning into the next one seamlessly. My personal highlight, though, is the trio of songs in the second half of the album, the 1:57 long ‘Great Dog’, the lyrically poignant depiction of inner conflict ‘6/1’, and the thunderingly erratic ‘Harsh Degrees’, all shorter, faster, and punkier. 

Mirroring the final track of Songs of Praise, Drunk Tank Pink closes with the 6-minute ‘Station Wagon’, a track glinting with hopefulness, overshadowed by a restless feeling that, as the song goes on, descends into a chaos, as if to parallel the disorder of society as of late. 

The hard work of the quintet on Drunk Tank Pink shows; it all neatly comes together. It’s angry. It’s cheeky. It’s an album that needs to be played loud. It’s something I’ve not stopped listening to since its release.

Rating: 8/10

Drunk Tank Pink is available now via Dead Oceans