Shame review cutthroat highlights their ability to grow

There is not enough time to fully unpack the irony of younger fans discovering Shame while they opened for Fontaines D.C. – a band that originally made their name supporting Shame. What matters is that Shame are suddenly cool again, and in the most stylish way possible, they could not care less. They return to the front lines with Cutthroat, their fourth studio record, which they have bluntly described as being less about “poor me” and more about “fuck you.”

That attitude comes through immediately in the album’s opening stretch. The title track rides a pounding disco beat fused with a searing riff, while frontman Charlie Steen fearlessly references Kevin Smith’s 1999 film Dogma. “Big, beautiful naked women fall out of the sky / Motherfucker, I was born to die,” he shouts with the same swagger that first made people sit up and pay attention when Songs Of Praise dropped. Just as you think you’ve got it figured out, an AutoTune-heavy chorus arrives to catch you off guard.

If that doesn’t jolt you, Cowards Around certainly will. Driven by Charlie Forbes’ frenetic drumming, echoing Led Zeppelin’s Rock & Roll, the track charges ahead while taking sharp shots at anyone deemed a coward, from the silly (“people who drink protein shakes”) to the cutting (“members of Parliament”). It is one of the clearest moments on record where Shame capture the sheer chaos and vitality of their live sets – you can almost see bassist Josh Finerty somersaulting around as the song unfolds.

The album finds its most compelling moments when it reveals just how varied Shame’s sound can be. Alongside electronic experiments like To and Fro and After Party, there is the cinematic spaghetti-western feel of Lampião and the crisp jangle-pop of Spartak. These risks pay off, blending seamlessly with the band’s quirks and ensuring the music still feels distinctly theirs.

Steen remains an endlessly interesting figure. At times, he is still the fiery preacher commanding attention from the stage, but here he also steps away from the pulpit, cigarette in hand, wrestling with doubt. On more reflective tracks such as Quiet Life, he sheds the persona and instead digs deep into the vulnerabilities of the human condition.

By the time the closing track Axis of Evil arrives, it feels like the band has unveiled their full range. The finale plays like a literal disco inferno, with Steen delivering deadpan lines over a groove that builds into something apocalyptic, as synths pile up around him and the band fans the flames. For a group that might have been derailed by the pandemic or risked falling into repetition, Cutthroat is proof of Shame’s remarkable ability to push forward and evolve without losing their bite.