Cutthroat

This fourth album is undoubtedly a return to something: full of raw, barely restrained bite, it’s as if they’ve taken all the sparky, unself-conscious vigour of their 2018 debut and, in their relative maturity, learned to wield it even more potently. Ever the rabble-rousing ringleader, Charlie Steen is on vintage lyrical form.

The result is shame’s most thrilling work yet, an album that takes the essence from Songs of Praise and turns it into a more mature, fully developed version, proving how much the band has evolved in the seven years since their debut.

While Cutthroat may be a bit disjointed, it's not because Shame are indecisive. They continue to push and invent, even when it might be safer not to. Sometimes the results are thrilling, sometimes they're frustrating, but they're never cowardly.

While there's a little less shouting than usual going on, a more laconic American influence serves the well when Charlie Steen's drawl lends the title track's electro-pop textures a Dandy Warhols feel, and "Lampiao" channels an LCD-style tale of gangster mythology. [Nov 2025, p.36]

It’s this ambivalence, when present – mock-empowerment or satirical glibness versus a dire knowing that the social divides are getting bigger – that fuels the album’s best takes.