Shame
In some ways, Shame and Protomartyr, the touring headliners of Friday's show at The High Watt, are a study in contrasts: English and American, young and old(er), visceral and cerebral, unhinged and measured. And that's exactly what made it a perfect pairing. Surface differences aside, the two groups are making vital guitar music that taps into the discombobulating current moment without being pandering or obvious, each with a grip of great songs.
Twen
Twen, a Nashville-by-way-of-New England psych-pop outfit, got the night started. Their set was solid — there are shades of The Smiths, 10,000 Maniacs and Fleetwood Mac in the foursome's full-bodied, harmony-laden songs — though their more optimistic style felt a little at odds with the harder-edged approach of the other two bands.
Making their Music City debut, Shame rolled into town with a good amount of buzz and delivered on it. When we say these five South London lads are young, we don't just mean younger than us — we mean young, like, “Is he old enough to be drinking that?” Assuming they're all 21 now, here's where some of the bands they reminded us of were during the lads' nascency in 1997. The Psychedelic Furs? Long gone. Gang of Four? Ditto. The Jesus Lizard? Petering out. U2? Dabbling unconvincingly in what they called “electronica” back then.
Shame
We've seen Shame live once before, on the last day of SXSW last year — a bonkers show that scored them a deal with Dead Oceans, the Austin label that issued the band’s first full-length Songs of Praise two months back. Last year’s show felt excitingly dangerous, with the band's singer Charlie Steen climbing atop a photobooth, stealing and drinking peoples' beers, stripping down to his knickers and flailing about the room like a Gen-Z David Yow. This performance was tamer. That is, if tea-bagging the mic, using the stand as a barbell, crowd-surfing and cheesing it up for selfies with audience members mid-song counts as tame. Curiously, the drummer — another Charlie, Charlie Forbes — set up in a back corner at stage left, slightly out of view from the rest of the band. But it seemed to be by design, with the mop-topped Forbes pounding away, driving the other four, who were all in a line — a battalion of rockers.
Sonically, lead guitarist Eddie Green is Shame's not-so-secret weapon. His blitzkrieg riffs hearken back to early-’80s post-punks Public Image Ltd and the great, underrated Big Country, needing only a couple standard-issue Boss pedals to pull it off. But if Shame was a boy band and you could buy individual posters of your favorite member, we’d go with bassist Josh Finerty. The preppiest-looking of the group (rounded out by rhythm guitarist Sean Coyle-Smith), Finerty goes the hardest onstage, whirling, headbanging and karate-kicking, rarely standing still long enough for anyone to take a picture that isn't a ghostlike blur. “Remember being flexible?” we thought to ourselves often during the half-hour set, which consisted of Songs of Praise's all-killer-no-filler Side 1 played in order, plus a new one (that was, dare we say, pretty?) and a couple others from the flip side.
Shame
Where “Tasteless” evoked Fugazi at their most anthemic, the slow, churning “The Lick” put us in mind of Stephen Malkmus fronting The Jesus Lizard. But Shame’s best tune is probably “One Rizla,” which Steen informed us is also the first one they wrote. When they played it Friday, Steen acted out the chorus (“Well I'm not much to look at,” he snarled, thumping his bare chest) while Finerty's mellifluous bass line, which makes the song, had this room of music nerds swooning. If there are any qualms with the record, it's that the serviceable but not-very-deep lyrics expose Shame slightly as the young’uns they are. None of that has any effect on their engaging, electric live show. If you love punk rock and you weren't there, shame, shame, shame.
Protomartyr
Where Shame's Steen probably logs a mile during every set, Protomartyr frontman Joe Casey barely moves at all onstage, favoring a Liam Gallagher-esque, hands-clasped-behind-the-back, mic-pointed-downward singing stance. He's not much for banter either, but is certainly intentional in his world-weary, barstool-poet lyrics, heavily inspired by The Fall's late Mark E. Smith. In that respect, we had to consider opener “My Children” — which includes the lyric “They are the future” — a shout-out to the undercard.
The hour-and-change set leaned hard on material from last year's Relatives in Descent, Protomartyr's fourth and best record to date. Deftly, the band twinned that record’s two most zeitgeist-y songs, the Trump-eviscerating “Up the Tower” and the self-explanatory “Male Plague.” On record, Protomartyr distills the tension of day-to-day life in Trump's America into stirring rock music. How well it translates live may depend on one's familiarity with the records — the lyrics are crucial, but the band also plays super loud, so the show might not paint a full picture.
Casey's cohorts add plenty of color, particularly ambidextrous drummer Alex Leonard. And on Friday, the foursome did what they do, which is issue classy, highly relevant, must-listen music. But it was Shame who played like the band with more to prove. Based on what we heard as excited showgoers comparing notes walking down the stairs and into the night, they absolutely succeeded.
See our slideshow for more photos.
In The Spin — the Scene's live review column — staffers and freelance contributors review concerts under a collective byline.
