All Shows

Sep/13 · Sextile
Sep/15 · Arc De Soleil: La Mirage Tour
Sep/16 · *CANCELED* DYSTINCT’S BABABA WORLD TOUR
Sep/17 · Beach Fossils
Sep/18 · Chaparelle
Sep/19 · INIKO – Awakening The Empire North American Tour
Sep/20 · Arcy Drive: The Pit Tour
Sep/21 · SE SO NEON – NOW North American Tour 2025 
Sep/22 · Samia
Sep/23 · Skinshape
Sep/24 · The Bones of J.R. Jones
Sep/25 · High Vis
Sep/26 · Cameron Whitcomb – I’ve Got Options Tour
Sep/27 · Spacey Jane – If That Makes Sense Tour
Sep/28 · Redferrin
Sep/30 · BETWEEN FRIENDS – WOW! TOUR
Oct/1 · Night Tapes – portals//polarities Tour
Oct/3 · múm
Oct/5 · DUCKWRTH – All American Freak Show Tour
Oct/6 · MIRADOR
Oct/7 · Bayker Blankenship
Oct/9 · Covet
Oct/10 · BAD SUNS: ACCELERATOUR 2025
Oct/11 · French Police
Oct/12 · Balu Brigada
Oct/13 · Ty Segall
Oct/15 · DURRY – Your Friend From The Real World Tour
Oct/17 · Jeremy Zucker – Welcome to the Garden State Tour
Oct/18 · Earthless
Oct/19 · Frankie Cosmos
Oct/25 · *CANCELED* Kneecap
Oct/26 · Geese – The Getting Killed Tour
Oct/27 · 6ARELYHUMAN
Oct/29 · Night Moves
Nov/1 · EDEN – Dark Tour
Nov/2 · The New Mastersounds – Ta-Ta For Now Tour
Nov/5 · Blondshell
Nov/7 · Margo Price – Wild At Heart Tour
Nov/8 · Marlon Funaki
Nov/9 · Midnight Til Morning
Nov/10 · Peter McPoland: Big Lucky Tour
Nov/11 · Cut Copy
Nov/12 · SOFIA ISELLA
Nov/13 · Lily Rose – I Know What I Want Tour 2025
Nov/15 · hannah bahng: The Misunderstood World Tour
Nov/18 · Lucius
Nov/21 · The Brothers Comatose
Nov/22 · Leith Ross
Nov/28 · CUMBIATRON
Nov/29 · J-Fell and Nite Wave Present: The Cure, Depeche Mode & New Order Tribute Night
Dec/4 · Violent Vira
Dec/6 · Foxwarren
Dec/10 · Electric Guest
Dec/13 · Earlybirds Club
Jan/31 · Ruston Kelly – Pale, Through the Window Tour
Feb/2 · Don Broco
Feb/12 · shame
Mar/4 · Monolink
Apr/28 · Patrick Watson – Uh Oh Tour

All Shows

Upcoming Events

Monqui Presents

with special guest Nuovo Testamento

Saturday, September 13
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $57.94

About Sextile:

Some bands find their groove and stick to it while others choose to reinvent themselves and keep on moving. Sextile can attest to the thrill of an ever-changing road map. The LA duo comprising Melissa Scaduto and Brady Keehn ply their trade with a lust for life and a love of everything from no wave to hardstyle, having merged some of these influences on their striking 2023 debut for Sacred Bones, Push.

The group’s new LP, yes, please., fuses anarchic electro fire with raw personal recollections —and enough beefed-up bass to bust a speaker or two. yes, please. is an album of contrasts: a vulnerable record that bares its soul as much as it revels in excess, showing just how far you can push your sound when you shake off your inhibitions. Together, the pair betray a confidence that never wavers, making a bold splash on the speedy intro with a rave siren cut from a ‘00s New York house party. Seemingly by the same token, the unruly spirit of electroclash stalks the yes, please. building, flashing its ID on the cowbell-peppered thunderbolts of “Freak Eyes” and “Rearrange”, and turning in a scuzzy dancefloor bomb with “Women Respond to Bass.” High on endorphins, “Push-ups”—which features vocals from Jehnny Beth—is pure muscle music, fortified by hoover bass and fleshed out by synths that hammer as hard as lumps of hail on a glass roof.

Scaduto, who grew up in New York, and the Virginia-raised Keehn originally met in NYC before relocating to LA and forming Sextile. In 2015, they were joined by guitarist and synth player Eddie Wuebben, embracing “occult-inspired” post-punk for their debut album A Thousand Hands (2015), amping up the synths for 2017 follow-up Albeit Living, and leaning into this further for 2018’s electronically minded EP 3. Sextile went on hiatus following a difficult period marked by the tragic passing of Wuebben in October 2019. They later re-emerged with former bassist Cameron Michel on guitar and synths and released the “Modern Weekend” / “Contortion” single in 2022.

 
 
 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

with special guest Nuovo Testamento

Saturday, September 13
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $57.94

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents
Monday, September 15
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $65.15

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

Tuesday, September 16
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

With special guests Launder and girlpuppy

Wednesday, September 17
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $52.02

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

With special guest Jeffrey Silverstein

Thursday, September 18
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $29.10

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

With special guests Bryan Breeding and Evolution Of The Revolution

Friday, September 19
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $61.03

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

with special guest Foxtide

Saturday, September 20
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $111

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

With Special Guest SASAMI

Sunday, September 21
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $73.90

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

with special guest Renny Conti

Monday, September 22
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $88.43

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

with Sons of Sevilla

Tuesday, September 23
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
$29.25 to $34.25

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

With special guest Byland

Wednesday, September 24
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $35.02

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

with No Warning, Gag, Cold Gawd

Thursday, September 25
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $52.02

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

With Danielle Finn

Friday, September 26
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$36.05 to $161.78

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents
Saturday, September 27
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $143.69

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

With special guest Shaylen

Sunday, September 28
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $397.84

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Showbox Presents
Tuesday, September 30
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$37.08 to $161.71

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

With special guest Cult of Venus

Wednesday, October 1
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $52.02

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

With special guest GYDA

Friday, October 3
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $69.27

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

With special guest DE'WAYNE

Sunday, October 5
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $147.86

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents
Monday, October 6
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $35.28

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents
Tuesday, October 7
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $53.56

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

with LITE & Wylie Hopkins

Thursday, October 9
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $57.94

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

with Joe P

Friday, October 10
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $57.94

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents
Saturday, October 11
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $57.94

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

With special guest Tommy Newport

Sunday, October 12
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$30.02 to $52.02

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents
Monday, October 13
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $44.55

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

With special guest Gully Boys

Wednesday, October 15
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $114.38

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents
Friday, October 17
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $301.13

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

with Minami Deutsch

Saturday, October 18
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
ages 21 +
$14.16 to $52.02

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents
Sunday, October 19
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $56.14

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

With special guest Bricknxsty

Saturday, October 25
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents
Sunday, October 26
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$40.43 to $121.44

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Showbox Presents

With special guest Dev

Monday, October 27
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$37.08 to $168.32

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

With special guest Sam Blasucci

Wednesday, October 29
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $28.84

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Showbox Presents

with special guests greek & DJ Krewes

Saturday, November 1
Doors : 7pm, Show : 7pm
all ages
$45.58 to $230.60

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

Sunday, November 2
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $62.57

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents
Wednesday, November 5
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$29.10

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

with special guest Dillon Warnek

Friday, November 7
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $171.08

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents
Saturday, November 8
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $28.84

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Showbox Presents
Sunday, November 9
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$0 to $192.42

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents
Monday, November 10
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $142.93

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

with Ora The Molecule

Tuesday, November 11
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $63.60

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents
Wednesday, November 12
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $58.97

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Showbox Presents
Thursday, November 13
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$37.08

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

Saturday, November 15
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$46.35 to $200.28

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

With Attention Bird Utopia

Tuesday, November 18
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$52.53 to $150.12

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

with Goodnight, Texas

Friday, November 21
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $62.57

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents
Saturday, November 22
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $52.02

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents
Friday, November 28
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$28.84

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
J-Fell and Nite Wave Present
Saturday, November 29
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$35.02

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents
Thursday, December 4
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $165.60

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

With special guest Hannah Frances

Saturday, December 6
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $63.60

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

Wednesday, December 10
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents
Saturday, December 13
Show : 6pm
ages 21 +
$40.43

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents

With special guest verygently

Saturday, January 31
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $183.75

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents
Monday, February 2
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $52.02

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents
Thursday, February 12
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages
$14.16 to $52.02

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents
Wednesday, March 4
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
ages 21 +

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.

 
 
 
 
Monqui Presents
Tuesday, April 28
Doors : 7pm, Show : 8pm
all ages

About shame:

Cutthroat is a joyride.
It’s for the inexperienced driver. The one who wants to go fast for no reason other than it’s fun.

It’s driven by hunger. Hunger for something better. For something you’ve been told you don’t deserve.

It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s unapologetic. It’s the person who turns up to the party uninvited.

’Cause when you’ve been pushed down, there’s nowhere to go but up. When you ain’t got nothing, you ain’t got nothing to lose.” – shame

Cutthroat is shame at their blistering best. “It’s about the cowards, the cunts, the hypocrites,” says vocalist Charlie Steen. “Let’s face it, there’s a lot of them around right now.”

An unapologetic new album with Grammy winning producer John Congleton at the helm; it’s souped up and supercharged. It’s exactly where you want shame to be.

Still in their twenties, the five childhood friends – Charlie Steen, guitarists Sean Coyle-Smith and Eddie Green, bassist Josh Finerty and drummer Charlie Forbes – have grown shame exponentially, with ambitious sonic ideas and the technical chops to execute them.

Having proved themselves several times over with legendary live shows and three critically-acclaimed albums under their belts, shame went into Cutthroat ready to create a new Ground Zero.

“This is about who we are,” says Steen. “Our live shows aren’t performance art – they’re direct, confrontational and raw. That’s always been the root of us. We live in crazy times. But it’s not about ‘Poor me.’ It’s about ‘Fuck you’.”

Crucial to this incendiary new outlook was producer John Congleton (St. Vincent, Angel Olsen). From their initial meeting, Congleton’s no-bullshit approach became a guiding force to streamline the band’s ideas.

Stamped throughout with shame’s trademark sense of humour, the album takes on the big issues of today and gleefully toys with them. With Trump in the Whitehouse and shame holed up in Salvation Studios in Brighton, they cast a merciless eye on themes of conflict and corruption; hunger and desire; lust, envy and the omnipresent shadow of cowardice.

Musically, too, the record plays with visceral new ideas. Making electronic music on tour for fun, Coyle-Smith had previously seen the loops he was crafting as a separate entity to the things he wrote for shame. Then, he realised, maybe they didn’t have to be. “This time, anything could go if it sounded good and you got it right,” he says.

Cutthroat’s first single and title track takes this idea and runs with it into, quite possibly, the best song shame have ever laid to tape. It’s a ball of barely-contained attitude packed into three minutes of indie dancefloor hedonism. It also masterfully introduces the lyrical outlook of the record: one where cocksure arrogance and deep insecurity are two sides of the same coin.

“I was reading a lot of Oscar Wilde plays where everything was about paradox,” Steen explains. “In ‘Cutthroat’, it’s that whole idea from Lady Windermere’s Fan, ‘Life’s far too important to be taken seriously’.”

‘Spartak’ rolls in on an Americana-flecked country lilt (“I was basically trying to write a Wilco song,” Coyle-Smith chuckles). This song holds one of the main themes of the record, criticising cliques and pack-mentality.

It sets its crosshairs on the social climbers; the people at the party always looking over your shoulder trying to find someone more important.

“I guess this disdain towards cliques comes from how shit I was made to feel by the cool kids growing up.” Says Steen, “ I was a chubby teenager who liked the wrong type of music and wore the wrong type of clothes.”

“It’s just another time I’d like to say fuck you to those people, and to anyone who makes someone feel shitty for not fitting in.” Steen says with a smile on his face.

Album highlight ‘Quiet Life’, the first spark in the Cutthroat writing process, is delivered via a snarling Rockabilly riff, influenced by the tone and attitude of such bands as The Gun Club and The Cramps.

“‘Quiet Life’ is about someone in a shitty relationship. It’s about the judgment they receive and the struggle that they have to go through, trying to understand the conflict they face, of wanting a better life… but being stuck.”

‘Lampião’ goes where shame have never gone before, as Steen sings in Portuguese about the polarising Brazilian bandit – a hero to some, a murderer to others. 

“My girlfriend is Brazilian and I was in São Paulo with her parents,” Steen says. “Her mum told me about this famous bandit, Lampião, and his wife, Maria Bonita. They’re like Bonnie and Clyde over there, and just as famous.

“It seemed crazy to me how nobody in London seemed to know who they were, so I wanted to write this sort of folk-song about them, condensing their story. The song that I’m singing in the chorus was actually written by one of the bandits in Lampião’s crew, Volta Seca.”

‘After Party’ underpins Steen’s spitting delivery with unsettling, tremulous synths that then break into a wryly chirpy chorus before closer, ‘Axis of Evil’, sends shame into a whole new thrilling dimension. Channelling the prowling, lusty electronics of Depeche Mode, it’s like nothing the band have done before.

This cheeky self-awareness, too, is important. As much as shame want to burst the bubbles of bluster and ego, encouraging us to look in the mirror and ask ourselves, ‘He who casts the first stone…’, they also understand that, at its heart, life is often ridiculous.

“You never know when you’re gonna go, so make it count while you’re still here,” Steen shrugs. “Every good Catholic kid like myself might have fallen asleep every night with a crucified Jesus on their wall. Maybe that has something to do with it as well…”

The result is an album that revels in the idiosyncrasies of life, raising an eyebrow and asking the ugly questions that so often get tactfully brushed over.

“I’m not here to answer the questions, I’m a 27-year-old idiot…” Steen caveats with a self-effacing chuckle. But the one answer that Cutthroat gives with a resounding flourish is that, right now, shame have never sounded better.