Review Summary: A damn shame indeed.
Not that it couldn’t be expected with a band name like meth., but there’s only one moment of relief -or at least something that approximates it- on the entirety of
Shame. It comes near the tail end of “Give In”-the album’s midpoint- and splits the whole project like an atom. The ever present, ever-growing anxieties from tribal drumming and spastic panic chords mounting themselves higher and higher, far past the point where reality should’ve naturally ended things. Vocalist Sebastian Alvarez oscillates between a banshee yell and dog bark to fittingly scream “it’s growing inside” like a chant before peaking with a climactic release that is equal parts Godspeed! You Black Emperor and Liturgy. The song brilliantly chooses to grant a well-earned moment of silence afterward, defiantly choosing to linger and rest in this rare moment of peace. It won't last long.
Shame will wallop you in the face and have you searching for your molars in the dark of its long shadow. It lives up to its name, finding the perfect balance of primal rage and mechanical malaise to explore every nook and cranny of such a complicated emotion, draped in notes of everything from Fear Before the March of Flames to Converge. Picture if Dan Barret got really into amphetamines instead of 808s and that might be close enough, honestly.
And like the best of those works, this is one opaque, punishing listen not for the faint of heart. “Doubt” starts off by highlighting
Shame’s brilliant production, with guitars that sound like field recordings from the seventh circle of hell. There’s a moment when the song ceases its sinking amid its thunderous strikes and demonic wails with a lone guitar plucking, only to continue on its way with increased resolve. Where it feels like songs should relent or affirm, they only continue with that sort of cosmic indifference. And from there, the album continues to slither into ever-lower depths that continue to defy expectation and convention. The tribal booms of “Blackmail” loop back around to “Doubt” if you allow them to, creating a literal shame spiral. Not even the album’s structure will let you go. There is no end. There is no bottom. This truly sounds like hell.
At the risk of turning into Chris Farley Interviewing Paul McCartney, there are just so many
awesome moments here. There’s a ghastly drone that briefly evaporates “Blush” into the kind of fog that sticks to Silent Hill. The title track’s honest-to-god silly bassline summoning the end of the world as ghostly wails circle its orbit. The namesake of “Cruelty” serving as the punchline to the aforementioned triumph in “Give In”. Everything cascades into each other brilliantly to create an oppressive atmosphere that is begging to be dissected just as much as it is begging to be felt.
Meth. have created a masterpiece. It’s as simple as that. So rarely does an album feel as fully-formed on first blush while still managing to feel like I haven’t even scratched the surface after a dozen or so listens. From its pristine sound design to its seemingly endless capacity for terror, there’s not an angle it aims from where it doesn’t succeed to a level that puts other heavy acts to….well, you know.
