Shame is an emotion many of us carry with us on a day-to-day basis, especially when going through immensely difficult hardships. Some of us climb out of it, using it as a stepping stone for self-improvement and a vow to never make the same mistakes. On the other hand, more of us are gradually weighed down by shame, dragging us ever so closer to the ground as it all piles up. Cases of the latter can be further exemplified by various mental illnesses/disorders, especially if left undiagnosed and untreated. Even more so, that shame can become immensely heavy, so much so that one can become trapped under the sheer weight of their own regrets, desperately grasping at anything that could so much as even hint to a relief from the pain. It can send us on an endless downward spiral, through multiple stages of addiction, depression, self-hatred, self-harm, and/or ultimately, suicide. This is all the basis for the following body of work, an album that heavily resonates with me impressively short after release.
meth. - "SHAME"
Released by: Prosthetic Records
Released on: February 2nd
One of my most anticipated albums this year was the sophomore full-length release from Chicago noise/grindcore band meth., simply entitled SHAME. I had looked forward excitedly to hearing this since seeing this band last October in New Kensington, PA, as support for fellow Illinois screamo band Frail Body. When SHAME finally released on February 2nd of this year and landed itself on the front page of my Spotify, I went and pressed play in a heartbeat. But I don't think any amount of anticipation could've prepared me for the solid, metallic, blood-red gigantic machine of sonic terror that would bulldoze the living shit out of my ears for the next 44 minutes. That very same weighed-down feeling carried through the barrage of distressed shrieks, tribal drums, and earth-shattering, colorless guitars, with seemingly no end in sight.
SHAME is an album that already holds a significant place in my heart for painting a vivid, albeit dark picture of how it feels to carry that overwhelming feeling, and the related effects of such, including addiction, self-isolation, and trauma. meth. vocalist Seb Alvarez's interview with Metal Injection details the entire writing process of the album, trying to cope with the relentless tornado of emotional distress dealing with an undiagnosed bipolar disorder, Catholic-instilled trauma, and alcoholism—and channeling it on record. He ultimately puts himself on blast, much to his own fear in doing so, knowing full well that it's necessary for him to move on. I urge you to give it a quick skim, so as to get the self-confrontational nature of the album itself, alongside Seb's sheer transparency among writing this out. While it's not essential to get the entire picture of SHAME, this interview was frankly what put it all together for me.
If there were to be a soundtrack to the neverending ennui that emerges from overwhelming self-hatred, SHAME would be it. Much like the feeling that comes with intense remorse and dissatisfaction with one's self, the music will hammer you down into the ground—if not, it will gradually wear you down. The combination of oppressive dissonance, terrified vocals, and cryptic, fragmented lyrics creates a vivid picture of self-inflicted mind-entrapment, and it simply never lets up. Upon first listen, I almost ended up having to press pause for a minute or three to give my ears (and mind) a break, but I felt that enduring the 44-minute sonic assault would evoke the tormented feeling SHAME was going for.
The first track, 'Doubt', throws the listener straight into the ring with unwaveringly rhythmic chugging from a blood-soaked guitar. Visceral, bodiless screams fill what little space remains, with short lyrical phrases such as "NO SENSE OF SELF" and "NO WILL TO SURVIVE" carrying the weight of a thousand anvils crushing what form these disembodied voices once had. 'Doubt' is aptly-named for a first song on this album, as it's usually what springs up first once shame and self-hatred fill the space in your mind—'doubt' that you are worth redemption, 'doubt' that whatever actions that may have brought you shame can be reversed or revised, 'doubt' that life as it is now is even worth living. A perfect opener to one hellish journey of an album.
The relatively simplistic, (mostly) single-worded song titles give the impression of chapters in an increasingly illegible book. 'Compulsion' is a downward spiral, screams now accompanied by demonic growls, with lyrics that may pertain to the intense urges to give into one's vices at their lowest point ("Close his begging mouth / Give in to everything"), and 'Blush' finds meth. in their chaotic, mathy antics after a slow, pounding first leg. But the real monster comes in on 'Give In,' clocking in at almost eight minutes and serving as the de-facto climax of the album. Starting out slow with ringing guitars in the distance, the song cascades, hollowing out what space the guitars had taken up, being replaced with distant cries from Seb Alvarez. The ringing that kicks back in for the chorus almost strikes me with a strange sense of consonance, like this is the closest to a silver lining we're getting in this bloody landscape. Repeated screams of "IT'S GROWING INSIDE" perfectly encapsulate the parasitic nature of depression and self-hatred, and how it completely changes you from the inside out.
The title track, "Shame," serving as the sole single to the album served as a perfect introduction of what was to come—a sneak peek at the monstrous entity known as 'shame' that would accompany us (against our will) throughout this trip. In the context of the entire album, however, it feels like finally meeting this entity face-to-face after finally realizing there's no escape. At this point, the only way these demons can be quelled is by looking them straight in the eye and tackling them head-first, whether it kills us or not. Tribal, booming drums roll the dripping red carpet for a speech given in agitated screams and menacing deadpan deliveries—I AM THE WEIGHT OF MY HANDS / I AM THE KNOTS IN YOUR VOICE / I AM SHAME". And it keeps going and going, getting more fucked up and morbid as the song carries on.
'Blackmail' is the album's closer, taking the prize for longest track at 8 minutes and 24 seconds. It essentially serves as one final reminder—like you are never getting out of here, prolonging the madness until it begins to crawl at a snail's pace. The screams get more populated, the drums pound even harder, and the guitars only get deeper and deeper. A last ditch effort to go on plays out in the last couple minutes of the song, only to be sedated and ultimately silenced. The end feels fittingly abrupt, leaving room for speculation on whether this is portrayed death or the mere end of one a many cycles.
All in all, this is one of the most outright self-confrontational albums I have heard in recent times. It dives headfirst into the bloody mess in Seb's—or an otherwise hypothetical protagonist's psyche, taking the listener through several stages of his descent with no room for breather. SHAME is also a testament to meth.'s ear for aura, balancing technicality and atmosphere to create a truly frightening beast, a feat that I greatly admire because of the visceral aspect of this album. While I can't say for certain how cathartic the creation of SHAME may be for Seb Alvarez or any of the other band members, I can say for certain that the quadruple threat of vocalist Seb, guitarists Zack Farrar and Michael McDonald, bassist Nathan Spainhower, and drummer Andrew Smith have made one of the most menacing albums I have heard in the past five years. I'm not entirely sure SHAME will stay in constant rotation because of the intensely dark nature of it, but it will most definitely hold a high place in my top 10 once the end of 2024 rolls around. Give it a listen down below.
A quick afterword of sorts—I initially wrote this as a far loftier, far wordier piece on the concept of shame in general, using this album as a basis for such. Midway through writing this, I felt that this was far too ambitious to converge into one mere page. I have more that I want to say on the matter—particularly regarding my own experiences with a huge rut that I've found myself in, but this will be saved for another post. Additionally, this review will be heavily referenced once that time comes around, because SHAME perfectly characterized some empty, rotten emotions that I had carried for a while now. I can't say for certain how long it'll take to come up with, but I hope it paints a complete enough picture of what I've been dealing with and how it all feels. Until then, take care.