Review
The Shame
The World Is Ours

Profane Existence kicks off their Limited Edition Single Series—a subscription service that delivers a new 7” each month—with The World Is Ours, a brand new EP by the The Shame. Considering The Shame are an Oi! band, it seems like an odd selection for a label that deals primarily in anarchist-fueled crust punk and metal. However, it’s not completely outside P.E.’s wheelhouse, as the band is fronted by Brother Inferior and label-alum Chad Malone.

The cover photo shows the Tulsa, OK three-piece sitting on a stoop, surrounded by empty Strongbow and Guinness cans, while the requisite soccer ball rests a step below them. Look close enough and you’ll see that Malone is even wearing a Fred Perry. Flipping it over will reveal a shield logo comprised of pint glasses, a soccer ball, and someone waiving an “Oi!” flag. About all it's missing is a boot print. Without any prior knowledge of the band, it’s difficult to decipher whether it’s a sincere homage to classic Oi! imagery, or a tongue-in-cheek pisstake.

One drop of the needle though, and it becomes clear, The Shame’s intentions are wholly genuine. They play straightforward, catchy punk ‘n’ roll in the vein of early ‘80s UK Oi!, and they do it exceptionally well. The Oppressed and Blitz influences are easily detectable. Malone’s lyricism, which focuses primarily on anti-fascism, beer, buddies, and futbol anthems, is dispatched appropriately via his gruff-voiced delivery. The production is thick and stuffy, with a peculiar familiarity to it that’s hard to pinpoint exactly. It's like an old Sham 69 record being playing on your parent’s turntable, which is not something I’m sure I’ve actually ever done. But that’s the thing; it exudes a general feeling of something, I don’t know, historical.

It’s safe to say that, both by design and in resonance, The Shame are Oi! in the most archetypical sense. The World Is Ours conjures up nostalgia for the bygone days of punk before it split up into gazillions of sub-genres. As it relates to a label like Profane Existence, it’s a welcomed and surprisingly favorable excursion. Raise a glass and sing along.