Shame and Viagra Boys Get Rowdy at Brooklyn Steel
October 19, 2022
Shame/Viagra Boys – Brooklyn Steel – October 18, 2022
On the last stop of their U.S. tour, Viagra Boys and Shame pulled up ready to party on Tuesday at Brooklyn Steel. Ready to “celebrate,” in the words of Viagra Boys frontman Sebastian Murphy. They wanted to prove, he said, that Brooklyn goes hard. But lest we forget, they do, too. The group (voted Sweden’s worst band four years in a row, Murphy said, a knowing twinkle in his eye — and gunning for their fifth title) is the equivalent of a party in a bottle. Literally. One full of alcohol. Possibly many. The six-piece is quintessential goof-punk, a genre I may have coined but feel is alive and well in Kings County and beyond. Their weird milkshake of showmanship, guitar rock, poetic flare, beeps and bops and self-aware anti-hotness blends into something that simply commands attention.
And if you somehow weren’t initially paying attention, maybe you did when Murphy took off his shirt to reveal a fully tattooed chest and belly. No? Maybe you perked up when he tweaked his own nipples. Or twisted his hips come-hither-ly. Their music isn’t “hard,” in their own admission, but that doesn’t mean it’s simple. The band was a fresh brain treat, coursing through their catalog and rousing moshers on “Troglodyte” and “Big Boy,” both off this year’s Cave World. But the set found its heart and center right after forever-hit “Sports,” when Murphy recounted a dream in which he became a shrimp, swam through the Atlantic and arrived on a beach, only to meet “your mom” and bear witness to her dream — to surf. “Shrimp Shack” followed and destroyed.
Shame arrived next, with so much springy energy that they hardly contained themselves. The South London band came ready to perform post-punk distilled, with Charlie Steen, the frontman, dressed in a white tank, an undone red button-down and flared jeans. He climb-walked over the crowd, catapulting himself into the melee, emerging to belt “Alphabet” off Drunk Tank Pink, from last year, an expansive follow-up to the urgency of Songs of Praise, from 2018. Shame delved into earlier material, like “Tasteless,” a misnomer of a song that builds triumphantly on a rough one: “I like you better when you’re not around.” Yeesh. But also … who among us? You know? All in all, it was a delightful night of post-punk indulgence, a doubleheader for the books. —Rachel Brody | @RachelCBrody
Photos courtesy of Adela Loconte | www.adelaloconte.com
