Category: Post-punk

Looking at that album cover, you might think at first glance that you were in for a folk record, or maybe a “goth country” album, but then you notice the title is Diet of Worms (possibly after the assembly in which Martin Luther was told to recant his writings and views or be labeled as a heretic – spoiler alert from the 16th century: He didn’t.) and the band’s name is The Shits and now you’re even more intrigued.

Then the opening dissonance of the first track, “In a Hell,” arrives and you’re locked in because you want to hear where this is going. The snarling vocals arrive while drums, bass, and guitars circle around you like angry hounds and you’re thinking, “Okay, let’s do this.” This goes on for over seven minutes and ratchets up the power for the whole album. You look at the album cover again and begin to think something bad has happened (or is still happening) in that house / barn…and, by the way, is the whole area on fire?

The Shits seem to believe the whole world is on fire, judging by the rumbling rage in every track. The guitars on “Tarrare” almost sound like the repetitive ramblings of a madman. “Then You’re Dead” sounds like a Stooges B-side covered in ashes and played on a turntable with a vulture perched next to it and using its beak for the needle. The bass line and drums hits on it are relentless.

Speaking of bass, the bass notes on “Change My Ways” are thick as tar. I think the song is about being pressured to change from every angle of society in this modern world: Eat this, do this workout, sleep in this position, take this supplement, listen to these podcasts, read this book, invest your money with me! It never ends unless you change another thing – the desire to change at all. Could The Shits be hiding a Zen lesson in the distortion and shouts?

There could be another one hidden in “Joyless Satisfaction.” The title alone could allude to the emptiness that often accompanies materialism and attachment. We buy and buy and buy and so often have remorse afterwards. The thrill of the purchase is soon replaced by the dread of having yet another thing to move, dust, or take up space. The same goes for doom-scrolling, influencer idolizing, and so many other things that take up our mind-space. The track’s guitar riffs are all jagged and rusty and likely to harm you if you’re not careful.

The title track is a gritty, nervous, writhing thing with an abrupt ending that catches you off-guard. “Thank You for Being a Friend” has a groove that, believe it or not, reminds me of Thin Lizzy. It’s not a cover of the Golden Girls theme song (which would be amazing), but I think is about both true and false friends, and how sometimes it’s difficult to figure out which is which. The album ends with the menacing “Three O’Clock in the Morning.” It feels like the sensation of stumbling home after a drunken brawl in a Waffle House parking lot, or the dread of waking up for another early shift, or coming back from one that ran late, or the lonely dread that sometimes creeps in when you wake up for no apparent reason. It yells and spits at you, creeps around you, pulls at you, and generally unnerves you.

The whole album does. That’s what it’s supposed to do, and why The Shits made it. It’s as unsettling as the album cover or being handed a bowl of worms to eat. It’s meant to shake you up and shake you out of the trap you don’t even know is around you.

One final note: You can’t be a band called “The Shits” and not be a solid, damn good band. It just wouldn’t work. You’d be written off as a joke band.

The Shits are no joke.

Keep your mind open.

[I’ll have joyful satisfaction if you subscribe.]

[Thanks to Dan at Discipline PR.]