Iceage and Shame put the post back in punk at the New Parish

Walking into the New Parish on Tuesday, I had my mental checklist for a weeknight post-punk show going, and those boxes were getting ticked off pretty quickly. Dude in an Idles shirt? Check. Bowl cuts? Check. Uninterested looking tech guys? Check. An older couple who probably likes The Fall a lot? Check.

After paying an unnecessary extra $5 on my ticket price for the sole reason that my friends and I were underage and for some reason that means we had to pay for a non-alcoholic drink ticket, we rolled into the fed up sounds of Montreal duo Pelada. A group that walks the line between techno and politically minded punk sung in Spanish, it was the perfect danceable start to the night. The mostly black-clad crowd, unfortunately, was not that ready to throw down on the dancefloor, so for the next twenty or so minutes, we grooved out amidst a sea of disinterested bobbing heads.

A brief intermission followed, during which that extra $5 I paid got me a Redbull from the bar, and as someone that never drinks energy drinks, I was ready to, how do I say this, ‘fuck some shit up’ to London post-punks Shame. As it turns out, so were the rest of the folks there, and as soon as the quintet took the stage, things got a pleasant amount of rowdy.

Blazing through fan favorites from their 2018 debut Songs of Praise, the lads bobbed around on stage as singer Charlie Steen, clad in a cowboy hat and red button up that didn’t stay on for long, soaked up some American adulation. Bodies bounced off each other in a fairly welcoming push pit, occasionally coming together to keep crowd surfers (often including Steen) off the ground.

I really do want to reiterate how happy I was to see so much youthful, naive energy from a band in a scene that’s often dominated by standoffish, brooding dudes with floppy black hair. Shame were having the time of their lives just making fast, slow, hard, soft, guitar music, and I was there for it.

Speaking of standoffish dudes with floppy black hair, Iceage were up next. Known for their romantic brand of artful post-punk, the Danish group kept things classy — but not too classy. The pit got rowdy to choice cuts, mostly from the much acclaimed Beyondless (2018), running the gauntlet from slow bluesy numbers to raunchy mid-tempo rock, occasionally breaking into quick, riffy punk rock. In direct contrast with Shame, watching Iceage felt like watching a performance. We all know these dudes read sophisticated novels and probably write beautiful poetry about heartbreak, and if it wasn’t apparent from listening to their music, it came across onstage.

It might sound like I’m talking shit, but Iceage’s set was genuinely one for the ages. I can make comments all day long about how vocalist Elias Bender Rønnenfelt completely ignored my friend who tried to say a word to him after the show, but he and his band knew how to put on an impactful, heartfelt show. Instead, I’ll choose to focus my anger on that $5 “drink ticket.” Oh, and Charlie from Shame, if you’re reading this as I told you to, you’re a real one. Well, a real one regardless, but you know.

Article by Kieran Zimmer