There are moments on Drunk Tank Pink where you almosthave to reach for the sleeve to check this is the same bandwho made 2018's Songs Of Praise. Such is the jump Shamehave made from the riotous post-punk of their debut to thesprawling adventurism and twitching anxieties laid out here.The South Londoner's blood and guts spirit, that wink andgrin of devious charm, is still present, it's just that it's growninto something bigger, something deeper, more ambitious andunflinchingly honest. The genius of Drunk Tank Pink is how these lyrical themesdovetail with the music. Opener Alphabet dissects the premiseof performance over a siren call of nervous, jerking guitars, it'schorus thrown out like a beer bottle across a mosh pit.Songs spin off and lurch into unexpected directions throughouthere, be it March Day's escalating aural panic attack or theshapeshifting darkness of Snow Day. There's a Berlin era Bowiebeauty to the lovelorn Human For A Minute while closer StationWagon weaves from a downbeat mooch into a souring, soullifting climax in which Steen elevates himself beyond the cloudsand into the heavens. Or at least that's what it sounds like. From the womb to the clouds (sort of), Shame are currentlyvery much in the pink.