Review: The Shits ‘Diet Of Worms’
Leeds’ dirty, bludgeoning, noise-punk six-piece The Shits return with their third full-length, and second for Rocket Recordings, Diet Of Worms.
I reviewed their last release, You’re A Mess, back in 2023 and was both sold on, yet totally battered by, the band’s pound-you-into-submission, riff-overdose attack. Here, they maintain their dragged-through-the-gutter aesthetic, but they seem to have tweaked their approach ever so slightly, which pulled me down into the muck with them at once.
Opener In A Hell piles nasty, addictive, garage rock riffage and feedback on top of a driving, mid-tempo beat that is rock steady enough to handle the assault of all three guitars. The group, as is their wont, ride the main riff throughout, complemented by a healthy dose of lead flourishes and squalls. This is anchored by a formidable rhythm section which boasts plenty of crash and bash on the drums, alongside a bass line and tone as sordid and rumbling as one could possibly want.
Then there is the wah-and-flanged riffery of Tarrare, a track about a 17th-century French showman and soldier of noted appetite who consumed anything and everything, including corks, stones, live cats, and yes, toddlers. Despite the macabre subject matter and vocalist Callum Howe’s mostly inaudible screeds, other than ‘stinking like a pile of shit’, this bizarre song totally works. Like a lot of Diet Of Worms, it is an exercise in punk rock guitar nihilism.
The utterly addictive, yet totally pummeling Then You’re Dead. The instrumentation throughout is, simply put, fucking crushing. The riff – as in singular, as this is The Shits we’re talking about after all – is a simple, see-saw assault, but it’s so catchy it instantly burrows deep into your brain. It sounds something like The Stooges’ Fun House, but if dragged through a few bonus layers of late ‘70s punk rock scuzz and then blasted through walls of distortion and fuzz. With such a strong central hook, it allows the other guitarists to go off with balls-out effects and shred while Howe does his thing, collectively taking this fucker to planet rock and roll and back.
Next, imagine if you will a bass tone distilled from pure ‘90s noise rock – the kind proffered by early Amphetamine Reptile bands like The Jesus Lizard, Unsane, and Helmet – mixed with ample doses of fuzz and the vibe of misanthropic, industrial-tinged UK bands like Godflesh. Do that, and you might achieve the vicious, filthy, earth-rumbling sound of Change My Ways.
this monster of a record is as addictive and nuanced as it is pulverizing…
To describe this beast as anything other than a Herculean, pummeling, distorted head-nodder of the highest order would be doing it a disservice and is one of the most seething, menacing tracks I have encountered thus far this year. It is set up brilliantly as simple, clean, garage rock strums tease a less malevolent direction, at least until the proverbial hammer gets dropped by the rhythm section of bassist Jack Kennedy and drummer Harry Rogers. By the time the triple-guitar attack from Henry Gibson, Sam Booth and Thomas Pighills locks in, it’s like a ferocious garage-punk combination of those aforementioned Am Rep bands and a seventies AC/DC deep cut like Overdose in terms of its next-level riff and rhythm bombardment.
Joyless Satisfaction feels like an ironic title, and I say that with tongue firmly planted in cheek. While staying in the same vein as the previous track, it is all at once more foreboding and pissed off, which suits Howe’s tone and cadence well. It also serves as a wicked vehicle for the guitarists to utterly unload squalls of distorted shred to devastating effect.
The title track, Diet Of Worms, is a short, dirty, cynical dirge, while the penultimate Thank You For Being A Friend is probably the band’s most ‘accessible’ number to date. Once again anchored by ruthless, pounding bass, this song is a fun blast of addictive garage punk that left me hitting ‘repeat’ multiple times while absorbing it as I felt I was only scratching the surface of all the fuzzy, wicked interplay between the guitarists.
We reach the end of our journey with the scum-encrusted, six-plus-minute, cathartic requiem Three O’Clock In The Morning. Sounding exactly like its title, it is able to conjure the individual listeners’ own experiences at those weird hours, serving as an exemplary rock and roll cleansing to end this killer, unique album.
To put it mildly, I absolutely loved Diet Of Worms. I remember having a few discussions with The Shaman himself, as he was a huge fan of You’re A Mess while I found it a bit too repetitive for my tastes. Well, I can firmly say that I’ve come around and I’m now extolling this band’s virtues. I guess I finally ‘got it’ because this monster of a record is as addictive and nuanced as it is pulverizing. It is going to take some massive releases to dislodge this from my year-end list. Cool cover art as well.
Label: Rocket Recordings
Band Links: Facebook | Bandcamp | Spotify | Instagram
Scribed by: Martin Williams
