If you listen to a lot of contemporary metalcore records, you develop a certain weariness; a low tolerance for trends, copying, spot-the-difference and heard-it-before sounds that leave you wishing for something different. Shields then send you their new record and, well, you asked for it.
Shields are not a new band. They folded back in 2018 after the tragic loss of their founding guitarist George Christie. This means that ‘Death & Connection’ is more than a comeback record. After seven years away, it’s a chance to process that loss. Indeed, it’s an album defined and haunted by it. In many ways, it is a lot.
Setting things off on a divisive foot, the album opens with a spoken-word passage explicitly about death. Titled ‘This Is Not A Dream’, it’s mildly derivative, but clearly heart on sleeve. Then, out of nowhere, it throws a guttural C-Bomb that jars at odds with the piece’s tone, followed by Garth Marenghi styled synths. There’s no doubting its sincerity yet its delivery feels well meaning but slightly askew. Thankfully, things become significantly more interesting throughout the rest of the record. Rather than settle into a rhythm, the band continues to swing for absolutely every single fence. There is a frankly glorious lack of restraint, seeing the band either smash it directly out of the park, or miss wildly. It is, putting it mildly, an experience.
At their most straightforward, ‘Abuser’ is as nasty and vicious as its title suggests. Lasting just over a minute, it’s a ripping slice of deathcore, all spitting, snarling and swearing. Similarly, ‘Wolfskin’ is a nasty, scrappy song that uses a harsh guitar tone to grip you like a set of claws, then proceeds to drag you through its short runtime. However, the band’s real gift is their restless creativity. Every other song seems to consist of two or more conflicting ideas, not all of which are compatible. This pays off handsomely when it works, but that isn’t always the case.
Returning members, vocalist Joe Edwards and guitarist Samuel Kubrick Finney, are joined by the rhythm section of Alastair Wain (drums) and Krishan Pujara (bass). This change is vital to the sound, and not just for the massive grooves underscoring songs like ‘Lacerate‘ or ‘Abuser’ either. It provides a bed for the vocals on ‘Womb’, and the complex tug-of-war underpinning ‘Red & Green’ just wouldn’t work if the drums didn’t lurch and loll in such an off-kilter way.
One of the record’s strangest elements is Edwards’ mixture of vocal styles. The clean singing on ‘Parasites’ and ‘Womb’ or the rabid spitting and snarling on ‘Abuser’ show that he’s versatile. It can be extremely engaging – even his speaking voice offers a lot – it’s shame there wasn’t a stronger guiding hand. Untethered from genre, and without a clear sense of direction, it’s not hard to see why some of the big swings miss.
Nothing about the record feels safe, at all. Rarely does more than a minute pass without something strange and unforeseen rupturing its fabric. ‘Red & Green’ plays in the same sandbox as early Bring Me The Horizon, mixing twisting guitar parts with a heartfelt chorus, before throwing in a spoken-word passage for good measure. ‘Parasite’ ruptures its runtime with a distinctly gnarly whammy guitar solo. This, in its own way, captures the swirl of emotion that accompanies loss at the expense of coherence. This also appears to be how they end up with the uncompromising genius of a song like ‘Kill’, which makes a staggeringly odd series of choices that result in a deathcore track that sandwiches a swaggering impersonation of The Streets between its huge choruses. It’s bold, engaging and truly inspired, proving that even the wildest swings can hit a home run.
For all the inspiration in the middle, the record’s closing moments are as rocky as its opening. The title track is hampered by weak production values. Sounding like it was recorded in a funfair, it falls far short of its grand ambition. The closing ballad ‘Miss Me’ suffers a similar fate. Built around a mixture of raw honesty and confession, it expands into grandiosity.
Like the introduction, you don’t doubt its honesty or sincerity, but the taste is questionable. Sitting in an awkward space between intimate and epic, it sometimes misses the mark, lingering without providing the catharsis it’s clearly intending to represent. To quote the famous essayist Susan Sontag; ‘The work tells all’. It’s a confused mixture of emotions that are too tightly wound.
Shields should be congratulated for reuniting and making something so strange and distinctive. The opener aside, there is a lot to like about their comeback record. For better or worse, it makes some extremely strong choices that lead to polarising results. ‘Death & Connection’ is an intense and unwelcoming fever dream.
IAN KENWORTHY