Cat No: DOC324cd

If Songs of Praise was fuelled by pint-sloshing teenage vitriol,
then Drunk Tank Pink delved into a different kind of intensity.

Wading into uncharted musical waters, emboldened by their

wit and earned cynicism, they created something with the

abandon of a band who had nothing to lose. Having forced

their way through their second album’s identity crisis, they

arrive, finally, at a place of hard-won maturity. Enter: Food

for Worms, which Steen declares to be “the Lamborghini of

shame records.”


It marks a sonic departure from anything they’ve done

before, abandoning their post-punk beginnings for more

eclectic influences, drawing from the tense atmospherics of

Merchandise, the sharp yet uncomplicated lyrics of Lou Reed

and the more melodic works of 90s German band, Blumfeld.


For the first time, the band are not delving inwards, but

seeking to capture the world around them. “I don’t think you

can be in your own head forever,” says Steen. A conversation

after one of their gigs with a friend prompted a stray thought

that he held onto: “It’s weird, isn’t it? Popular music is always

about love, heartbreak, or yourself. There isn’t much about

your mates.” In many ways, the album is an ode to friendship,

and a documentation of the dynamic that only five people

who have grown up together – and grown so close, against all

odds – can share.

 

Food For Worms

From £6.99

Cat No: DOC324cd

If Songs of Praise was fuelled by pint-sloshing teenage vitriol,
then Drunk Tank Pink delved into a different kind of intensity.
Wading into uncharted musical waters, emboldened by their
wit and earned cynicism, they created something with the
abandon of a band who had nothing to lose. Having forced
their way through their second album’s identity crisis, they
arrive, finally, at a place of hard-won maturity. Enter: Food
for Worms, which Steen declares to be “the Lamborghini of
shame records.”

It marks a sonic departure from anything they’ve done
before, abandoning their post-punk beginnings for more
eclectic influences, drawing from the tense atmospherics of
Merchandise, the sharp yet uncomplicated lyrics of Lou Reed
and the more melodic works of 90s German band, Blumfeld.

For the first time, the band are not delving inwards, but
seeking to capture the world around them. “I don’t think you
can be in your own head forever,” says Steen. A conversation
after one of their gigs with a friend prompted a stray thought
that he held onto: “It’s weird, isn’t it? Popular music is always
about love, heartbreak, or yourself. There isn’t much about
your mates.” In many ways, the album is an ode to friendship,
and a documentation of the dynamic that only five people
who have grown up together - and grown so close, against all
odds - can share.

Cat No: DOC324cass

If Songs of Praise was fuelled by pint-sloshing teenage vitriol,
then Drunk Tank Pink delved into a different kind of intensity.
Wading into uncharted musical waters, emboldened by their
wit and earned cynicism, they created something with the
abandon of a band who had nothing to lose. Having forced
their way through their second album’s identity crisis, they
arrive, finally, at a place of hard-won maturity. Enter: Food
for Worms, which Steen declares to be “the Lamborghini of
shame records.”

It marks a sonic departure from anything they’ve done
before, abandoning their post-punk beginnings for more
eclectic influences, drawing from the tense atmospherics of
Merchandise, the sharp yet uncomplicated lyrics of Lou Reed
and the more melodic works of 90s German band, Blumfeld.

For the first time, the band are not delving inwards, but
seeking to capture the world around them. “I don’t think you
can be in your own head forever,” says Steen. A conversation
after one of their gigs with a friend prompted a stray thought
that he held onto: “It’s weird, isn’t it? Popular music is always
about love, heartbreak, or yourself. There isn’t much about
your mates.” In many ways, the album is an ode to friendship,
and a documentation of the dynamic that only five people
who have grown up together - and grown so close, against all
odds - can share.

Cat No: DOC324lp

If Songs of Praise was fuelled by pint-sloshing teenage vitriol,
then Drunk Tank Pink delved into a different kind of intensity.
Wading into uncharted musical waters, emboldened by their
wit and earned cynicism, they created something with the
abandon of a band who had nothing to lose. Having forced
their way through their second album’s identity crisis, they
arrive, finally, at a place of hard-won maturity. Enter: Food
for Worms, which Steen declares to be “the Lamborghini of
shame records.”

It marks a sonic departure from anything they’ve done
before, abandoning their post-punk beginnings for more
eclectic influences, drawing from the tense atmospherics of
Merchandise, the sharp yet uncomplicated lyrics of Lou Reed
and the more melodic works of 90s German band, Blumfeld.

For the first time, the band are not delving inwards, but
seeking to capture the world around them. “I don’t think you
can be in your own head forever,” says Steen. A conversation
after one of their gigs with a friend prompted a stray thought
that he held onto: “It’s weird, isn’t it? Popular music is always
about love, heartbreak, or yourself. There isn’t much about
your mates.” In many ways, the album is an ode to friendship,
and a documentation of the dynamic that only five people
who have grown up together - and grown so close, against all
odds - can share.

Cat No: DOC324lp-C1

If Songs of Praise was fuelled by pint-sloshing teenage vitriol,
then Drunk Tank Pink delved into a different kind of intensity.
Wading into uncharted musical waters, emboldened by their
wit and earned cynicism, they created something with the
abandon of a band who had nothing to lose. Having forced
their way through their second album’s identity crisis, they
arrive, finally, at a place of hard-won maturity. Enter: Food
for Worms, which Steen declares to be “the Lamborghini of
shame records.”

It marks a sonic departure from anything they’ve done
before, abandoning their post-punk beginnings for more
eclectic influences, drawing from the tense atmospherics of
Merchandise, the sharp yet uncomplicated lyrics of Lou Reed
and the more melodic works of 90s German band, Blumfeld.

For the first time, the band are not delving inwards, but
seeking to capture the world around them. “I don’t think you
can be in your own head forever,” says Steen. A conversation
after one of their gigs with a friend prompted a stray thought
that he held onto: “It’s weird, isn’t it? Popular music is always
about love, heartbreak, or yourself. There isn’t much about
your mates.” In many ways, the album is an ode to friendship,
and a documentation of the dynamic that only five people
who have grown up together - and grown so close, against all
odds - can share.

Cat No: DOC324lp-C2

If Songs of Praise was fuelled by pint-sloshing teenage vitriol,
then Drunk Tank Pink delved into a different kind of intensity.
Wading into uncharted musical waters, emboldened by their
wit and earned cynicism, they created something with the
abandon of a band who had nothing to lose. Having forced
their way through their second album’s identity crisis, they
arrive, finally, at a place of hard-won maturity. Enter: Food
for Worms, which Steen declares to be “the Lamborghini of
shame records.”

It marks a sonic departure from anything they’ve done
before, abandoning their post-punk beginnings for more
eclectic influences, drawing from the tense atmospherics of
Merchandise, the sharp yet uncomplicated lyrics of Lou Reed
and the more melodic works of 90s German band, Blumfeld.

For the first time, the band are not delving inwards, but
seeking to capture the world around them. “I don’t think you
can be in your own head forever,” says Steen. A conversation
after one of their gigs with a friend prompted a stray thought
that he held onto: “It’s weird, isn’t it? Popular music is always
about love, heartbreak, or yourself. There isn’t much about
your mates.” In many ways, the album is an ode to friendship,
and a documentation of the dynamic that only five people
who have grown up together - and grown so close, against all
odds - can share.

Cat No: DOC324xbnd-01

If Songs of Praise was fuelled by pint-sloshing teenage vitriol,
then Drunk Tank Pink delved into a different kind of intensity.
Wading into uncharted musical waters, emboldened by their
wit and earned cynicism, they created something with the
abandon of a band who had nothing to lose. Having forced
their way through their second album’s identity crisis, they
arrive, finally, at a place of hard-won maturity. Enter: Food
for Worms, which Steen declares to be “the Lamborghini of
shame records.”

It marks a sonic departure from anything they’ve done
before, abandoning their post-punk beginnings for more
eclectic influences, drawing from the tense atmospherics of
Merchandise, the sharp yet uncomplicated lyrics of Lou Reed
and the more melodic works of 90s German band, Blumfeld.

For the first time, the band are not delving inwards, but
seeking to capture the world around them. “I don’t think you
can be in your own head forever,” says Steen. A conversation
after one of their gigs with a friend prompted a stray thought
that he held onto: “It’s weird, isn’t it? Popular music is always
about love, heartbreak, or yourself. There isn’t much about
your mates.” In many ways, the album is an ode to friendship,
and a documentation of the dynamic that only five people
who have grown up together - and grown so close, against all
odds - can share.

Clear
Genre:Indie Rock Record Label:Dead Oceans Release Date:24/02/2023
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