Hailing from Hamilton, ON, Shade takes the most vital parts of the music they grew up on—Brit rock’s ambitious sneer, neo-psychedelia’s mind-melting hooks, and grunge’s punk-infused heaviness—and turbocharges them, building an assault of sound that can shake the foundations of a stadium just as readily as it razes a grimy dive bar. It pulls from the storied halls of rock ‘n’ roll Valhalla while injecting a much-needed dose of 21st-century verve, like a Frankenstein’s monster stitched together by wild riffs, fists-raised riots, and evil energy.
Shade’s shadowy and razor-sharp six-string raucousness is an all-consuming beast, bruising with a dark and doomy swagger one moment, and pushing skywards with hazy, transcendental trips the next.
Doom and gloom, sexy indie rock. Simple as that.