If there's one thing Panic Shack know, it's how to have a good time. Comprised of Sarah Harvey (vocals), Meg Fretwell (guitar/backing vocals), Romi Lawrence (guitar/backing vocals), Em Smith (bass/backing vocals) and Nick Williams (drums), the band formed in 2018 as a middle-finger to the “members-only club” atmosphere of indie and punk scenes – not just because they’re male-dominated, but because they make playing music seem out of reach or, even worse, boring. “Boys make it look so hard,” Em says, rolling her eyes. “Whenever I see someone on the floor fiddling with their pedals with a face like a slapped arse I think, you're making this look so unattainable and it’s actually so fucking easy.” This carefree approach gives Panic Shack’s music the same effect as popping a bottle of Prosecco – explosive, intoxicating, and delightfully chaotic. With barely any music available online, they built a word-of-mouth following off the back of their live shows, which have been praised for fusing “thrashy early LA-style punk with choreography that owes something to the Go-Go’s and Iron Maiden all at once” (The Guardian). To be released in July, Panic Shack’s self-titled debut album represents a serious level up. Linking up with producer Ali Chant (PJ Harvey, Perfume Genius, Yard Act), it finds the band expanding their gutsy punk sound into fuller territory, packed with vocal harmonies, synths, electronic experimentation, and even a trumpet at one point. Over 11 breakneck tracks, Panic Shack never lets up or loses momentum. It opens with the rising sound of chatter, glass clinking and laughter, most of which was recorded in the beer garden at an Amyl & the Sniffers gig. Fizzing with the anticipation of walking into a club at the start of a night out, it feels like party-punk’s answer to the intro of Spice Girls’ ‘Wannabe’. From there, the bouncy bass line and blistering guitars of ‘Girl Band Starter Band’ kick in, and the band pulls you into their world the way a friend would grab your hand and drag you onto the dancefloor. “Four iced lattes / Sit outside / Smoke a rolly / Sun is shining / People watching / Things are moving / Got us talking…” Sarah chants, the pace ramping up like a heartbeat beginning to race. Across the album, the lyrics are conversational, often stemming from in-jokes, while the subject matter spans the full range of the feminine experience. Whether it’s everyday stuff like browsing Hinge (‘Unhinged’) and remembering everything you need to stick in your bag because your dress has no pockets (‘Pockets’), or broader societal issues like the impact of toxic tabloid culture on body image (‘Gok Wan’) and sexual harassment (‘SMELLARAT’), no topic is too frivolous or too vast. There’s no point-scoring or political commentary to be made here, though. The songs spring naturally from the way they live their lives, which is, more often than not, with a great deal of enjoyment. Irresistible because of their simplicity and charming because of their familiarity, Panic Shack are the answer to a question that, quite frankly, isn’t asked often enough: what if the funniest girls you know started a band? The sonic equivalent to a coming-of-age film unfolding over a single night, Panic Shack takes the shape of a bender, beginning by approaching a bar and ending with an impassioned speech at sunrise about how much you love your friends. Swerving the expected topics of sex and romance, the entire album revolves around the ionic bond between the four girls.
