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Review | Panic Shack – Panic Shack


Label: Brace Yourself Records

Rating: 3.5 out of 5.
By Ed Thurlow

In breathless rhythm and punk-eyed reverie, Panic Shack have got this thing going – this clatter, this spit, this glitter noise.

Renowned for their unruly, coordinated chaos on stage, Panic Shack have earned a reputation as one of the UK’s most compelling new live acts. A gig in your gut, with a hair-trigger temper. 

Rising from the heart of Cardiff’s DIY scene, Panic Shack released their long-awaited debut self-titled album on July 18th. The band first teased the album with ‘Gok Wan‘, a searing, synth-spiked takedown of early 2000s tabloid culture and its toxic messaging around body image.

Premiered on BBC 6 Music by Huw Stephens, the single earned a place on the station’s B-list rotation and was widely praised for its raw honesty and cutting humour. The guitar solo is bare-bones, almost clumsy – but in that DIY way that makes you feel like you could play it too. Punk isn’t about polish.

It takes aim at the era’s razor-thin ideals with biting satire, most notably flipping Kate Moss’ infamous line, “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels”, into a middle finger rather than a mantra.

The album takes shots at toxic media and cultural nonsense, throwing down lines that are as much callouts as they are conversation starters. The lyrics shoot down toxic media, Hinge swiping cliches, and club creeps. 

Girl Band Starter Pack skewers reductive industry stereotypes with the band’s signature bite. These aren’t deep dives. But they work. They land. This is punk as everyday empowerment. A strong opener with a tight bassline that walks. At one minute thirty, the band lets the song breathe – a welcome moment of space, synths widening the edges, it lifts.

The ghosts are there – The Slits, The Clash, The Sugababes, Amyl and The Sniffers… Echoes of Le Tigre’s ‘Deceptacon. But these are the obvious parallels… Panic Shack doesn’t reinvent the wheel; they joyride. Their reverence for those icons shapes a familiar soundscape – the snarl, the staccato rhythms.

Lazy drifts into jungle-inflected breaks – in that moment, it’s twitching again, danceable, grooving… Yeah! Around the two-minute mark, the synths wobble, wandering in from another session: charming or off-putting depending on your tolerance for disparate moods. The ending goes full synth overload – strange, but committed. 

Tit School carries the torch of The Slits. It’s the bass again that grounds it – steady, strutting, chewing gravel. The hook “First they laugh, and then they copy”  is catchy as hell. Vocally, there’s an edge that leans almost to the theatrical: not drama school, but punk pantomime. The lyrics remain weaponised in their delivery. 

Do Something offers metal-strained basslines and enough fuzz to hang your laundry on. Tracks like ‘Pockets pack a cultural punch – the simple demand for women’s clothing to include pockets is a clever revolution – a nod to sexist-riddled, forced consumerism, which small pockets personify.

‘Thelma & Louise’, an ode to its namesake, is a bold and infectious composition of unshakeable friendship and platonic love. Razor-edged pop hooks with a sun-drenched sense of freedom. Described as their first and likely only love song, ‘Thelma & Louise’ is a bright, infectious track that swaps saturated romantic tropes for an ode to friends that stick with you.

Panic Shack aren’t chasing perfection. They’re making a noise because they’ve got too much inside and no time left to wait. It’s vital right now, and it’s tweaking. The music is lean, it’s twitchy, it’s bloodied knees on pavement riffs. 

The production from Ali Chant holds the chaos. There’s evolution here – new harmonies, unexpected synths, and brass trills – but the band’s live hallmark grit and urgency remain. This ain’t polite. This ain’t subtle. This ain’t for you man.

There’s humour in the hate, or hate in the humour. I’m not sure. That’s the point – it’s not trying to charm you. This isn’t an album waiting for you. It has its own agenda, and if you’re on board, good. Panic Shack knows what they’re doing, and they certainly don’t need your permission. For the fans that have been following the band since ‘The Ick,‘ you’re going to love this. 


Listen to ‘Panic Shack’ here:


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