Shopping’s whole thing could not be more antithetical to their name. And yet, since their formation in 2012, the English post-punk trio have adamantly refuted claims that their music intentionally broadcasts a political dogma. Any commentary, they insisted, was simply a reflection of what was on their minds, not an attempt at proselytizing. “We are slaves to the system, so we have to write our frustrations down when we make this music,” drummer Andrew Milk explained to Stereogum in 2015. “[It] was never the intention to be political; we explicitly just wanted to make people dance.”
But three years later, the stakes are higher, and Shopping have wrangled their elastic spirit into an urgency that feels bonded to our present, catastrophic atmosphere. On their third record, The Official Body, they dig deeper into the identity politics, power complexes, and content criticism that defined 2013’s Consumer Complaints and 2015’s Why Choose. But like their subtle politicism, Shopping continue to resist evangelizing screeds. Instead, their critical messages occur as blunt, brief repetitions woven into the greater musical texture. On opener “The Hype,” guitarist Rachel Aggs and Milk engage in a bellowed round-robin dialogue about subliminal media brainwashing over a jagged guitar riff. “Don’t believe! Ask questions,” bassist Billy Easter chimes in. Without ever skirting close to what New York Magazine’s Molly Fischer recently coined as “entertainment-as-think-piece,” “The Hype” accomplishes its appeal for autonomy by gently nudging rather than aggressively prodding.
Whereas Shopping have previously relied on a strict three-piece arsenal—along with the production work of Orange Juice’s Edwyn Collins—the band have fleshed out their interwoven rhythms with synth bass and drum pads. The geologic levels of synth and bass in tracks like “Wild Child” and “Discover” make Shopping’s previous efforts sound downright minimalist in comparison. While not being as light-footed as one of Aggs’ other projects, the indie-pop duo Sacred Paws, The Official Body creates upbeat, transformative moments that strike a balance between a call to action and the thrill of a humid mosh pit.
Shopping excel when their music sweeps the listener away into a tangle of tempos. Milk’s driving drumbeats, Easter’s swaying bass, and Aggs’ tap-dancing guitar form a tighter sound than ever, a mesmerizing spider web that collapses when a sharp lyric pierces through: “This is such a simple thing/You don’t like me/I don’t look like you,” Aggs poses on “My Dad’s a Dancer” before emitting an unexpectedly joyous, “Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha,” à la the Julie Ruin. Rather than underselling or distracting from Aggs’ sincere quandary, the outburst intensifies how often she has considered her role as the other. It’s a heartbreaking moment conveyed with inspiring levity.
Aggs’ guitar often acts as a pressure valve, inflating the sonic bubble until it's about to burst. On “Asking for a Friend,” her needling sounds so tight it could shatter. “Where will I go to find some peace,” she pleads as her fingers run a marathon on the frets. “Suddenly Gone,” a meditation on being a queer artist of color, finds its strength in interplay between its subtle lyrics and acute instrumental punctuations. On “Shave Your Head,” Milk wanders through a world consumed by Groupthink, identical haircuts, and interchangeable faces. “I can’t I can’t I can’t tell you apart,” Milk babbles as Aggs swings in to urge independence. “Break through/Feel frustrated,” she exclaims while playing an appropriately tricky melody. “Overtime,” a track about a personal crossroads and indecision, breaks into a jittery fever dream at its conclusion. “I think I finally found a way out,” Aggs proclaims, kicking through the turmoil with hope and wonder.
Shopping are not reinventing the wheel and they do not need to—the halls of post-punk are already too full of guitars that are angular. The trio is so refreshing and exhilarating because of the space they elbow-out for themselves and the vibrant spirit they pump into the exhausted genre, proving that simply adding some cavernous echo to a track isn’t enough. There’s no proper formula of funky riffs + danceability + fearless ethos that makes a hit. Shopping know that to invert tradition, you’ve gotta have some fun too.
