West Yorkshire–home of Yorkshire Ripper Peter Sutcliffe, BBC personality and infamous sexual predator Jimmy Savile, professional wrestler Rampage Brown and the Rhubarb Triangle (don’t ask)—is as good a place as any to spawn one of the rarest of all things, an English noise rock band.
They’re called The Shits, and I don’t get the idea they want to be your friend, which makes the title of their new single, “Thank You for Being a Friend,” such a hoot.
Noise rock—or the best noise rock anyway—is largely an American, and more particularly an American Midwest phenomenon. Cows, Killdozer, the Jesus Lizard, Big Black, and experimental noise rockers U.S. Maple all hailed from Fly-Over Country. But England? I can’t think of a single noise rock band, although Gnod can pass if you’re the “Big Tent” type.
Or so it went until the Shits came along, producing an ugly din on two LPs (2020’s Punishment and 2023’s You’re a Mess) and some singles. And they’ve released two 2026 singles in advance of forthcoming album Diet of Worms, which, if the singles are any indication, promises to be their most uncompromising and remorseless full-length yet.
And that’s saying something. The title track of “You’re a Mess” is a piledriver mounted on a rocket sled, and vocalist Callum Howe sounds about as nice as the football hooligan in Bill Buford’s Among the Thugs who literally sucked an eyeball out of some unfortunate fellow football hooligan. And he looks the part.
“Thank You for Being a Friend” follows on the heels of 2026’s “Joyless Satisfaction,” which has fueled frequent (and de rigeur even) comparisons to The Stooges and the Swedish berserkers in Brainbombs. The Stooges are not a particularly good comparison; Howe is bellicose where Iggy is simply deranged—he’s trapped, and he wants out. He’s a “blowtorch in bondage,” as Lester Bangs so aptly put it.
Howe? He’s dying to start a brawl. And there’s more unfettered anarchy in The Stooges’ sound. The two singles released in advance of Diet of Worms are unrelenting—their rhythm section isn’t “Loose,” it invades Poland.
The Shits’ sound is huge, pummeling, all titanic bottom and feedback, with one guitar providing muscle and the other one sort of hanging around doing the psychedelic shred or the Middle Eastern boogie. And over it, Hallum barks out short phrases, like a particularly mean Rottweiler pausing for breath. It sounds like they threw chum in the water, and here come the sharks.
“Thank You for Being a Friend” hilariously recycles the title of an Andrew Gold song, and the title has to be sarcastic—Howe radiates hostility, and sounds throughout like he’d like nothing more than to head-butt you, then put the boot in. Howe sounds like the kind of person whose friends studiously avoid Howe, because he sounds unpredictable when drunk and never sober.
The song opens with some guitar in the left channel, then some answering guitar in the right channel, and so on, and the menace is immediately in the red zone. Then the guitars take off, all “fuck flower power” psychedelic power chord mind-twist. I do hear some Stooges in those guitars, but the rhythm section is more undeviating, and the thrust is both unbelievable and undeviating.
The guitars don’t scream, they howl, and just like on “Joyless Satisfaction,” Howe bellows short phrases, indecipherable for the most part (and I can’t find the lyrics), and once again the general effect leads you to hope this guy has gotten his rabies shots.
To hear him repeat the title (as he does with great frequency) is to hope he’s not talking to you, because he sounds like you personally let him down, and he intends to do damage to both your jaw and your kidneys.
“Thank You for Being a Friend” is the most primal blast of twisted guitar fury you’re likely to hear in 2026, that is, unless Pissed Jeans—the greatest successor to the mantle of Cows, Killdozer, etc.—can do better. Ecstatic Vision could also top it.
The Shits’ new one slams you in the solar plexus and never lets up—they drive the same riff (fuck choruses) up your ear holes while the guitars create a whirlwind that will have even your heaviest furniture in the air, poltergeisting around the room. Be careful.
My only caveat when it comes to The Shits is they’re not funny. When it comes to noise rock, humor is what I value most. All of the bands I love crack me up. Check out Killdozer’s “Hamburger Martyr” or “New Pants and Shirt.” Or Pissed Jeans’ “Boring Girls.” And Shannon Selberg of Cows is the funniest guy I’ve ever seen on a stage, although he had an uncanny ability to be hilarious and frightening at the same time.
The Shits specialize in rage, and can’t be bothered to leaven it with laughter. Which is their call. But angry white guys tend to get on my nerves after a while. Would a chuckle kill them?
Give “Thank You for Being a Friend” a listen. The Shits don’t play songs; they let themselves into your house and break things. I suggest some sort of head protection. And a personal bodyguard. There is simply so much music out there that I don’t understand. The Shits, I get. West Yorkshire is famous for its beets. The Shits sound like they want to give you a beating.
That said, I can’t escape the nagging suspicion that they’re actually a bunch of really nice guys. So do the right thing and invite them over to your house. Then let me know how it turns out.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
