Review: Shields – Death & Connection

Style: Mathcore, metalcore (Mixed vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Bring Me The Horizon, Architects, Enter Shikari
Country: United Kingdom
Release Date: 30 January 2026
[Death & Connection, along with this review, contain content warnings for domestic abuse and suicide, with an additional content warning on Death & Connection for alcohol addiction. Please engage with them only if you feel comfortable doing so.]
Death & Connection marks Shields’ first release in the aftermath of former guitarist George Christie’s death, returning to the studio after an eight-year hiatus. Bearing the weight of loss and unafraid to engage with tragedy, Death & Connection serves as a catharsis and processing of the abuse and the unexpected death of a family member experienced by lead singer Joe Edwards, on top of the loss of Christie. Trauma and tragedy are present in every lyric, as Shields’ members utilize their survived experiences as fuel to create Death & Connection. To not touch on the finer details of their context would be a disservice to Shields’ members and their experiences.
Death & Connection opens with “This Is Not a Dream,” a spoken word poem over ambient bells, winds, and a haunting synth melody, recounting what Edwards described to Kerrang! as a “harrowing event that [he] suffered at the hands of [his] ex.” Artistically, the poem is not breaking new ground; there is neither a defined rhyme scheme nor intentional syllabic structure. Rather, the power of the poetry is in its poignant presentation: raw, unfiltered, punctuated with guttural flair as the narration crescendos. Men speaking out about domestic abuse is uncommon, and doing so in such a vulnerable manner must be acknowledged for opening the door for others to recount their own experiences. “This Is Not a Dream” returns to a neutral spoken word to close, reprising the opening passages before a deep breath transitions into a ripping scream to open “Abuser,” the first of three short transition tracks throughout Death & Connection. The interstitial track is a furious, raging frenzy of screaming over blast beats and heavily distorted guitar that sets the tone of anguish and release for the majority of the album.
Further anger, resentment, and resigned acceptance of past abuse are explored through other tracks. “Womb” combines intriguing odd-time drumming with otherwise standard metalcore fare, with a wall of guitar sound that overwhelms both the harshly screamed verses and clean, anthemic choruses. The drums on “Lacerate” take on a drum’n’bass rhythm, bobbing and weaving underneath some chirping electronic effects, before exploding into a wall of sound as Harvey Freeman (Graphic Nature) lends his voice to Shields, providing a darker growling vocal to accent Edwards’ screams. The soundscape across the heavier tracks is muddy, with an overload of sound at the lower registers making it difficult to tease out individual components as they overpower the higher end. The harsh vocals lack a flair to distinguish them from other acts, resulting in a pair of tracks that feature Death & Connection’s engaging drumming but are otherwise forgettable, a shortcoming that extends to the majority of the album.
“Brother’s Lament” is another short poem, read with an autotune that I found distracted from Edwards’ expression of grief; it serves as an intro to “Red & Green,” Edwards’ musical outlet for the loss of his brother. Edwards sings cleanly to start, riding the line at the edge of desperate screams, while guitars with less distortion than the preceding tracks creates a small reprieve within the rapids. Harsh vocals accent the depth of the loss as Edwards’ emotions crash upon the shore of another spoken word poem, intertwining traumatic experiences together as he recalls the dreams of his brother coming to him in varying shades beside visions of the abuse described in “This Is Not a Dream,” an expression of the complicated manner in which traumas coexist.
The final track of Death & Connection engages directly and explicitly with the loss of Shields’ former guitarist, George Christie, to suicide on January 31, 2018. “Miss Me” was written only a day after the funeral, an attempt to process the loss finally brought to the studio seven years on. Starting softly with Edwards playing violin under the weight of heartwrenching vocals and forlorn acoustic guitar, “Miss Me” begins as a solo acoustic piece, save for piercing beats of what seems to be an electric drum pad. This softer passage transitions to a hollowed-out anthem sung by guitarist Sam Kubrick-Finney that wouldn’t be out of place on a record from The Amity Affliction before culminating with Edwards’ shuddering breaths as he chokes back his anguish. “Miss Me” plays out the album loud and proud even through its heartbreak, standing in stark contrast to the skittering pace and wolfish aggression that the rest of the Death & Connection features. While not originally written for Shields—or for any musical project of Edwards’—”Miss Me” is an earnest tribute to a friend gone far too soon, one which I find myself returning to because of the rawness of its lyricism.
Death & Connection is an intense album, all at once a eulogy for two men lost years apart from each other and a cathartic release after domestic abuse. Life doesn’t pause, often bundling senseless tragedies together, an avalanche of struggle. Shields bundle their pain and try to make sense of it, and I truly hope they accomplished that for themselves. While the lyricism and vulnerability in Death & Connection are strong and worthy of praise, musically it doesn’t stand out above the crowd, save the poignancy and raw emotion present in “Miss Me,” which delivers an unforgettable gut punch to what is otherwise a fairly unmemorable return to recording.
Recommended tracks: Lacerate, Red & Green, Miss Me
You may also like: Weston Super Maim, Glass Cloud, Frostbitt
Final verdict: 5.5/10
Related links: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Label: Long Branch Records
Shields is:
– Joe Edwards: vocals
– Sam Kubrick Finney: guitars, vocals
– Alastair Wain: drums
– Krishan Pujara: bass
With guests:
– Harvey Freeman: vocals
– Taylor Barber: vocals
– Jonathan Finney: vocals
0 Comments