steel. ripped through the monotony of passive tolerance with DFTTM (don’t fucking talk to me), a protestive anthem that doesn’t flinch while delivering its seething sermon on self-preservation. The female-led trio, forged in Liverpool’s underground in 2023, have already honed their spoken word-soaked post-punk into a serrated art form, setting themselves apart with a snarling, moody aesthetic rooted in the lineage of Sonic Youth, Velvet Underground, and Pixies without rinsing their legacy for easy cool points.
With DFTTM, steel. launched a riptide of angular no-wave indie guitars and scathing lyrical defiance. It’s a full-bodied reaction to every dynamic and extension of condescension you’ve ever swallowed, loaded with the kind of vindication that leaves nothing but a scorched void in its wake. Cultdreams-esque spoken word discontent collides with a pulse that could tear right through the jugular of a juggernaut. It riles on every conceivable level, and never once pulls its punches.
This is the sound of a band that has outgrown the standard punk tantrum. They’ve turned frustration into a weapon. The kinetic energy bleeding from the instrumentation gives DFTTM a purpose beyond rebellion for the sake of noise. The morality running through it is sharp, unfeigned, and unapologetic. With support slots for Big Joanie, Skating Polly, and Lou Barlow’s Folk Implosion already behind them, steel. are fast becoming the sonic frontline of DIY queer punk, and they are far from finished.
DFTTM is now available to stream on all major platforms, including Spotify.
Review by Amelia Vandergast
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