Some bands play music. Others create worlds. Shame On Me doesn’t just perform; they conjure something magical—an otherworldly blend of Texicajun soul, spooky doo-wop, and emotional truth that can’t be boxed into one genre. They’re a sonic gumbo, seasoned with reverb-soaked guitars, haunting harmonies, and raw authenticity.
But here’s the thing about Shame On Me: it’s not just their music that leaves a mark—it’s their presence, their spirit, and the undeniable magic they bring to every room they’re in.
The Beginning of a Hypnotic Journey
The first time I filmed Shame On Me for Long River Sessions, I got a taste of their talent. By the second session, I was hypnotized. Their music hit me like a nostalgia bomb, making me homesick for a place I couldn’t even name—a home that doesn’t exist. I’m not from Texas, but their sound transported me somewhere deep, somewhere universal. When they performed “Twice” during that second session, I had to fight back tears and a lump in my throat the entire time. That’s when I knew: I needed Shame On Me in my life.
From that point on, they weren’t just a band I admired—they became my friends. I made it a point to catch them live whenever I could, soaking in their energy and the magic they brought to every performance. I even got the chance to film a show or two, but the most unforgettable moment came when I saw them at Flamingo Cantina in Austin. I was there shooting some SXSW events, and the stars aligned—I got to introduce them to an old film school friend. That night felt surreal, like two parts of my world coming together. Shame On Me owned the stage, and my friend, much like me, was immediately captivated by their spellbinding presence.
Mel and Jewelz: My Angels
Every member of Shame On Me is a force of nature, but Mel and Jewelz have a special place in my heart. Mel, with her powerhouse vocals and no-nonsense wisdom, is the person you call when life feels heavy. She doesn’t sugarcoat anything but somehow makes you feel lighter with her words. Jewelz, on the other hand, has this almost psychic ability to check in right when you need someone the most. Her 90s R&B-influenced voice is breathtaking on its own, but paired with Mel’s fiery delivery, it’s a combination that’s nothing short of soul-shattering.
Watching them perform is an experience in itself. Mel gets into a trance when she sings, channeling something bigger than herself. You can feel it—it’s electric, and you know something monumental is about to happen. Then there’s Ro on guitar, bringing textures that are equal parts swampy and ethereal, and Boss Kelly on drums, grounding the chaos in rhythm. Together, they create something deeply emotional, haunting, and alive.
The Sound of Something Bigger
Calling Shame On Me a band feels almost reductive—they’re a living, breathing piece of Houston’s cultural fabric. Their music doesn’t just entertain; it transforms. Songs like “Baby Daddy” and “Lucky” dig deep into human emotion, balancing humor and heartbreak with masterful ease. Tracks like “Come Over” and “Twice” pull at the strings of nostalgia, leaving you raw but grateful for the ride.
Shame On Me describes their sound as “spooky doo-wop,” and it fits. But even that doesn’t fully capture the layers of their music. They pull from their roots—Mel’s honky-tonk and Tejano influences, Jewelz’s upbringing as a Child of Deaf Adults (Coda), and their shared connection to spiritual practices like Santeria. These elements weave into something that feels both deeply personal and universally resonant. It’s a sound that defies easy categorization but stays with you long after the last note.
Why Shame On Me Matters
Shame On Me isn’t just a band to me—they’re family. They’ve given me not just incredible music but also friendship, inspiration, and a reminder of why I do what I do. Their music feeds my soul, and their presence makes me feel seen. I’ve watched them bring that same magic to countless others, whether in intimate studio sessions, packed live shows, or spontaneous conversations.
If you haven’t listened to Shame On Me yet, you’re missing out on something truly rare. They’re not just creating music; they’re creating connection, a space for emotions to run wild, and a platform for everyone to feel a little less alone. Their performances are a reminder that, even in a chaotic world, there’s beauty and meaning to be found in the art we make and the people we share it with.
To Mel, Jewelz, Ro, Boss Kelly, and everyone who makes up the force of nature that is Shame On Me: thank you. Thank you for your music, your friendship, and the magic you bring to the world. Houston is lucky to have you. And so am I.
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