There’s no two ways about it: PUP (short for Pathetic Use of Potential) is one of the best punk bands of the decade, and their latest effort, Morbid Stuff, only serves to cement them among a pantheon of fantastic bands making heartfelt music characterized by big riffs, honest lyricism, and singalong choruses.
PUP fever has extended well beyond the Great White North and into the States, with the Stefan Babcock-helmed band returning to a sold-out Royale for a second show after selling the place out this past April. It’s an early show, owing to the venue’s double life as a nightclub, but well before the doors open, a slew of punks lined up outside, snaking down past the corner of Tremont Street in the heart of Boston’s theatre district.
“Kids” Premiered Jan 30, 2019
It’s not a coincidence that one concertgoer remarks early on, “Every song is a banger!” And it’s true – Babcock and band have mastered, perhaps better than any other band in contemporary punk music, the art of making virtually every track an anthem that sticks in your head and never lets go.
The vast majority of the audience knows every word, even to the new album, and it’s a glorious cacophony when they all join together in song. From the first notes, the dance floor of the Royale is a sea of arms and elbows, with rowdy kids cascading over the barrier into the photo pit before being hurried out, likely to do it all again a few songs later.
From above, the show looks like something out of a Hieronymus Bosch painting. Moody, dynamic lights are cast out over the crowd, a throbbing mass of happy punks; most of them young and some of them not, moshing around, all facing different directions, all faces in their individual expressions of happiness. No one stops singing, be they flinging from one side of the room to the other in a mass of sweat and joy, or carried upon dozens of pairs of hands above the crowd.
Babcock himself heads into the crowd twice, buoyed from below by a throng of fans who through it all never miss a syllable. Each member of the band – drummer Zack Mykula, guitarist Steve Sladowski, and bassist Nestor Chumak – has backing vocal duties, but for much of the show the crowd becomes a fifth member, their voices filling the room amply from front to back.
Where their previous Royale gig focused primarily on the new material of Morbid Stuff, PUP change things up for the second time around, diving back more frequently into the record that truly launched them to a new level of punk stardom, The Dream is Over. Despite the fact that every song rises to a similar level of ecstatic climax, the band’s songwriting is far from one-note. A particular highlight is ‘The Coast’, where Babcock writes his own horror movie about a northern Canadian lake and uses its hungry, weighty grasp as a metaphor for his own emotional turmoil.
Thematically, ‘The Coast’ is consistent with much of the band’s music. While the framing changes, Babcock’s got a sense of anxiety that permeates every PUP record. It’s this engine that allows him to turn lines like “I never felt so shitty before, I never felt so miserable” into huge choruses – that particular one hails from ‘Familiar Patterns’, about his disillusionment with the music industry.
‘If This Tour Doesn’t Kill You Then I Will’ strikes a similarly stressful tone, beginning with a playfully deceptive and sardonic acoustic passage before Babcock allows his anger to emerge in full and segue into another stellar cut, ‘DVP’. Newer tracks from Morbid Stuff, like ‘Free at Last’, offer examinations of toxic relationships and depression, and ‘Scorpion Hill’, with which the band ends the night, is a harrowing tale of losing oneself in a dismal state.
Between songs, the band is gracious. Babcock makes a point to thank the crowd for coming and to show appreciation for the security team. Sladowski talks at one point about how the band is partnering with local charities on every stop of their tour, and in Boston they’re donating some of their proceeds to a charity that funds gender reassignment surgery for young people.
Though PUP’s music constantly confronts heavy subject matter with raw and unflinching language, the band haven’t let their own light be dimmed, and there’s a sense of camaraderie and understanding that flows through each and every one of their PUP songs – even the bleakest ones.
Review and photos by Collin Heroux
