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Pessimism and PUP go hand in hand. Somewhat than embroidering ‘Stay, Chuckle, Love’ into throw pillows, the Toronto punk rockers have turn into the poster boys of snot-nosed nihilism – that’s, till now. 5 releases deep, these self-deprecating scamps have inadvertently landed on their very own model of life-affirmation; whereas it’s actually no ‘Carpe Diem’, Who Will Look After The Canines? serves as a mantra for the down-but-not-out technology, banishing suicidal despair with a reminder of the defiance and downright spite that make life value dwelling.
Don’t fear: PUP haven’t gone delicate. Whereas guiding pearls of knowledge are there, each is delivered with a chew of PUP-flavoured malice. Finest Revenge paints it greatest; as Stefan Babcock howls “The very best revenge resides effectively!” his recommendation is healthful regardless of its callous undertone of vengeance. This off-beat pleasure encapsulates the document’s call-to-arms camaraderie on this burning shitheap of a world.
Who Will Look After The Canines? is bursting on the seams with this conflict of celebratory bitterness and dissonant chaos. From the jubilant No Hope to the bratty “I don’t give a shit” petulance of Concrete, PUP thrive of their fuzzy, overdrive-drunk whirlwind of ‘c’est la vie’ negativity. Very like their 2014 debut, there’s no logic or sense to the cacophony of gritty punk rock, but it someway manages to carry itself collectively.
A razor-sharp wit ties all the things collectively, with frontman Babcock taking up the position of the world’s most charming antagonist. On songs written after his life “unexpectedly imploded“, he’s continually teetering on the sting, sporting a high-strung façade of apathy that would crack. Whether or not it’s the anthemic, gnawing angst of top-tier minimize Paranoid, or the frazzled, twanging hostility of Get Dumber, he is additionally out for blood: even Starvation For Demise’s floating, ethereal intro is loaded with venom, with the singer proclaiming “Fuck everybody on this planet!”
Whereas the document typically lingers in a realm of enraged absurdity – Olive Backyard combines familial loss of life, horniness and a Sesame Avenue-worthy refrain – there may be ample vulnerability on present too. The title alone comes from Hallways, with the road “I can’t die but ‘trigger who will take care of the canine?” displaying the peculiar particulars that may delay motion on suicidal ideas. Shut Up is equally as sombre, Babcock crooning “I’m working by the fog” with assistance from his “silly little songs.”
As excruciating as life may be, this document accepts that the one means out is thru. Whereas PUP won’t ever fairly see the world with rose-tinted spectacles, their lens of spite and absurdity appears to do the job. It’s bizarrely optimistic nihilism – and it’s bloody marvellous.