It鈥檚 not often you hear someone refer to their own decisions as 鈥渟tupid,鈥 but PUP singer and rhythm guitarist Stefan Babcock means that in the most sincere way possible.
鈥淲hen I say that, I don鈥檛 see that coming from a place of regret,鈥 he said casually via video call from his home in 海角社区官网about his band鈥檚 new album, released Friday. 鈥淚 love this record and I鈥檓 so glad we made those decisions.鈥
And some of those 鈥渙bjectively dumb鈥 decisions by him and his bandmates resulted in a 12-track punk epic titled 鈥淭he Unraveling of PUPTheBand,鈥 showcasing a wider range from the Juno Award winners that fans likely haven鈥檛 heard before.
A piano ballad to start? Electric beats? Are those horns at one point? Is this the punk band PUP?
鈥淭here are at least three (dumb decisions) per song,鈥 chimed in drummer Zack Mykula.
For the 海角社区官网punk rock veterans, who have been playing together since 2010, writing their fourth full-length album was truly an emotional and mental 鈥渦nravelling,鈥 especially considering what鈥檚 been going on in this world the past two years.
Add in a five-week, 9-to-5 marathon recording studio session in an old mansion secluded from the rest of society in the sleepy New York City suburb of Bridgeport, Conn., and you can鈥檛 really blame them for getting a little zany.
Oh, and the band 鈥 rounded out by lead guitarist Steve Sladkowski and bassist Nestor Chumak 鈥 also had to deal with bats at night. Yeah, bats.
鈥 鈥業f you see the bats, it probably just means you stayed up too late,鈥 鈥 Mykula recalled producer Peter Katis telling them when they first encountered a winged nightmare, adding the home had somewhat of a 鈥渟ubliminal effect鈥 on them during recording. 鈥淪o it was just naturally haunted.鈥
That manic period spawned an album that鈥檚 still mostly quintessentially PUP, with wild guitar hooks, head-banging chord progressions and catchy choruses that make you wanna scream. But there鈥檚 a level of maturity, of sadness, of discontent that sticks out more than in their previous efforts.
Those themes were evident in two of the band鈥檚 singles for the album: in which the demo and lyrics of the song were more or less written in 15 minutes, according to Babcock, and a tribute to one of Babcock鈥檚 favourite guitars.
In 鈥淢补迟颈濒诲补,鈥 as he has done in the past with songs about and his first car , Babcock immortalizes an object that has meant a lot to him. In this case it was a guitar that was given to him by a friend when his previous one broke during a rough stretch of a tour years ago.
鈥淚 played it every day on tour for, I don鈥檛 know, five years or something. And then I stopped playing it for a while because my bandmates told me that it sounded like s—t,鈥 Babcock explained. 鈥淏ut it just always kind of had this pull on me.
鈥淎nd when I noticed I hadn鈥檛 played it for like a year, I started feeling really sad and guilty.鈥
So it only made sense it had to make one final appearance on the new album and Matilda the guitar was indeed used during the recording of 鈥淢atilda.鈥 Using an imperfect guitar was the perfect decision.
And along with other tracks on which the band plays new instruments or uses different techniques, there鈥檚 inevitably an extra layer of complexity when you try to recreate those tracks live, especially for a band that embodies elements of garage and noise punk.
But PUP鈥檚 shows are always raw and imperfect affairs. They make mistakes and they roll with it 鈥 it makes it more relatable and accessible. It doesn鈥檛 matter anyway when most of the crowd is crammed like sweaty sardines, moshing and rocking away to their hits.
鈥淭he content of the songs themselves, like lyrically, are so imperfect,鈥 Babcock said. 鈥淪o if we played (the music) perfectly, I think there would be like a disconnect between what the song was about and the actual performance.
鈥淏ut it鈥檚 just not our place to make that (perfect) music because we are extremely imperfect individuals.鈥
And for the first time in two years they鈥檙e taking that imperfection on a North American tour that kicked off last week in 海角社区官网and includes a stop at the legendary Coachella in April. But returning to a post-pandemic life is a struggle for those in the live music business just as much as anyone else. Perhaps even more so.
After waves of lockdowns, and more seclusion and lost money and lost hope, living as a musician in 海角社区官网鈥 arguably one of the most locked down places in North America 鈥 has never been harder. And that can lead to some pretty irreparable damage to a city鈥檚 punk and rock scene.
鈥淚t doesn鈥檛 need to be said how many great bands have come from here,鈥 Mykula said. 鈥淏ut I think also just Toronto, by its nature, has an unflagging hostility toward musicians and culture in general.
鈥淲e are very much a safety first band and I have no issue with lockdowns in principle. I have no issue with vaccine mandates in principle,鈥 he continued, not mincing words about how musicians have been treated the past two years, along with a number of closures affecting venues and rehearsal spaces. 鈥淏ut we have basically had our opportunities 鈥 and especially opportunities for bands that are just coming up now 鈥 steadily taken away. And I think because of that, 海角社区官网will lose a pretty significant part of what makes it special.
鈥淪o it鈥檚 hard not to feel like we鈥檙e being thrown away.鈥
But that experience of 鈥渦nravelling鈥 the band tapped into during recording is lingering. For Mykula and Chumak, who both have Ukrainian roots, the ongoing crisis in Europe has been top of mind.
And it鈥檚 hard to reconcile that when you鈥檙e meant to go back to work, back to 鈥渓iving,鈥 as governments across the globe are so eager to promote during these times of extreme uncertainty. But PUP has never been shy to say what they think, whether that鈥檚 about music, about politics, about inequality, or even about themselves and each other.
鈥淚t鈥檚 really terrifying,鈥 Mykula continued. 鈥淓very day I see the news and my heart breaks 鈥 So it鈥檚 going to be hard; I guess I鈥檒l just have to figure out a way to live with it.鈥
And PUP is going to do that in the way they know best: being themselves and playing the music their fans love. And to them, that鈥檚 just perfect.
Justin Smirlies is a Star digital producer based in Toronto. Reach him via email: jsmirlies@thestar.ca
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