PUP, The Dome, gig review: ‘Anti-heroes with unrelenting ferocity’

The Canadian four-piece played their biggest ever show outside of North America

Big dogs: (from L-R) Zack Mykula, Steve Sladkowski, Stefan Babcock and Nestor Chumak

“Every line, every goddamn syllable that you say makes me wanna gouge out my eyes with a power drill,” frontman Stefan Babcock yells during PUP’s opening song in North London. It’s one of the tongue-rather-aggressively-in-cheek lines from “If This Tour Doesn’t Kill You, I Will”, a confession of intra-band tensions during gruelling tours – something which the Canadian four-piece is certainly experienced in.

This gig, PUP’s biggest ever outside of North America, sees them barely into double figures of a 100-date tour – no longer than what they’re used to, but arduous nonetheless. It’s in support of the band’s Polaris Prize-nominated second album, The Dream Is Over, a 30-minute whirlwind of smart, hook-laden pop punk. The second song off that album, “DVP”, is a particular standout, and played second here. It’s a raucously engaging song, with Babcock recounting accusations of binge drinking and immaturity – charges which he doesn’t deny – set against peculiarly care-free, bubble-gum pop punk backing vocals in the chorus.

It’s hard not to see Babcock as something of an anti-hero. A lot of the lyrics he roars tonight are sung in jest, but characterised by apathy and self-loathing. On “Familiar Patterns”, he recalls how people “used to say, ‘Don’t quit your day job’”, before adding: “Well guess what, I never had one”. And on the aforementioned “DVP”, things take a decidedly darker turn: “I don’t give a shit, I just don’t wanna die and I don’t want to live, I said.” But the way in which the lyrics are delivered, often via Japandroids-esque group vocals, with genuine emotion, means that you can’t help but take them as some sort of perversely inspirational call to arms. At one point, during “Sleep In The Heat”, a song about the death of a pet chameleon, Babcock even clambers atop one of the speakers to lead the sing-along.

The band are barely on stage for an hour, but it’s with an unrelenting ferocity which they cover all the high points from the most recent album, and their debut self-titled release. We’re treated to a rare encore, too – “We don’t usually do encores because they’re lame,” guitarist Steve Sladkowski explains – but you feel there might have been a riot if the crowd weren’t given one more song.