It’s always exciting to discover a band that lets you indulge your base musical desires. Pup are one of those bands, and their self-titled debut album is one to be sweated along to at a packed show, one to be screamed along to until your breath gives out.
The Canadian quartet play the sort of endearingly no frills pop-punk that gave the genre a good name before it was cruelly snatched away by breakdown-loving, basketball vest-wearing bros.
Their real gift is for melodies that are fresh and exciting yet instantly familiar and reassuring. Reservoir is a flat-out anthem, the sort of song most bands don’t ever manage to write, while Mabu exemplifies their neat ability to make four-part harmonies sound effortless amid rapid tempo changes and frantic guitars.
Predictably, given their propensity for songs that are deceptively complicated and infuriatingly catchy, they have been looked to as another band to fill the Weezer-shaped hole in many people’s hearts. While Pup clearly have Rivers Cuomo’s mid-’90s moves down, they are less self-aware and more outwardly carefree.
Their short Facebook bio reads: “You don't need to know anything else. They're 4 dudes who play punk rock. That's all. Listen and love it / hate it / whatever.” And, that pretty much nails it. It might even be one of the few true statements knocking around on there.
Pup have been earmarked for big things, and they’ve already delivered. This record is seriously good fun. Give in to it. Scream along. Or whatever.
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