Six Years of PUP's "Morbid Stuff"

by editor Michele Catalano

It was six years ago, on April 5, 2019, when I got my groove back. It had been missing a long time, at least musically. I’d been feeling stagnant, unmoving. Everything I listened to was bleeding together; after a while, it all sounded like the droning of a buzzsaw. I was stuck. Music was stuck. 

I had an inkling of what Morbid Stuff would sound like; PUP had released three singles before the album. My reaction to those singles was, Could the entire record be this good? I distinctly remember getting up at around 3 a.m., as usual, and loading the album on Spotify. I was expecting something pretty good. I got something really great.

Around the time that Morbid Stuff came out, I was also feeling stagnant in life. I figured that music and life fed into each other. My marriage had entered a weird stage that I was afraid to reckon with. I pursued the status quo relentlessly, never making the effort to change or better things because that would mean acknowledging some ruthless truths. So I settled in for the long haul.

Musically, I was listening to the same stuff, the same genre endlessly. I was into Midwest emo and fell hard down that rabbit hole. American Football, Modern Baseball, Worst Party Ever. I was into the whole soft, twinkly sound of most of the bands. Couple that with my ever-growing fandom of the National, and I was in a pretty morose music state. And at a musical standstill. I lost my groove somewhere along the way. Where was the punk, the pop punk, the nu-metal and hard rock I was accustomed to? Pushed by the wayside because I was settling again.

Then along came PUP. I admittedly knew little about PUP, just that they were Canadian and liked baseball and hockey. I knew one song (“If This Tour Doesn’t Kill You”), which I liked enough to put on my everyday playlist. So when it was going around Twitter that January that they had a new single, I decided to give it a listen.

“Kids” got me from the start. Thirty seconds in, I knew. This was it. This was what I was looking for to drive me out of the doldrums. 

Just like the kids

I’ve been navigating my way

Through the mind-numbing reality of a godless existence

Which, at this point in my hollow and vapid life

Has erased what little ambition I’ve got left

“Kids” felt both nihilistic and despairing. The music was relentless. I felt it in my bones. All that stagnation came to the surface. All that Midwest emo I’d been drowning in suddenly seemed too sad for me. I needed a fight. I needed anarchy. I needed PUP. 

The second single, “Free at Last,” released in February, was just as good. It was fast and hard, and I sank my teeth into it like someone just coming off a hunger strike. I couldn’t get enough.

Just ‘cause you’re sad again

it doesn’t make you special at all

Yeah, that’s right, PUP! What is it with that sad bullshit, anyway? This band was telling me to put the box of tissues down and stop listening to music that made me cry. These songs were shouting at me. Begging me to listen, to react, to pull myself out of the stagnation.

Two more songs were released in March. At that point, I thought we might get to hear the whole album early. After listening to “Sibling Rivalry” and “Scorpion Hill, I went to PUP’s website and pre-ordered the album. I needed this record in my house. I needed to put it on my stereo, crank it up, and maybe dance around the house. I was back. I was so back. I would never settle again.

April 5 finally rolled around, and I waited up until midnight to hear the rest of this album that was already rejuvenating not only my mental state, but my love of music outside of emo. I was thirsty for riffs again. I was clawing my way out of the stagnation and status quo, thanks to PUP and Morbid Stuff.

Morbid Stuff is a relentless 36 minutes. Starts off hard, goes harder, sticks the landing. It’s nihilism and absolute despair, but it also propels me forward. It made me—and still does—want to drag myself out of a sleepwalking through life, both mentally and musically. It woke me up, set me out on a journey to listen to more music like it, and it set me free. It became the catalyst for me to break out, then stayed with me as guide and companion throughout the pandemic and my eventual divorce. PUP was there for each horrid thing the world threw at me during those times. Morbid Stuff was there. Those scathing, cathartic lyrics, the driving rhythms, all of it. I don’t know where I’d be without this album.

I had the opportunity to see PUP last August, when they played with Jeff Rosenstock during his Brooklyn Warsaw residency. It was everything I hoped for. I sang, I screamed, I sweated an ungodly amount. They were perfect. I can’t wait to see them with Jeff again this coming September. 

Read this interview with PUP’s Steve Skladkowski, which was the first interview on IHTOV!

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