Coheed and Cambria

Taking inspiration from two main characters Claudio Sanchez’s fictional works, prog-rock band Coheed and Cambria from New York, US who since formation in 1995 have steadily climbed to the top of the ranks while achieving global success with their Children of the Fence firmly by their side.

Circa Survive

Sunny Day Real Estate

A band from Seattle, WA.

www.sunnyday.realestate

Turnover

Likened to a soft summer rain, she's green is a Minneapolis-based dream-inducer composed of vocalist Zofia Smith, guitarists Liam Armstrong and Raines Lucas, bassist Teddy Nordvold, and drummer Kevin Seebeck. The band has played many shows throughout the Midwest and East Coast, sharing bills with acts such as Hotline
TNT, Glixen, Friko, and more. The Star Tribune recommends bringing “earplugs and maybe a tissue for their set.” They initially received recognition through their first two released singles, "river" and "smile again", both recorded and mixed at home. A raw emotional intensity shines through their honest and explorative songwriting process. After the release of their debut EP Wisteria, they were named one of First Avenue’s Best New Bands of 2023. In April of 2024, they got the most votes from industry professionals for MPR station The Current’s first annual Scouting Report Poll of the top rising artists in Minnesota.

Pup

It seems significant that there were bats in the mansion’s attic, although how significant it seems will have something to do with how you feel and what you know about PUP. None of it is a metaphor, and also all of it is.

The mansion, for its part, is very real—it is a sprawling residence-slash-studio in Connecticut’s most dispiriting mid-sized city where the producer Peter Katis has helped acts like The National and Interpol and Frightened Rabbit and Kurt Vile make records. There are gold records on the walls and warrens of strange new rooms that the band members discovered seemingly daily; the roof leaks when it rains, and the bats reclaim the attic after dark. PUP singer Stefan Babcock recorded all his vocals in the living room, at night. “The other guys were just trying to live their lives,” he said, “and Nestor and I would be down there screaming into microphones while they were watching TV in the next room.” Babcock remembered Katis telling him that the bats “go away” during the daytime hours. “I was like, ‘no, they’re sleeping,’” Babcock said. “They don’t go anywhere, there’s nowhere for them to go.’”

The band spent five weeks there in the summer of 2021, recording and mixing the typically furious and anthemic songs that would become their fourth album, THE UNRAVELING OF PUPTHEBAND. The band—Babcock, bassist Nestor Chumak, drummer Zack Mykula, and guitarist Steve Sladkowski—more or less never left. “There were some days that were really great, like magical, everything worked and then we’d go to the kitchen and make a great meal,” Sladkowski said, “and then there were days when you’re like ‘I can’t remember the last time I’ve been outside.’” Circumstances—a global pandemic, still happening, not much fun to talk about and won’t be addressed further here—made cultivating a healthy, communal vibe more difficult, but the band powered through by having friends like Sarah from Illuminati Hotties, Kathryn from NOBRO, Mel from Casper Skulls, and Erik from Remo Drive pitch in. When the band got comfortable in its strange new home, the (figurative) walls came down. “As the weeks passed, we seemed less and less rational, objective, and sane,” Babcock says. “You can hear the band start to fall off the cliff, and because of that, I think this record is our truest and most genuine to date. There is nothing more PUP than a slow and inevitable descent into self-destruction.”

Every PUP record arrives with an implied “contents under pressure” warning; the tension between the band’s instinct for the melodic and its gift for chaos propels the songs forward while making them also seem close to flying apart in a horrifying spray of tears and gore. To listen to PUP enough is to spend parts of every day mentally echoing some hilariously self-lacerating, utterly undeniable choruses; you will find yourself thinking “this is the mosh part” at moments when you would otherwise be tearing yourself apart. It is one thing to feel, as Babcock sings on THE UNRAVELING’s “Totally Fine,” “like I’m slowly dying/and if I’m being real I don’t even mind,” but it is another, very different thing to find yourself shouting along with those words. There’s a tension here, too. “There’s only so many times you can write a song about how much you hate yourself before you write a song about how fucking good you are at hating yourself,” Babcock says. “It’s funny that we’ve provided for ourselves by being fuck-ups and writing songs about being fuck-ups. We’ve been fuck-ups forever, and now we’ve got a responsibility, to others and to ourselves, to fuck up in a productive manner.”

That’s not any easier than it sounds, but also the volatility is the thing; all that tension is always just barely held in place by the band’s craft. It couldn’t be anything but uneasy, but THE UNRAVELING OF PUPTHEBAND is the sound of a band that is not just comfortable with but in command of that chaos.

We are back in the mansion, now, albeit the metaphorical one. PUP is objectively a very successful band. They won a Juno Award for Alternative Album of the Year for 2019’s Morbid Stuff and have been nominated for the Polaris Prize and many nice things have been said about them in the places that people say nice things about bands; because they are PUP, "nice things" in this case means Pitchfork saying that they “turn self-loathing and self-deprecation into a sort of superpower.” Fans happily sing the coruscating words of their songs aloud in sold-out venues all around the world; they did a version of arguably the harshest song on 2019’s Morbid Stuff for a 2020 CBC Kids Christmas special in which they replaced the lyric “embrace the calamity” with “embrace the festivities”; they have performed on Late Night with Seth Meyers, and played at major festivals like Lollapalooza, Boston Calling, Shaky Knees, and Riot Fest. A mansion is a place where such a band might go to record an ambitious fourth album. That success doesn’t haunt THE UNRAVELING, although it does make it funnier; the “Four Chords” piano ballad threaded through the album tells the tale of a contentious quarterly meeting of PUP’s “board of directors” going selfishly awry. There is a long history of Mansion Albums; sometimes it works out well and sometimes it works out less well and more often than would seem plausible a Jaguar convertible winds up at the bottom of a swimming pool.

PUP is not really that kind of band, though, and THE UNRAVELING OF PUPTHEBAND is not that kind of record. It is still very much a PUP album, but relocating from the literal basement where they wrote Morbid Stuff to the janky manse in which they put together its follow-up afforded the band space to grow, and to make not just the next PUP record but the most PUP record. “This is a band that, until this record, out of some weird fucked up sense of misguided pride or idiocy, felt that we should never use any instruments aside from drums, bass, and guitars,” Babcock says. “We quickly came to realize that the instrumentation isn’t what makes PUP songs PUP. It’s the songs themselves, finding this balance between heavy and melodic, dark and fun, pushing the limits of our writing chops and musicianship in a way that makes us laugh and also want to smash shit. So this record starts with the stupidest piano ballad of all time. And there are synths. And there are horns. And there are some 808s and trap hi-hats. And some other weird shit that we haven’t done before.”

There is no faking that, which of course makes it all much harder to do. In the best PUP songs, the whole process is not just visible but thrilling—the anguish and doubt that drives the songs is nurtured, over a few loud minutes, into something first legible and then somehow empowering. There are a lot of these songs on THE UNRAVELING. The alternately plaintive and anthemic “Matilda” is a classic galloping PUP shout-along recrimination-fest that sounds bigger than previous entries in this robust subgenre without losing any of the signature acid. “Waiting” is pure paint-stripping heat, topped by some legitimately towering choruses. “Robot Writes A Love Song” dissolves into a wash of nervous synthesizer before becoming what is surely the most emotional song ever written from the perspective of a computer being overwhelmed unto death by actual human emotions. “I wanted to write about the horrible state of the world, but through a very specific and personal lens,” Babcock says. “It’s a lot of me trying to articulate my own coping with existential dread, hopelessness, and what I’ve called ‘Grim Reaping’—which is to me, the idea that we are all reaping what we sow, and right now we’re sowing some pretty fucked up shit.”

THE UNRAVELING is not a departure from what got PUP here, really; for all the new breadth, this is still very much the fourth album by the band that has spun songs about The Bad Decisions Lifestyle into scrappy art. The hooks are as bright and barbed as always; the poison threaded through every song is no less potent. But a fourth album should be different from the first, or even the third, and THE UNRAVELING is. “I don’t know that we set out to do new stuff,” Mykula says, of a record on which the band does a great deal of new stuff. “It’s just a band trying to sound as much like themselves as possible. Every record you make, you get closer to that.”

THE UNRAVELING OF PUPTHEBAND is that next step—not towards perfection, or even towards some more perfect version of writing songs about fucking up, but just in the direction of its choice. It’s a product of this endless awful broader moment, but also very much a step forward into that uncertainty. “The whole album process really brought us closer together, even as things unraveled,” Babcock says. “It’s hands down my favorite PUP record, and I don’t think it could’ve been made under any other circumstances.” It’s the sound of a band learning how to share the mansion with the bats.

Thursday

Mayday, ground control to no one

La Dispute

La Dispute (formed in 2004) is an American progressive post-hardcore rock band hailing from Grand Rapids, Michigan, in the U.S.

Destroy Boys

The title of Destroy Boys’ new album, Funeral Soundtrack #4, might seem like a bit of playful irony but the California band is being quite literal. “Looking back, our first three albums marked the deaths of things,” says guitarist Violet Mayugba. “They were soundtracks to our funerals, whether they were for our ag es, our mental states. We’ve gone through a lot of changes as a band

and as people.”

Destroy Boys formed in 2015, when founding members Mayugba and Alexia Roditis were just 15

years old, and each release has marked a period of growth and change. “The first one was our

high school album,” Mayugba explains. “On the second record, we went to college and were

saying goodbye to our childhood. On the third one, we’d just gone through COVID and, speaking

for myself, I lost my entire sense of self and gained a new one.”

Now, at 24, Mayugba and Roditis are standing firmly on solid ground with their fourth album,

more resolute and confident than ever in their place as musicians. “With Funeral Soundtrack #4, I’m done being walked all over. I’m done being taken advantage of by people in the music industry and by people I date. I’m done doing what other people tell me to do,” Roditis says.

Funeral Soundtrack #4 was recorded over 2023 with Carlos de la Garza (Paramore, The Linda

Lindas, Best Coast) and pushes Destroy Boys into new sonic territories. It’s still grounded in the band’s punk rock roots but leans into the members’ more eclectic influences, like salsa and bossanova. de la Garza also helped highlight their gothier inspirations, like the Smiths, Cocteau Twins, and Siouxsie and the Banshees. Roditis’s voice, which was often buried in the chaos of their previous work, shines through more ever, and flexes an impressively wider range. “Something we’ve always prided ourselves on is making very clear ascensions and leaps with every record,” Mayugba says. “We’re in pursuit of that greatest, biggest sound.”

Themes of adulthood, maturity, and love run through

Funeral Soundtrack #4. Many of the album’s songs had been in the works for years, and fill in the gaps of Destroy Boys’ catalog. “It really feels like this album is a culmination of the last four years of writing music,” Roditis says. “Boyfeel,” a song Roditis started writing at 17, sees them exploring their evolving relationship with gender nonconformity, while “Shadow (I’m Breaking Down),” the band’s first song to chart on Alternative Radio, delves into the Jungian idea of the shadow self. “I’ve seen a lot of people on TikTok talking about confronting your shadow, but when you see stuff like that on the internet, it doesn’t go into the depths of that concept. I really wanted to put together my thoughts on the shadow side and also talk about mental health in a way that I haven’t heard in a song before,” they say. Standout single “Plucked” decisively proves Destroy Boys can craft a perfect rock hook, and Roditis belts out a Spanish love song on “Amore Divino.” Hardcore ripper “Beg for the Torture” marks the first song on which Mayugba and Roditis pull dual vocal duties, trading scathing verses back and forth, an approach which takes influence from Sleater Kinney. On “You Hear Yes,” the band teams up with fellow powerhouses, Scowl’s Kat Moss and Mannequin Pussy’s Marisa Dabice, to share experiences of male harassment. “It’s funny because we always used to get labeled as a feminist punk band, but we don’t actually sing about that very often,” Roditis says. “So on this record we wanted to make a very blatant fuck the patriarchy song.”

Destroy Boys have gained a ton of ground in the music scene over the last few years, touring with giants acts like Pierce the Veil, blink-182, and Alkaline Trio, and playing reputable festivals around the world, like Coachella, Riot Fest, and Pukkelpop. And they’ve done it all while vehemently kicking against the aspirational guilt that has historically been ingrained in the fabric of punk rock. “There’s so much shame in punk about wanting to succeed and wanting to

play music for the rest of your life,” Mayugba says. “And I feel like women in rock are especially shamed for that, where our pursuit of greatness is looked down upon even more so. And we reject that so outwardly. We’ve always wanted to be the biggest band ever. We don’t want to be a club band. We want that stadium sound.”

Funeral Soundtrack #4 captures Destroy Boys at their most evolved self, miles ahead of the scrappy, teenage sound that a new generation of rock fans fell in love with on their 2016 debut Sorry, Mom, but the record never loses the band's identity in the process.

“Funeral Soundtrack #4 is our best record yet, no question, but it’s still authentic,” Mayugba says. “It’s more presentable, it’s hookier, it’s more palatable, but it's also real Destroy Boys.”