Cohabitation is a tricky business, and that has never been better emphasized than through the self-deprecating, absorbing lens of PUP. The Toronto four-piece's fifth LP, Who Will Look After The Dogs?, kicks in the door with Stefan Babcock's hard-hitting lyrics revealing fuzzy truths on the nature of heartbreak and self-criticism, with the itch further scratched through heavy reverb and cascades of guitar flares courtesy of Steve Sladkowski's intensely unpredictable phrasing. Roughed up by a decade of relentless international tours, Who Will Look After The Dogs? is an ambitious, crunchy-as-hell entry in the band's musical passport.
The album goes from zero to 100 fast, opening with the explosive and deliciously brittle "No Hope," a song that sets the stage for the themes of the record. "I don't need her / It's killing me," Babcock shouts in an anthemic chorus designed for stadium singalongs. The track cuts out with a steadily increasing wall of sound, a production note that is repeated throughout the record and underscores John Congleton's infamous indie cred. At times, these production choices drift into the late-'00s recession pop brand popularized by the likes of Passion Pit and MGMT, with the distorted kaleidoscope of electronic instruments creating an accessible backdrop for PUP's signature self-effacing exasperation.
While Babcock takes the Italian dinner date formula out by shout-singing the familiar heteronormative scenario against noisy guitars in "Olive Garden," the track's singsong nature occasionally has a Girlpool feel, like '50s doo-wop put through a paper shredder. Running just under two minutes, it's as short, sweet and filling as the never-ending breadsticks offered up in its namesake. "Concrete" tackles similar themes of love gone sour, but the song is a little more memorable. In fact, its melodic guitar riff is so good that Babcock's vocals take a backseat in the mix, wafting through like more of a voice memo memory than a highly produced studio vocal take.
Featuring Long Island guitarist Jeff Rosenstock, "Get Dumber" is traditional fuck-you PUP with an alt-rock melody in the vein of Jimmy Eat World. Rosenstock's guitar tone is as classic as American traditional tattoos — but the presentation is once again distorted distorted, with the breakdown featuring a Bowie-recalling space-age guitar solo that goes intergalactic just before the song cuts out. Like many of the tracks on Who Will Look After the Dogs?, as quickly as it comes, it's gone again; they exist more like half-thoughts or trailing ellipses than any fully fleshed-out narrative.
Comparatively, "Hunger for Death," feels more complete, but maybe that's because of the anthemic chorus. "Fuck everyone in this venue / Especially me, especially me," Babcock sings, and you can practically hear a live crowd hurling the "fuck you" repetitions right back to the band. Otherwise, the record's strongest points come in its second half, like "Hallways" — which stands out as not only a clear winner, but a contender for one of PUP's best songs ever. It also provides the album's title fodder, a crystalline, millennial malaise-informed emotion perfectly captured at the crux: "But I can't die yet, 'cause who will look after the dog?"
PUP generally avoid political themes in their music, but don't shy away from using their platform to make a statement where it really counts. Opening for Sum 41's final Tour of the Setting Sum, the band used their time playing arenas to proudly march across stage with a trans flag — a welcome gesture of allyship, and a brave one at that, given the recent surge in anti-trans and 2SLGBTQIA+ legislation across Canada and the US. Their live show adds fuel to the fire of those decades-old punk traditions, agitated by the morbid reality of moving through life as a burnout in an increasingly volatile social and economic climate.
The lyrical content of Who Will Look After the Dogs? covers the slipperiness of romantic relationships, pet ownership, rental contracts, insomnia, job security, mental health highs and lows, and just about everything in between. PUP's analysis of these mundane realities through the perspective of the disenfranchised and distraught millennial is both a cry for assistance and recognition; an acknowledgement that the world really truly does suck, but that most of us are just doing our best at trying to wade through it.
Babcock strikes the perfect blend of distress and condemnation in his vocal delivery, expressing righteous indignation at these lived realities: "The best revenge is living well / I've been living like shit, it's been fucking up my sleep," he sings on "Best Revenge." While many punk bands have covered what it's like to navigate life as an underclass hero, hating the world just as much as others hate them, PUP set themselves apart by mustering up the strength to be fearlessly vulnerable. In sharing their experiences, listeners discover how much of their own are actually universal, finding a mirror in Babcock despite the fact that they lurk in different apartment complexes.
Through everything we must contend with in this hellscape, PUP maintain a forward-facing sense of optimism — just one that's realistic in its limitations. The best revenge? Well, living.