Volume 1:  PUP: Terminally Sweaty Stuff (Illuminati Hotties, AJJ, and PUP at Terminal 5 9/12)

It’s early September in NY, which means the daily temperature fluctuates sweltering heat and bitter cold. I’ve just left work and stepped out into the light freezing rain. It’s cold out, I don’t have a jacket, and the misty rain isn’t helping. I’m fueled entirely by caffeine at this point in the day, and I’m so nervous about not being able to check my bag that I’m rushing to make it to Terminal 5 in time for doors. 

Jittering my way off the 1 train, I head west. I’m now surrounded by fellow 20-somethings wearing MOBO and Wonder Years’ mech as we all collectively lurch toward the venue. I consider stopping for a sandwich, but decide against it.I mean beer has calories, right? I get to Terminal 5 way, way too fucking early. Illuminati Hotties won’t hit the stage for at least an hour  to an hour and a half. I wander to the nearest bar and load up on chips and IPA. 

LA-based Illuminati Hotties start to stir the crowd up during their opening set. AJJ did their best to continue whipping the crowd into shape, and yet, as much as I enjoyed both openers, one thing was clear. This crowd came for PUP. I think we all woke up waiting for the opening riff off Morbid Stuff. And all of this energy is destined to build right through the ever-present PUP live-duo back-to-back of If This Tour Doesn’t Kill You I Will and DVP.

A swirling, screaming mass of joy shouted along to every word of the 19-song setlist including a Weakerthans cover, and a feature with Jeff Rosenstock. PUP concerts are strangely unifying, you seem to just merge with the crowd for a fleetingly short period of communal bliss. Could be why the openers stuck around for some time in the pit, with a few folks helping me getting one of Illuminati Hotties’ members up and crowd surfing. Stefan, Zack, Nestor, and Steve seem to have a preternatural ability to build an immediate connection with fans during these shows. They somehow feel, all at once, like the biggest fucking deal in the world and a local band in playing in a room that feels crowded for an audience of 10.

I detach from the PUP concert-commune as it dissolves through the doors and halls of Terminal 5. Grab my bag from coat check and feel my cramping legs tense through my sweat soaked jeans as I head back into the early-fall drizzle. I’m booze-drenched and soaked through with both my own and the collective crowd sweat. I’m cramping and bruised from the jostling of the crowd, starving, but I’ve only got one thought on my mind: When are they coming back?.