{"id":27642,"date":"2019-04-11T11:30:58","date_gmt":"2019-04-11T15:30:58","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.audiofemme.com\/?p=27642"},"modified":"2019-04-09T17:17:27","modified_gmt":"2019-04-09T21:17:27","slug":"only-noise-how-pup-and-punk-rock-changed-my-relationship-with-physical-intimacy","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.audiofemme.com\/only-noise-how-pup-and-punk-rock-changed-my-relationship-with-physical-intimacy\/","title":{"rendered":"ONLY NOISE: How PUP – and Punk Rock – Changed My Relationship with Physical Intimacy"},"content":{"rendered":"
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PUP photo by Vanessa Heins.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

ONLY NOISE explores music fandom with poignant personal essays that examine the ways we\u2019re shaped by our chosen soundtrack. This week, Sophia Vaccaro finds empowerment and personal autonomy in the mosh pit, with PUP providing the punk rock release. The mosh pit at a PUP show helped Sophia Vaccaro see the punk tradition as an exchange of energy rather than a violation of space.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cThe mosh pit never lies,\u201d Norah reminds herself in Nick and Norah\u2019s Infinite Playlist<\/em>. It took me a room full of friendly punk kids and almost ten years to understand what she meant.<\/p>\n

I was not a wild teen. I was not even a wild college kid. Nick and Norah\u2019s world of all-nighters, secret shows, and closet makeouts was as astronomically foreign to me as it was eminently desirable. I wanted to traipse through the post-midnight music crowd mooning over someone while not realizing how absolutely fucking cool I was being, too! But why was it so fucking hard<\/em>?<\/p>\n

It was the pit; moshing was asking too much of me. I spent a long time \u2014 too long \u2014 hyper-aware of the bodies of men in my space. I can\u2019t stand a casual touch from a man I do not know. It feels like a physical weight, like leeches peppering soft marks on my skin to remind me: you did not want this hug. You did not want this hand on your shoulder. You didn\u2019t want. You didn\u2019t want. <\/em>Everything was always about what I didn\u2019t want, and it was exhausting.<\/p>\n

So how could someone, uncomfortable even with the physical feeling that comes from an uninvited look, willingly throw herself into a horde of sweaty, aggressive punksters? Enter PUP the band \u2014 and my friend\u2019s pink backpack.<\/p>\n

I love PUP. Formed in Toronto in 2010, PUP<\/a> consists of bassist Nestor Chumak, vocalist Stefan Babcock, drummer Zack Mykula, and guitarist Steve Sladkowski. Since their first self-titled LP, they have been steadily evolving as musicians and lyricists. But it\u2019s not only the music that\u2019s fucking good; they also seem to be four actual friends who are doing their best to deal with mental health, growing up, and the complexities of the occasionally vagrant musician life. They are more than aware of the community that has grown around them; in anticipation of their third full-length album, Morbid Stuff<\/em>, which was released last Friday, they asked fans to cover the second single, \u201cFree at Last,\u201d with only the chords and lyrics available. The result was a funny, light-hearted music video compiling these clips that was not only surprising in its musical diversity, but also surprisingly tender and utterly appreciative \u2014 of both fans and band alike.<\/p>\n