Redefining Livestreams with PUP the band
Redefining Livestreams with PUP the band
I’m a story guy, first and foremost. I’ll watch, read, or listen to almost anything, no matter the medium, no matter the genre, if something about the story strikes me as interesting.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about medium either, because the best stories take full advantage of the medium they’re told in. TV shows like Mad Men or Bojack Horseman may be prestige television with tremendous stories, but they still remember that they’re television first and foremost, giving each episode a distinct story and identity. Much of prestige television in the past ten years has forgotten that, essentially producing one long movie that they arbitrarily chop up into 45-52 minute chunks, leaving the episodes themselves often feeling interchangeable, not to mention bloated and poorly paced.
Likewise, my favorite comic creators are Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie. Their stories together — such as Phonogram, Young Avengers, and The Wicked + The Divine — would be enjoyable in any medium, but Gillen and McKelvie never forget that they create comic books, and take advantage of their medium by doing things with their stories that only comics can do, playing with the pacing on the page, with unique layouts, with blank space, with unique lettering. Their love of the medium always shines through, and helps elevate already terrific stories to the next level.
This past weekend I saw, for the first time, a relatively new medium finally starting to reach its full potential, to be embraced for what it is rather than what it isn’t. I’m talking, again, about livestreams.
With musicians unable to tour during this pandemic, many have resorted to playing live music over the internet for their fans in livestreams in order to not only stay connected to their fanbase, but to make money as well. My very first edition of this newsletter, way back in March, was about the infancy of this phenomenon, but obviously it’s grown quite a bit since then. Patreon has been a big part of this movement, and artists like Kevin Devine and Spanish Love Songs have been leading the charge in using platforms like Patreon and Instagram to hold small, intimate livestream performances where they can interact with fans and foster a community.
More recently, however, “bigger” artists have started throwing larger livestream “events.” They’ll sell tickets, perform in an actual studio, and have professional equipment and cameramen recording for top-notch quality. I’ve watched a few of these now, from the likes of New Found Glory, the Menzingers, and the Wonder Years, and they’ve all been fun, entertaining, and well-done. But they’ve all also felt limited. These artists would all, obviously, rather be performing live and in person for their fans, so these livestreams are presented as “the next best thing.” They’re trying to recreate the live experience as closely as possible, but they can’t 100% do that, so there’s a bit of a sense of sadness and defeat to them, no matter how fun they are (and they’re so fun and I’m so glad they’re happening).
Canadian punk act PUP, though, have broken that cycle. Their livestream event last weekend was the first I’ve seen that wasn’t trying to be “the next best thing” and instead embraced the fact that it’s a livestream. I shouldn’t have been surprised. They made their intention to do so known weeks before the livestream itself, with the release of their teaser promo:
PUP’s “fifth member,” Jeremy Schaulin-Rioux, who’s directed the majority of their music videos, brings his same complex touch to both this teaser and the eventual livestream itself. It’s silly and sophomoric, but also clever in its own way, not only filled with cute parodies, but with a message: we know livestreams suck ass. We’re doing it anyway. And we’re gonna make this sucky livestream a blast.
Admittedly, the previous livestream “events” I mentioned freely admitted that livestreams aren’t the same as live music themselves, but they did so with an apologetic, slightly ashamed tone. PUP declares this proudly, making the difference in quality clear by using their teaser trailer to compare their “event” to the likes of Cirque Du Soleil or Shen Yun (only, y’know, not a cult). Hell, the livestream is called “This Livestream Sucks Ass.” They’re wearing the inherent let-down of livestreams as a badge of honor. As PUP has always done throughout their career, they’re pointing out all their flaws before anybody else can, robbing them of their power, allowing both the band and the fans to just move past them and have fun already.
If that was all PUP did different with this livestream it would still be notable, but thankfully, they go much further than that. While many of these previous events have been held in small studios or soundstages, PUP filmed theirs at an actual venue (and Scott Pilgrim’s favorite hang-out), Toronto’s Sneaky Dee’s. There’s an interesting duality here. On one hand, it invites comparisons to actual live music, allowing PUP to yet again say “no, this is just a sucky livestream, and we don’t care, we admit it.” Yet, it also brings a live music feel to this livestream that many others are missing.
The camerawork also elevates things. I’m not going to say that the camerawork in other livestream events was an afterthought, as most had multiple cameramen and put work and thought into switching between different angles, but most were ultimately just providing coverage. PUP’s cameras, though, had some real art behind them. The cameras were constantly moving, occasionally a blur. They’d often go out of focus for a second, quite often members of the band would only be half on-screen, cut off. That sounds poorly done, but it was poorly done in an artful, purposeful way, and that makes all the difference. The camerawork really helped to recreate the feeling of being at an actual PUP performance, bringing to life the chaos and disorientation of seeing them live, being slammed around in a sweaty, loud pit. I’d missed that feeling.
Playing music to an invisible crowd in an empty venue was likely awkward, but PUP embraced that awkwardness for humor, occasionally cutting to the empty venue floor before them as a gag. At a typical PUP show singer Stefan Babcock might jump into the crowd to sing or crowdsurf to the bar to get a drink before surfing back to the stage. Instead, in the livestream at one point he just jumps down to the empty floor instead. As always, they take something that could be awkward or unenjoyable and turn it to their advantage.
During another song, as the rest of the band continues playing on stage, Stefan runs into Sneaky Dee’s bathroom and performs his vocals from one of the stalls. This is where PUP really and truly starts taking advantage of the livestream as a medium, doing something they simply couldn’t do at a live performance: move throughout the venue without the audience losing sight of them.
It’s stunts like this that truly sets this livestream above the rest. During one song drummer Zack Mykula pulls a green screen across the stage, allowing the band to insert absurd footage and effects behind them as they play. During another, when one of the members hits a switch on their pedal, digital flames burst to life beneath the band for the rest of the song. One lull between songs finds self-deprecating “PUP Trivia” appearing on screen. At one point, PUP loops Ratboys singer Julia Steiner into the feed remotely so she can sing along with Stefan on “Reservoir” from the comfort of her own living room. These are things you couldn’t do at a typical live show. These are livestream exclusives.
I suppose that’s what I’m really getting at here. I’ve enjoyed the previous livestream events I’ve watched and greatly appreciate the effort that went into them. But the thought behind them seemed to be “well, we can’t play live music, so we’ll do the next best thing and hope for the best.” PUP’s thinking, on the other hand, seems to be “okay, livestreams suck, but what can we do to make this livestream as interesting as humanly possible.” By doing things only livestreams can do, PUP have taken full advantage of this new medium in a way their peers haven’t. That’s exciting. That’s art. And that’s what PUP has always done, from their music videos (remember the time they did a “Choose Your Own Adventure” video?) to their merch (remember that time they sold a survival pack, including a PUP raft?). It’s what makes them such a vital band.
CHECK OUT
If you’ve never listened to PUP before, the best place to start might actually be their music videos. PUP and Schaulin-Rioux have created an entire library of fun, inventive videos that not only feature great music, which not only tell complex, emotional stories that have formed a continuity and a mythos between them over the years, but which push the boundaries of the very medium of music videos itself. Start with “Reservoir.” The brutal video serves as an overall mission statement for the band: it’s all for the fans. They’ll bleed for us, and in turn, we’ll keep them going no matter what.
If you wanna keep going after that, check out this guide to PUP’s videos I wrote up last year, which helps explore the story behind PUP’s videos, which follow a fictional version of PUP from their origin (coming together as children, with a young Stefan played by Stranger Things’ own Mike, Finn Wolfhard) to their death. It’s phenomenal stuff. I still can’t watch the video for Kids without crying — but again, the power of that video comes from the groundwork the band laid in all the ones that came before. PUP never does anything half-assed, even when “half-assed” is exactly the aesthetic they’re going for.
ABOUT
“Do You Know What I Love the Most?” is a newsletter from Spencer Irwin. Spencer is an enthusiast and writer from Newark, Delaware, who likes punk rock, comic books, working out, breakfast, and most of all, stories. His previous work appeared on Retcon Punch, One Week One Band, and Crisis on Infinite Chords, and he can be found on Twitter at @ThatSpenceGuy. If you like this newsletter, please subscribe and share with your friends!