PUP - Do It 2025
If chaos had a soundtrack, PUP would be the house band. On a humid Friday night in Sydney, The Metro Theatre turned into a pressure cooker of sweat, distortion, and pure joy. By the time the headliners were anywhere near the stage, the air was already electric — part punk-show giddiness, part shared understanding that tonight was going to leave bruises, steal voices, and etch itself into memory.
The Metro was already heaving well before PUP’s set. Tonight’s openers, Teenage Joans, had pulled a serious crowd of their own. Sydney punters know you show up early when Adelaide’s punk-pop firebrands are on the bill. Just two members — drummer & vocalist Tahlia Borg and guitarist & vocalist Cahli Blakers turned a bare stage into something urgent and unmissable. From the opening one-two punch of Sweet Things Rot and Ruby Doomsday, they played with a conviction that never once felt like “just the support.” By Superglue — a grungy, heart-on-sleeve anthem that hit with pinpoint emotional force — the room was fully locked in. Murky blues, dusky purples, and sharp pink strobes matched their shifts between pounding urgency and stripped-back moments like Candy Apple, giving the set a moody, unvarnished charm.
The closing stretch was pure catharsis. Call-and-response chants during Terrible sent the first moshers flying, Blakers ricocheting across the stage. Teenage Joans left the crowd sweaty, loud, and primed for the chaos PUP — short for Pathetic Use of Potential, though their fans would fight you on that — were about to unleash.
The heat didn’t build — it detonated the moment PUP walked out, ripping into No Hope and My Life. Bouncing, head-banging, and dragging the room into their orbit from the first riff, they didn’t let go.
Between songs, frontman Stefan Babcock paused to talk about the world’s general mess, urging everyone to look out for each other — punctuated perfectly by the first crowd surfer, a beaming young woman ferried into the photo pit and lowered gently by security. From Robot through Concrete, it was elbows, sweat, and adrenaline. Sleep became a mass sing-along. After the final note, Babcock grinned: “Fifth time in Sydney — we love it. One thing about being an eternal pessimist is that at the end of a tour you wonder if that’s it… and then we come back and get blown away” . . . before going on to add: “We’re happy — but we’re also pissed off.” Cue Paranoid.
The inevitable “Shoey!” chant rose. “Not happening,” Babcock shot back. “Which is worse — your own shoe and the walk home, or someone else’s and their… foot juice? Trick question: either way, you’re all freaks.”
Totally Fine and Morbid Stuff kept the throttle open; Kids somehow kicked it higher. During Scorpion Hill, Babcock announced: "I don't know whether you guys can see this - but two mosh pits have opened up. Can I suggest that two become one....." — and the crowd obliged in bedlam. Then, the most Australian moment of the night: someone chundered mid-mosh, hurled one of their shoes onstage - demanding a shoey, and was left in a lone sock, skating in their own misadventure. Lost property began piling up on stage — shoes (several), a purse, a phone. All were returned, the phone only after Babcock snapped a crowd-lit selfie with it.
What sets PUP apart is how raw anger collides with sweet, shoutable harmonies and razor-sharp musicianship — the harmonic bite of DVP, the shifting time feels of Hunger, all under strobe bursts slicing through haze. Crowd surfers came almost every song; security ferrying bodies to the pit felt choreographed — part of the show’s charm.
After Familiar Patterns, Babcock took a moment to speak to the crowd again - "Thank you guys for being here - this has been fucked up! - it's been awesome.... before we get out of here I'd appreciate if you guys could make a fuck load of noise for Teenage Jones - they're fucking sick . . . also give it up for all the bar tenders, security and all the staff here - for looking after us..... we have exactly two songs left - we don't do encores.... how about some old shit?" Rez roared to life, before Meltdown detonated the finale with extra cheers for the behind-the-head guitar move. Surfers kept streaming forward until, not to be outdone - Babcock ditched his guitar and launched headlong into a triumphant Aussie crowd-surf of his own!
A truly epic night.
Outside on George Street, drenched punters grinned and buzzed. One voice summed it up: “That’s the kind of gig you’ll tell your kids about — raw, ridiculous, and real.” Another, hoarse and beaming: “I came for chaos and left with a choir. My voice ’ll be gone for a week — worth it.”
Thank you to PUP, Teenage Joans, Destroy All Lines, Morse Code PR and The Metro Theatre for having us along
Review and Photos by Andy Kershaw for Music Kingdom Australia
