LIVE FROM THE PIT: PUP, Gen And The Degenerates

The heat inside Foundry feels less like weather and more like the kind of pressure that builds in a room when everyone knows they’re about to be hit square in the chest. PUP (an acronym for Pathetic Use of Potential) has that effect on people. Before they even step out, the crowd is already vibrating: people clinging to the barrier, older fans grinning like they’ve survived this chaos before, everyone braced for the kind of night where catharsis comes loud and fast. 

Opening for the Toronto based band were North‑West trio GEN AND THE DEGENERATES, who’ve built a reputation on sharp humour, emotional honesty, and gloriously chaotic live shows. Fronted by Genevieve Glynn‑Reeves, they wasted no time in getting in the faces of the crowd, with their unapologetic presence. On paper, this show should not work: the drummer is off his ADHD meds, one guitarist is performing with a foot broken in two places, and Genevieve has already joked about the ever‑present risk of a wardrobe malfunction,  plus they forgot to set up merch entirely. It’s the kind of pre‑gig disaster bingo that would flatten a lesser band. Instead, they turn it into fuel.

They rip through Hotter on the Internet, Girls, and Wahoo with a feral looseness that feels intentional, like they’re daring the night to fall apart. Sex Symbol becomes a sweaty, defiant celebration of body autonomy; Girl God Gun lands with raw, non‑binary fury with Genevieve climbing off the stage to get up close and personal, and Anti‑Fun Propaganda closes the set as a snarling, anti‑capitalist rallying cry. Every flaw becomes part of the charm, every near‑miss part of the thrill. It’s messy, loud, and gloriously human. With their new album Earthly Delights out in January, GEN AND THE DEGENERATES are a band not to be missed.

Off the back of breaking the stage at their show the previous night, PUP came out swinging and ready to tear the place apart. Walking onto the stage to DONNA SUMMER’s Hot Stuff (perhaps a gentle nod to Sheffield and The Full Monty?), the band were greeted by a baying crowd, who were ready to sing along, crowd surf and just take it all in. PUP tear into their set with the precision of a band who’ve spent over a decade turning anxiety into anthems, and the crowd responds as a mass of bodies moving as one, every lyric launched back with full-throated conviction. It’s sweaty, frantic, communal, and exactly what a PUP show should feel like. 

Thirteen years as a band, ten years since their debut, and Sheffield greets them like they have been overdue for far too long. They play along with instant singalongs, the kind that erupt before a note is played, and vocalist Stefan Babcock grins like he knows exactly what kind of night this is going to be, alongside bassist Nestor Chumak, guitarist Steve Sladkowski, and drummer Zack Mykula. “This world is a piece of shit”, he tells the room, “but in here we can look out for one another. Go off, but take care of each other. Give help”. It lands with the same weight as the inevitable Yorkshire chant that follows - heavy but triumphant.

They open the run with the raw early chaos of Guilt Trip, My Life Is Over and I Couldn't Be Happier, and Dark Days, three punches from the debut that immediately turn Foundry into a choir. Concrete follows with serrated bite, then Free at Last and Closure bring the room into full communal roar. Paranoid, Morbid Stuff, and Kids arrive like a victory lap for the album that made them festival staples. Totally Fine twists the energy into newer tension before the night drops into Hallways, introduced with Stefan’s deadpan “Welcome to the sad portion of the set!” exclamation.

Scorpion Hill swells into its usual heartbreak. Shut Up starts as a fragile solo moment and detonates when the full band crashes in. Sleep in the Heat and Old Wounds hit with familiar Dream Is Over ferocity. Familiar Patterns lands with an extended drum loop intro, and Reservoir gets pulled out after someone yells for it. Stef points into the crowd, Who said that, before launching straight in.

The surprise is Pine Point, played only a handful of times before this tour, stretched with an extended outro and chorus reprise that turns the room reverent. Penultimate track If This Tour Doesn't Kill You, I Will is dedicated to the bands best friends, and DVP closes the set with the urgency of a band who still refuse to slow down.

PUP do not do encores. They never have. Instead, they finish like they started, loud and honest and shoulder to shoulder with the people who showed up. It feels less like a performance and more like a promise kept. It is the kind of night that reminds you why live music matters. No theatrics, no fakeout walking off the stage only to come back minutes later, just a band meeting a crowd at full intensity and proving they are still one of the most vital acts around. 

Words: Lou Viner-Flood

Photos: Kelsey Tomlinson