Fucked Up @ Triple Rock Social Club

Fucked Up, a Toronto based punk band, played a jarring set Wednesday night to an energized crowd at the Triple Rock Social Club. The band, which started out as a pretty straight forward (albeit very good) hardcore band, also showed off the more intricate and dense musical detours they have taken, most specially on their great sophomore album The Chemistry of Common Life.

Having attended a concert every night for the past week, it was refreshing to have ended my marathon with a band as compelling and energetic as Fucked Up. Over the last week I have seen buzz bands, foreign folkies and musical legends. None of which set me up for the auditory and visual assault that was Fucked Up. The band, which sported a three guitar, bass and drums set up, sounded absolutely massive; not that it mattered though, as all eyes were fixed on their larger than life front man Pink Eyes. The singer, whose personality and stage presence were as large as his frame, kept the audience enraptured throughout the bands 60 minute set. While the band’s abrasive and throttling sound encouraged a pit to form in front of the stage, Pink Eyes continued barking out his lyrics and putting on a show of his own for the members of the crowd who weren’t busy slamming into each other (or as he put it, the people there because they “got an 8.8 on Pitchfork).

Before long Pink Eyes, who started the night in shorts, T-shirt and a leather hat, was soon down to just his sweaty boxers on the stage. He was continuously switching his appearance and frantically moving around during the entire set, often venturing out into the middle of the crowd. Like at the Morrissey concert a few nights ago, eager fans made their way onto the stage to be by their hero, but the results were different than the beating the Moz fans took. Pink Eyes gave hugs, let people rub his hairy stomach and gave kids rides on his shoulders. Between songs he kept the crowd entertained by speaking on various subjects ranging from Henry Rollins to Barack Obama to how Midwestern people are kinder to fat people than fans on the coasts. With all of this attention, it was easy to miss the sonic attack taking place by the great band lurking in the background. There were moments where you could tell the band seemed bored or out of it, which would seem natural if you assumed no one was watching you. And although they lacked the charisma of their lead singer, the band sounded excellent and was really the engine that pushed the music forward. Their songs ranged from the straight forward chugging hardcore of their early 7″ to their more melodically dense material from their latest releases.

When the band came back for an encore they staged an impromptu crowd vote that resulted in them playing the Black Flag classic “Nervous Breakdown.” This gave the crowd on the main floor one last chance to become a sea of bodies and thrash around with their hairy, shirtless pied piper. The show was a great example of how great the hardcore genre can be. The kids in the front smashing into each other were never violent, and the music, while being loose and skuzzy, was still played with great precision. The band left the stage tired and sweaty, but with smiles on their faces, evidence of all the glowing adoration they had just received.

[Review by Josh Keller, photos by Jon Behm.]

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Also: Fucked Up @ Pitchfork Music Festival 2009