PUP & Jeff Rosenstock's 'CATACLYSMIC RAPTURE OF FRIENDSHIPNESS' tour brought maximum chaos to Phoenix with their “triple band” finale

To call PUP & Jeff Rosenstock's "A CATACLYSMIC RAPTURE OF FRIENDSHIPNESS" stop in Phoenix the highest energy show I've attended this decade undersells the absolute fucking chaos that consumed The Van Buren on September 30th. The moment Ekko Astral hit the stage with their self-described "mascara mosh pit" sound, any notion of a typical opener vibe evaporated–the crowd delivered full headliner energy to match the sonic mayhem in front of them.

By the third song, frontwoman Jael Holzman called for a wall of death. The entire floor obliged, briefly transforming the front section into a full-on circle pit. Their set was mercifully short–not as a criticism, but as an act of mercy. Much longer and they would've legitimately wiped out half the crowd before the headliners even took the stage.

Set changes were blink-and-you-miss-it fast, with all three drum kits already positioned on stage. Within minutes, Jeff Rosenstock was tearing into their set. Full disclosure: I'd never actually listened to Rosenstock's catalogue before this night. Not out of dislike–my algorithm just apparently hates showing me music I'll actually enjoy discovering, and the King Gizzard-to-PUP pipeline didn't extend any further in its mind. 

I can't think of a better scenario to have experienced them for the first time. Delivering a powerhouse 14-song run before–in true DIY punk spirit–they blew a fuse.

Cue the chant: "Will somebody who works here please help us with the power?!" After apologizing to the unnamed employee for summoning them with “a reggae song,” Rosenstock powered through another six tracks. And it was LOUD. Between the PA and the entire crowd screaming just about every word, the room felt overwhelmingly overstimulating, and we weren't even halfway through the night yet. Near the end of the set, Rosenstock drew attention to the singular disco ball perched on the back of the stage. Every light in the building converged on it before it was launched into the crowd, where it got smacked around like a beach ball until someone finally managed to grab on and spin themselves around.

The anticipation during the set change to PUP was palpable, with everyone waiting for the last brief lull in chaos to pass. When PUP finally took the stage, that lull died until the end of the show.

The crowd was already going apeshit as the set kicked off. Stefan Babcock commanded the room through a setlist ranging from somber to angsty, eventually announcing the live debut of "Bloody Mary Kate and Ashley" for the US leg of the tour–the first time they'd performed it this run (Syd was PISSED she missed it).

A few songs later, Babcock announced he was going through a "lead singer ego trip" and would perform the next song, "Shut Up," solo. Then "some weird shit's gonna happen." While stagehands quietly brought Jeff Rosenstock's setup back out, the spotlight kept the transition hidden in plain sight.

By the song's end, both bands were fully set up all on one stage. They exploded into the finale as a new banner was hoisted up from the ground in front of PUP's backdrop, reading in duct tape letters: "DOUBLE BAND."

People rightfully lost their collective minds. With energy levels already maxed out, it felt like the concertification of that Whitest Kids U'Know "Happier and With Your Mouth Open" sketch–the room couldn't possibly sustain this level of chaos, but somehow it did and then continued to grow.

Double Band slammed through seven songs–a mix of Rosenstock and PUP tracks, including their recent collaboration "Get Dumber." Somehow the energy levels just kept climbing as Rosenstock and Babcock played off of each other while trading vocal duties and jumping on each other's shoulders on stage eventually climaxing with Babcock crowd surfing. Still, that wasn't all in store to end the night. "What could possibly be better than DOUBLE BAND?" Babcock asked. The stage and crowd exploded shouting "TRIPLE BAND" as Ekko Astral stormed back onstage for what was easily the most chaotic cover of Alanis Morissette's "You Oughta Know" I'll ever witness.

As quickly as the supergroup formed, Triple Band was over, and so was the rest of the night. A few fans lingered by the stage for setlists and drumsticks while others queued up for merch scraps, but most of the crowd shuffled out into the streets, thoroughly spent.

It was abundantly clear throughout the night that the spirit of "DIY or die" never faded from either band over the last 10 years of performing, growing, and developing into the bands that they are now. While most bands that lose that particular spark of energy can still go on to sell out huge venues, the energy of those arenas and stadiums will never be comparable to the energy summoned during this tour.