A man calls his mom and pretends to be held hostage so he can get money to spend on drugs. A man is haunted by a bulletin board of missing kids in a Walmart. A man watches videos of dogs working and feels envious of their sense of purpose. A man gets shot trying to rob a liquor store. A man scoffs at the freaks surrounding him at a bus station, telling himself he’s nothing like them. Welcome to the world of Drug Church’s new album Prude.
In 2018, I was looking for anti-establishment punk and post-hardcore without the gimmicks or corniness that typically accompany it. Drug Church’s breakthrough third album Cheer arrived as an obvious answer. As I cycled through shitty jobs in retail and food service with a vague sense of resentment toward everyone and everything, I shouted along to Patrick Kindlon’s proclamations in “Weed Pin”: “Fuck you at $12.50 an hour/ I should’ve started a chemical fire/ I should’ve burned this fucking place to the ground.”
The band — made up of Kindlon on vocals, Nick Cogan and Cory Galusha on guitars, Pat Wynne on bass, and Chris Villeneuve on drums — maintained the hype with 2022’s explosive Hygiene. Prude takes them even higher.
When I listen to Prude, I wonder if anything’s stopping them from reaching Tunstile-level fame. It’s loud, it’s catchy, it’s smart. Opener “Mad Care” encapsulates the vigor of the start of a show: The wave of adrenaline running through the crowd, the push that sends people stumbling, the euphoric madness beginning, heightened by Kindlon’s infectious refrains: “This is your situation/ This is your circumstance/ This is your fork in the road/ This is where pathways branch.”
The best song on Prude, and maybe one of the best songs of the year, is the brilliant “Business Ethics.” It starts with Kindlon recounting his cousin faking his own kidnapping to get money for drugs from his mother; then Kindlon borrows the idea when his boss doesn’t permit him time off from work. “Kidnap yourself/ You’re the hostage here,” he sings cheekily. Kindlon told Rolling Stone that it’s based on his friend, and he explained why he found inspiration in it: “For a guy that never messes with drugs, I’m very sympathetic to people who find themselves deeper in on a thing than they anticipated.” He makes light of the situation, especially by ending the anthem on a hilarious kicker: “My cousin is full of ideas/ He needs money for drugs/ He found a scheme to rely on/ Now he works in finance.”
Prude overflows with the combination of energy and intelligence that makes Drug Church so addictive. The latter especially shines on the finale “Peer Review,” a portrait of a man who can’t get off his moral high horse: “Shoulder to shoulder with total scum/ Can’t they see I’m nothing like them?” Drug Church have never been here to preach, only to communicate universal frustrations. “You can’t feel superior to people you’re in it with/ These are your peers and you just gotta deal with it,” Kindlon concludes, a refreshing position from a musician. Like the way concertgoers will jump onto and off of the stage at their shows, Drug Church do not stand on a pedestal above their fans, everyone is on the same level.
“The Bitters” is a call for a circle pit with rapid-fire riffs and Kindlon’s sardonic shouts. “Slide 2 Me” ricochets with crashing guitars as Kindlon narrates a liquor store robbery in rasping yells. Above all else, Prude is loud, which is all you can ask for from Drug Church. But Kindlon also said sadness is a big part of the record. On the turbulent “Chow,” Kindlon expresses disillusionment with interpersonal relationships, declaring in a defeated intonation, “Don’t break your neck/ Jumping into people’s lives/ There’s rocks below the surface but not much else/ Keeping your circle small is how you rescue yourself.” Like Drug Church proclaimed on their 2015 tune “But Does It Work?,” Kindlon maintains, “Nothing ever works.” It’s true that people are disappointing, but Kindlon still ultimately wants the best for them, yearning to understand them and offering them volcanic pieces of music to possibly provide relief. That does work, thank god.
Prude is out 10/4 on Pure Noise.
