Rocker (feedbot)
Gold Member
People debate what constitutes ‘real punk’ all the time, but whatever that intangible quality is, it’s in the air for the Menzingers’ duo of anniversary shows celebrating ten years of ‘Rented World’s release at Camden’s Underworld. Guitars are piled on the balcony, and we wear our pit-hardened dedication on our waterproofed sleeves as we stack ourselves into the inconveniently sticky dance floor. The sense that this is punk in the truest sense, divorced from the fripperies and dress up games of the scene, beams gently over us through lemonade tinted filters. Much like the Menzingers themselves, with their pared-to-the-bone sound, this second UK date is a quick and practical show with an early start and early finish. It really doesn’t need to be longer though; they accomplish everything they wanted to in a set that fits the textbook definition of how to combine heart and mind.
This is a show divided equally between two focuses, and could almost be a metaphor for the Menzingers’ seamless sharing of vocal duties between Greg Barnett and Tom May. There’s always a slight danger when playing an album in full that it could just be a rehash of a set point in the time and space of a band’s existence, rather than bringing something new to the live experience. Not so tonight. The beautiful dedication in the crowd’s heart clenching enthusiasm for each line of songs like ‘I Don’t Wanna Be An Asshole Anymore’, every lyric of Barnett’s sung back like a promise in a burst of humanity that can be forgotten over a decade of re-listens to ‘Rented World’, is what elevates tonight above a standard retrospective. The hopes realised and rejected contained in each slightly sped up refrain of ‘My Friend Kyle’ feel like a blunt, genuine celebration. The way that the guitar on ‘Transient Love’ wrings out each tone seems like a confession from the past, cushioned in distortion used as cotton wool, dusted with dandelion-light backing vocals.
However, it’s also the band’s humility and desire to share the journey that both they and their album have been on over the last ten years that make this such a standout night. May seems surprised that we’re even having fun (“Hopefully you know these songs, it seems like you do!”), and want to share morsels of backstage gossip to frame each song in our memories. “This song is maybe my favourite video, it was just the most fun fuckin time. Turns out all you need to have fun is a case of beer and some fireworks, that’s what makes for a good video,” he explains ahead of ‘Where Your Heartache Exists’s stark poetry, the depth of longing in it’s contrasts punctuated with a rough smattering of broken vocals to mark this reality of this moment. Reminiscing about the circumstances behind each song adds a rewarding depth of context, such as the disputes over who takes priority in an inadequately soundproofed practice room which fuelled a lot of ‘Rented World’ (“I think we were really angry being there, trying to fight with our metal neighbours”). The introspection accompanying ‘In Remission’ adds colour to each section before our eyes, turning it into a song that makes you want to stand up even more than you already are.
We also feel closer and closer to the Menzingers as the night goes on through their anecdotes“You feel like your work is never done, for me,” says Barnett. “For ten years, I felt like I was never satisfied with it. With these shows it feels done, it feels like I have closure.” This really is the best summary of the live presentation of ‘Rented World’ as it stands in 2024; the songs now sound like they should have sounded all along, the new versions overwriting the studio takes in our psyche in real time and our bond with the Menzingers deepening minute by minute.
As the final dark subtleties of their acoustic take on ‘When You Died’ fade, the energy spikes in an instant. This, of course, is not the end of the show, merely the beginning of the prize that is the greatest hits section. ‘Good Things’ pays tribute to jumping it out and keeping yourself afloat when everything falls down around you and screaming along to ‘Burn After Writing’ feels like self care at its most primal. Via a slower intro, ‘Try’ is a blunt instrument to bludgeon our emotions, shining light on a situation to exorcise it, telling our stories through borrowed words and applause. That’s one of the great things about the Menzingers. Both vocalists have an everyman tone when they sing that emerges a representation of our own histories, and songs that speak to our triumphs and tragedies hit the hardest.
You don’t always need flashy backdrops and showman moves to create a really great show. Sometimes, what you need is a body of work which stands the test of a relatively long amount of time, and a desire to connect with the people in front of you, using your own normality to build a bridge through to us. The Menzingers have channeled this gift into making this celebration a night that was worth waiting a decade for, and maybe that’s what defines a real punk rock show.
KATE ALLVEY
This is a show divided equally between two focuses, and could almost be a metaphor for the Menzingers’ seamless sharing of vocal duties between Greg Barnett and Tom May. There’s always a slight danger when playing an album in full that it could just be a rehash of a set point in the time and space of a band’s existence, rather than bringing something new to the live experience. Not so tonight. The beautiful dedication in the crowd’s heart clenching enthusiasm for each line of songs like ‘I Don’t Wanna Be An Asshole Anymore’, every lyric of Barnett’s sung back like a promise in a burst of humanity that can be forgotten over a decade of re-listens to ‘Rented World’, is what elevates tonight above a standard retrospective. The hopes realised and rejected contained in each slightly sped up refrain of ‘My Friend Kyle’ feel like a blunt, genuine celebration. The way that the guitar on ‘Transient Love’ wrings out each tone seems like a confession from the past, cushioned in distortion used as cotton wool, dusted with dandelion-light backing vocals.
However, it’s also the band’s humility and desire to share the journey that both they and their album have been on over the last ten years that make this such a standout night. May seems surprised that we’re even having fun (“Hopefully you know these songs, it seems like you do!”), and want to share morsels of backstage gossip to frame each song in our memories. “This song is maybe my favourite video, it was just the most fun fuckin time. Turns out all you need to have fun is a case of beer and some fireworks, that’s what makes for a good video,” he explains ahead of ‘Where Your Heartache Exists’s stark poetry, the depth of longing in it’s contrasts punctuated with a rough smattering of broken vocals to mark this reality of this moment. Reminiscing about the circumstances behind each song adds a rewarding depth of context, such as the disputes over who takes priority in an inadequately soundproofed practice room which fuelled a lot of ‘Rented World’ (“I think we were really angry being there, trying to fight with our metal neighbours”). The introspection accompanying ‘In Remission’ adds colour to each section before our eyes, turning it into a song that makes you want to stand up even more than you already are.
We also feel closer and closer to the Menzingers as the night goes on through their anecdotes“You feel like your work is never done, for me,” says Barnett. “For ten years, I felt like I was never satisfied with it. With these shows it feels done, it feels like I have closure.” This really is the best summary of the live presentation of ‘Rented World’ as it stands in 2024; the songs now sound like they should have sounded all along, the new versions overwriting the studio takes in our psyche in real time and our bond with the Menzingers deepening minute by minute.
As the final dark subtleties of their acoustic take on ‘When You Died’ fade, the energy spikes in an instant. This, of course, is not the end of the show, merely the beginning of the prize that is the greatest hits section. ‘Good Things’ pays tribute to jumping it out and keeping yourself afloat when everything falls down around you and screaming along to ‘Burn After Writing’ feels like self care at its most primal. Via a slower intro, ‘Try’ is a blunt instrument to bludgeon our emotions, shining light on a situation to exorcise it, telling our stories through borrowed words and applause. That’s one of the great things about the Menzingers. Both vocalists have an everyman tone when they sing that emerges a representation of our own histories, and songs that speak to our triumphs and tragedies hit the hardest.
You don’t always need flashy backdrops and showman moves to create a really great show. Sometimes, what you need is a body of work which stands the test of a relatively long amount of time, and a desire to connect with the people in front of you, using your own normality to build a bridge through to us. The Menzingers have channeled this gift into making this celebration a night that was worth waiting a decade for, and maybe that’s what defines a real punk rock show.
KATE ALLVEY