Truck Violence & Project Nowhere: Punk Redefined in Toronto

Toronto’s Project Nowhere festival delivered a visceral, unrelenting experience Friday night, showcasing the diverse and often contradictory facets of contemporary punk. Across venues Nineteen Seventy Eight and the Baby G, a spectrum of artists redefined the genre’s boundaries, proving its enduring capacity for expression and provocation. The evening wasn’t simply a series of performances; it was a concentrated exploration of punk’s ethos in the 21st century.

Prostitute: A Sonic Assault at Nineteen Seventy Eight

The intensity began at Nineteen Seventy Eight with Dearborn, Michigan’s Prostitute. A dense, synthetic haze filled the room as the band launched into a set characterized by atonal fury and unbridled energy. The music wasn’t merely loud; it was a physical force, amplified by stark, blinding lights. Lead vocalist Moe’s shredded vocals cut through the sonic chaos, a perfect complement to the band’s relentless instrumentation. The crowd responded instantly, a churning pit forming as the band unleashed a barrage of industrial stomp, noise rock, and post-hardcore elements.

Prostitute’s performance transcended simple intensity, becoming almost unfathomable in its ferocity. Many in the audience closed their eyes, surrendering to the overwhelming sound. Beyond the moshing, a separate group of dancers moved in their own reveries, captivated by the hypnotic rhythms. The set culminated in an abrupt silence, broken only by a voice reciting verses in Arabic as the band calmly exited the stage – a jarring juxtaposition that underscored the band’s willingness to challenge expectations.

The Armed: Calculated Chaos and Stage Antics

The anticipation for the Armed at Nineteen Seventy Eight was palpable. Following sets from Kraftwerk, Sextile, and Amyl and the Sniffers, the venue swelled with a sweltering crowd. When the six-member band finally took the stage, a torrent of noise and distortion erupted, met with rapturous applause. Vocalist Tony Wolski immediately engaged the audience, promising a good time and inciting a crowd surfer within seconds.

The Armed’s live show is a carefully constructed spectacle, a blend of chaotic aggression and self-aware humor. A mid-set power outage led to an impromptu story about Tim Hortons and almond milk lattes, a moment of levity amidst the intensity. Wolski repeatedly commented on the sweatiness of the venue, acknowledging the physicality of the performance. A saxophone solo from Patrick Shiroishi and a guest appearance by Moe from Prostitute further enriched the experience. Co-lead vocalist Cara Drolshagen’s stage dives and commanding presence added another layer of dynamism.

Despite the energy and athleticism, some observers felt the performance was slightly calculated, lacking the raw spontaneity of Prostitute’s set. The band’s popularity and the hype surrounding their latest album, THE FUTURE IS HERE AND EVERYTHING NEEDS TO BE DESTROYED, may have created expectations that were difficult to fully meet. However, the final two songs, particularly “A More Perfect Design,” delivered an explosive climax, even if the audience remained surprisingly reserved during Wolski’s invitation to join him onstage.

Truck Violence: Raw Aggression and Unexpected Nuance at the Baby G

Moving to the claustrophobic intimacy of the Baby G, Truck Violence presented a different, yet equally compelling, vision of punk. Their performance was a sneering, chaotic assault, a deliberate rejection of camaraderie that paradoxically fostered a sense of shared experience. The band’s jittery, sloppy energy, combined with punishingly heavy music, created a uniquely unsettling atmosphere. Singer Karsyn Henderson’s vocals were often lost in the mix, but his physical presence – shedding layers of clothing to reveal Bench boxer briefs – served as a potent visual metaphor for the band’s raw vulnerability.

Smoke billowed across the stage, obscuring the band in a haze that amplified the sense of danger and chaos. Their music, a blend of noise rock and nü-metal, was surprisingly tight despite its haphazard presentation. A new song about jaundice and the recurring guttural “UGH” that introduced many tracks added to the band’s unsettling aesthetic. The unexpected appearance of a banjo during “Guns buried in the front yard” was a particularly striking moment, a testament to the band’s willingness to subvert expectations.

Despite the overwhelming sonic assault, Truck Violence’s performance was ultimately a display of connection. The band embraced and smiled after their set, a gesture of camaraderie that belied the aggression of their music. If Korn’s Jonathan Davis had embraced the Jesus Lizard, the result might have been something akin to Truck Violence – a band perfectly suited to the current moment.

PISS: Performance Art and Confrontational Catharsis

Before Truck Violence, PISS delivered a performance that transcended the traditional concert format. Lead vocalist Taylor Zantingh prefaced the set with a trigger warning regarding the band’s lyrics, which address themes of sexual and gender-based violence. The band even provided earplugs, acknowledging the intensity of the experience. What followed wasn’t a set, but a penance, an exorcism, a resistance. Interviews, samples, and cinematic elements were woven into the music, creating a deliberately uncomfortable and thought-provoking experience.

Zantingh’s voice, both fragile and ferocious, was often the only sound during moments of abrupt silence. Her spoken-word passages, such as “Some words are bigger than bodies… I never learned how to get them out of my mouth,” were particularly impactful. PISS’s performance challenged the audience to confront difficult truths, questioning the very nature of entertainment and engagement. Is this fun? Are you enjoying this? Not always, and that was precisely the point. PISS demonstrated that live music doesn’t always need to be a pleasurable experience; sometimes, confrontation is the most effective means of communication.

Did You Know?

Project Nowhere showcased a diverse range of approaches to the punk ethos, demonstrating that the genre remains a vital and evolving force in contemporary music. The festival provided a platform for artists to challenge conventions, provoke thought, and foster essential discussions. What does it mean to be a punk band in 2023? And what responsibility do artists have to address difficult social and political issues through their work?

Share this article with your friends and join the conversation in the comments below! What are your thoughts on the current state of punk music?

Disclaimer: This article provides a journalistic account of live performances and does not offer professional opinions on mental health or trauma. If you are affected by the themes discussed, please reach out to a qualified mental health professional.