Piss punk screams against misogyny
When Piss takes the stage, it’s not merely a concert; it’s a visceral gut punch. The performance is less a traditional gig and more a searing piece of performance art, a conceptual exorcism for the audience and the performer. This is the sound of a hardcore punk quartet and vocalist Taylor Zantingh tackling some of the hardest subjects life has to offer, all channeled through blistering noise and unflinching honesty.
Their forthcoming debut album, You Made Me / Skin On Linen, is a top-to-bottom retelling of this intensity. Listening to the music is to witness the raw, unfiltered experience of Zantingh’s lived reality—a record built from the distress of sexual violence and the complex navigation of trauma.
On stage, Zantingh paces, straining under the weight of her words, creating a performance that demands attention. Guitarist Tyler Patterson, bassist Gavin Moya, and drummer Garreth Roberts conjure slabs of noise that dance between the brutal and the danceable, ranging from the uncompromising aggression of “I Wanted To Be A Singer” to the perversely rhythmic energy of “Time Loop At Hot Slit”. Interspersed with the music are striking visual elements, featuring clips of feminist activists, literary philosophers, and young children, underscoring the profound themes at the core of the band’s work.
The magnetic pull of Piss is palpable. Despite having only released a few demos, word-of-mouth has built a dedicated following across Canada and North America. Their powerful show at festivals like The Great Escape in Brighton was arguably the most talked-about performance of the event, leaving audiences winded and deeply affected.
The connection between the band and the crowd goes far beyond musical exchange. At the heart of the project is Zantingh’s mission: to continue a vital conversation. As she reflects on the work, she notes that the success of the project reflects how many people resonate with the difficult truths it explores, simultaneously highlighting the difficulty of processing such experiences.
The journey to creating the record was a collaborative effort fueled by shared strength. Zantingh recounts that the project required not only her own vulnerability but the unwavering support of her bandmates. “It’s not just me and my lyrics that got us here; it’s all of our strengths coming together for this common goal,” she explains. This shared foundation allowed them to tackle subjects that feel overwhelmingly complex.
The music itself is a masterful blend of intellectual depth and raw emotion. Piss’ tracks ricochet between profound references to figures like Toni Morrison and philosopher Manon Garcia, and intensely raw explorations of personal pain. The opening track, “Kai And Friends,” featuring innocent children’s voices, sets a delicate stage before Zantingh unleashes the scream of “I Wanted To Be A Singer,” articulating the desperate desire to feel safe and authentic.
This artistic pursuit is intensely challenging. Zantingh admits that grappling with trauma requires constant work, and the process of creation demands resilience. The band’s work is a stark mirror to reality, confronting audiences with the often-unspoken truths about rape culture and misogyny. They offer a brutal, uncomfortable reflection that demands acknowledgement.
Ultimately, Piss’ work on You Made Me / Skin On Linen is a testament to the power of art as a vehicle for healing and dialogue. By manifesting intangible wounds in a concrete, unforgettable form, the band creates a space where listeners can find connection, process pain, and acknowledge the collective, shared experience of surviving trauma.