I traveled from Chicago to Lawrence, Kansas to see Mannequin Pussy, and I left angry.
Yeah, I could have easily seen them at Pitchfork Music Festival back in July. Well, I sort of saw them there. I originally was not planning on checking them out, but in between songs during Grandmaster Flash’s set, I would hear the thrashing drums and riffs over at Mannequin Pussy’s set. It was as if their show was calling out to me. Eventually, I gave in and caught the last ten minutes. After pushing my way to the mosh pit, I immediately got hit in the face as I became surrounded by sweaty, jumping fans. I felt at home.
For me, I Got Heaven is easily one of 2024’s best albums. Mannequin Pussy delivered on a whole new level.
Their extremely successful year has seen almost non-stop touring, including both a spring and fall tour in support of the record. The Philadelphia outfit found themselves at The Granada Theater in Lawrence, Kansas on their fall tour. Seeing as the rest of the tour was either too far or sold out, and that I had friends in Lawrence, I decided that I needed to experience Mannequin Pussy to the fullest. The little taste I got from Pitchfork left me craving more, so I crossed state lines to the mild-mannered town of Lawrence to see one of the best live rock bands around.
What I found most intoxicating about the ten minutes I got to see of Mannequin Pussy at Pitchfork, was their confidence. This was a band who knew exactly who they were and what they wanted us to experience. Brash in their politics, bold in their stage presence, and seductively commanding in their banter, Mannequin Pussy found a way to give new flavor to the endless sea of punk and indie rock.
All of this is only amplified when Mannequin Pussy is headlining a show.
Accompanying the band at their stop in Lawrence was noise rock band Margaritas Podridas, from Hermosillo, Sonora in Mexico. Despite the presumably dominant English-speaking audience, the band introduced their songs and spoke to the crowd in Spanish for the majority of their set. They did not compromise who they were as a band, in either their music or identity. The crowd responded to this with moshing and applause.
Engulfed in violet and pink lighting, Mannequin Pussy softly took the stage, quite the opposite of the thunderous energy the audience was responding with. The Granada Theater is cramped and hot, and everyone there wanted in on the action the second the band took the stage. Easing their way into what would be a rowdy night, the band started with “I Don’t Know You.” Frontwoman Marisa Dabice gracefully sang as the song reached its blissful climax, signaling the cathartic chaos to come. Followed by “Sometimes” and “Nothing Like,” the riot was in motion.
Dabice took the time to address the crowd on very important matters, from the nature of their band, and their music to the shared experience we all were in.
What struck me was her slow, whispering voice. It had the Lawrence audience so quiet you could hear a pin drop in the Granada. She spoke of how her band makes music to challenge oppression and express femininity in a way they see fit, even leading the audience to scream the word “pussy” to destigmatize it. At one point in the show, we were all led in a primal scream to let out all of our anger and frustration, whether that anger was with ourselves or the state of the world, specifically about the bombings of innocent children in Gaza. Mannequin Pussy pulled no punches that night.
Despite not being advertised as a sold-out show, the energy was high-octane and celebratory. In the pit, fans were jumping and howling lyrics. Notably during “Loud Bark,” the audience sang the chorus so loud they could have easily replaced Dabice on vocals. Later in the set, Bassist Colins “Bear” Regisford took the mic to sing “Pigs Is Pigs,” not before denouncing antisemitism and calling for the liberation of Palestinians. Closing the show was a wonderful rendition of “Romantic,” a perfect closing song for fans to sing along with and sway and mosh in joy.
What Mannequin Pussy does so well is their ability to harness anger and create something beautiful.
Dabice said that most of us in the audience have some form of rage we are suppressing. The concert was certainly a safe space to let it out. Whether that was by yelling lyrics to “I Got Heaven,” moshing all night or simply screaming at the request of Dabice, Mannequin Pussy created an experience where your anger is validated. If it wasn’t, why go to their concert
Crossing state lines to experience Mannequin Pussy was worth it. Even beyond just taking some days off work to check out a cool concert in a dope town, getting to experience this band put on a show unlike others in their genre was something special. The show was more than just an adrenaline rush in a mosh pit. Their authenticity is alluring, and it heavily resonated with me after the show. Our world is going to shit, and this unsettling, festering anger from that has now become a clear indication that something is truly, irreversibly wrong. Mannequin Pussy creates that special outlet where rage is something beautiful. To quote Zack de la Rocha, anger is a gift.
All photos by Oscar De Leon
