Notes On Two Mannequin Pussy Pits

“*I Got Heaven* came into the world during a spring of global heartbreak and a responding collective effort to build a better world.”

I’m not one to see an artist twice on the same album cycle. I’ve only done it once before for Caroline Rose’s The Art of Forgetting tour but when the opportunity to see Philly punk band Mannequin Pussy live in two cities in the same week arose, I knew I couldn’t say no. After all, the band’s recently released fourth album I Got Heaven, out on Epitaph Records in March, has soundtracked my spring of rage and longing. Lead singer and songwriter Marisa Dabice’s lyrics and voice speak to something deep within me. “A pit,” is how she described it at the shows I saw this month in Detroit and D.C. “If you’re here, it’s because you have a pit within you,” she told the crowds. I listened, enraptured and cracking that pit within me wide open, not just once but twice.

The only plans I had for the two gigs I saw were to: dance, sing, cry, and probably buy some of the band’s killer merch. I managed to do all four tasks across my two shows; I cried in Detroit but not D.C., bought merch in D.C. but not Detroit, and I danced and sang in both cities. Whatever other nebulous expectations I had were immediately exceeded the second Mannequin Pussy hit the stage and both venues suddenly turned into a Philly house show. Sweaty, packed, buzzing, and familiar; I felt like I was being transported home. In Detroit, at a sold-out St. Andrew’s Hall (max capacity of 1,000) on May 10th, I chose to stay on the outskirts of the pit and feel the electricity pulse outwards from its core. Smaller pits formed, orbiting the large one at the base of the stage. Hugging the wall at the far right of the venue felt like standing at the edge of the water at a beach, waves of energy radiated towards me. No matter where you stood, you found yourself bouncing along and being pulled into the current. A week later, I was transfixed again as the band’s 2021 song “Control” turned D.C.’s much smaller and recently opened Atlantis venue (max capacity of 450) into one singular pit full of people jumping and spinning and hugging. It felt more like a family reunion than the demonic punk shows your parents warn you about. When it came time for the audience to contribute their voices to the chorus of “Loud Bark,” Dabice told the crowd they were “sexy, perfect, no notes.” The same could be said about Dabice’s performance herself, she had total command of the stage and the crowd. I found myself captivated by her every movement and nailing each note.

Dabice is part of a long legacy of badass women leading punk bands. Her lyrics have been compared to Patti Smith and her stage presence to the riot grrrl acts of the 90s. In the week between my Mannequin Pussy shows, I caught punk and riot grrrl legend Kathleen Hanna herself in D.C. on tour for her new memoir, Riot Girl. Hanna said that D.C. is the only punk scene she’s been a part of where if you fall in the pit, people will undoubtedly pick you back up. That D.C. punk ethos and communicable care were on display and in action in the pit of Mannequin Pussy’s set.

The power of punk as a political tool was evident too. A Palestinian flag hung over keyboardist Carolyn Haynes’s set-up, demanding to be seen by the crowd. Both Mannequin Pussy and opener Soul Glo, another Philly punk outfit, used the time between songs to condemn U.S. funding for Israel and celebrated the college students, particularly students of color, protesting on their campuses. Dabice addressed the D.C. crowd directly by saying “the fucking fuckers who live in your town call themselves politicians but they’re war criminals and arms dealers.”

I Got Heaven came into the world during a spring of global heartbreak and a responding collective effort to build a better world. Both Mannequin Pussy and Soul Glo built upon the momentum of shared resistance and energy among their fans to create a night that wasn’t an escape from the pain of the outside world, but rather a reminder of what happens when we harness our collective rage into action and music. The night’s greatest release came in the communal primal scream that the band has facilitated at their shows for years. In that moment, the band alongside me and hundreds of other D.C. punks, let out all of the aggression, frustration, and exhaustion pent up within us. The scream was so loud that it shook the floorboards beneath us and the walls surrounding us at both venues. Thankfully, we were all safe amongst each other. Harkening back to Hanna’s words earlier in the week, I know that if someone were to fall into the pit during the energy of Mannequin Pussy’s primal scream, I would pick them up. And it feels good to know that everyone else around me would do the same.

Mannequin Pussy and Soul Glo’s stars are only going to rise higher and higher. After their two sold-out nights in D.C., both bands made a homecoming to Philly for three sold-out nights at Union Transfer (max capacity of 1,2000). Next up, touring will take them across Europe before returning to the States in July for additional I Got Heaven tour and festival dates. I’ll catch them a third time this year at Maryland’s All Things Go Festival in October. Until then, I’m resigned to listening to the album on repeat just like I did before this fateful week. What a gift it is to see artists perform right when they’re on the cusp of something bigger. I can’t believe I got to see them twice. The two performances showed me that no matter where you find them, Mannequin Pussy and their fans are able to make you feel at home.