When I heard that the Buzzcocks and the Descendents were bringing their 2025 Canadian tour through the often passed-over city of Montréal, I jumped on the tickets immediately. Formed in 1976 and 1977 respectively, these two legendary punk acts from different sides of the globe have played a significant part in shaping the sonic landscape of punk music, whether that be leading the first wave of British punk in the late 1970s or pioneering the catchy sounds of So-Cal pop-punk in the early 80s. The fact that both groups are still touring and performing after nearly fifty years in what can be a pretty unforgiving industry is rare and incredibly lucky, affording younger punk fans like myself a chance to experience firsthand the iconic groups that exerted an undisputed influence on the scene we know and love today. The bands were playing Montreal’s MTELUS concert hall, a venue with a centuries-long history of entertainment and host to the likes of Green Day, Prince, and Radiohead. With a capacity of about 2,500 people, the place was already relatively full when I arrived about ten minutes before showtime. I settled into a floor spot front and center, ready to take it all in.

The show opened with Mattstagraham, an infectiously catchy pop-punk outfit from Tuscon, Arizona. Their music is fun, fast, and unapologetically political, and charismatic frontman Matt Graham had the crowd jumping up and down shouting his catchy hooks back to him from the get-go. The band’s lyrics are biting and witty – on “Can I Be VIP”, the group pokes fun at all the people they barely know suddenly cozying up to them amid their burgeoning success with the misguided expectation of free tickets and merchandise; the pithy “Broke and Hungry” is a scathing indictment of the so-called American Dream. They closed out their set with the anthemic “Caffeine”, whose soaring chorus whipped the crowd into a delighted frenzy. Mattstagraham was the perfect opener to get the crowd hyped up and ready for the acts to follow.

The crowd condensed in anticipation of the next artist, and with good reason. The Buzzcocks are veritable punk legends with a monumental legacy; it inspires genuine awe to even be in the same room as them. The group sauntered onto the stage one by one waving and smiling, seeming almost humbled to be there, as if it were a privilege to be playing for us and not the other way around. They exuded from the outset an infectiously affable energy, which the crowd returned to them in spades – right from the opening chords of “What Do I Get”, the pit roared to life. We knocked each other about good-naturedly in time to the group’s richly sunny, up-tempo tunes, whirling and slam-dancing and jumping up and down, raising our arms to ferry crowd-surfers along above the audience and over the barrier. I pogoed along with the crowd, catching stray elbows in the small of my back and careening from one side of the pit to the other, letting myself be pushed back and forth by a rollicking wave of moshers. It was exactly what I had come there to experience: good fun and a little release. Some of the concert-goers had clearly expected a tamer show and were visibly pissed at the unexpected rowdiness; I think it’s a little deluded to stand up front at a punk show and not expect it to get a little rough.

I found the crowd to be incredibly present and in-the-moment, with hardly anyone filming or taking photos; it truly felt like nobody wanted to miss even a second of the Buzzcocks’ electric show. Free from the distracting glow of my phone and the constant need to document my every lived experience, I found myself connecting to the performance in a much more meaningful way. It was the perfect way to experience the sudden wild surge in energy that descended upon us when that opening cymbal crash of “Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t Have)” rang out. In that moment, we all felt the crushing heartbreak of unrequited romance together; we shouted the lyrics like the people we loved would never love us back; Steve Diggle grinned at us from the stage like that was his plan all along. “Ever Fallen In Love” is one of my all-time favourite songs, and to hear it live was (don’t tell anyone!) a little bit of an emotional experience. I passed off the tears gathering in my waterline as dancefloor sweat and kept right on moshing.

Sticky, bruised, and in desperate need of a glass of water, I relinquished my prime pit spot and headed for the back of the venue to a calmer area behind the mixers, where I met up with a friend who I’d discovered was also at the show. Despite being a good hundred feet further back from the stage than I had been for the previous set, the experience was in no way diluted; when the Descendents trooped out on stage and exploded right into the opening chords of “Everything Sux”, I knew we’d be in for an unrelenting second act.

The Descendents blasted through a jam-packed setlist with that consummate mix of power, precision, and poise that can only be honed over lifetime of performing, ripping through the material with such finesse you’d have a hard time believing that frontman Milo Aukerman left the band several times throughout their forty-odd years of existence to pursue multiple biochemistry degrees. All throughout the show they kept up an energy that was dynamic, playful and zealous; Milo spat his lyrics into the crowd with pitch-perfect fervor, tilting his head upwards to howl them at the sky between swigs from his crossbody water bottle, while Karl Alvarez’s fingers ran expertly up and down his bass, coaxing the group’s signature giddy, meandering basslines out of the strings and slinging them into the crowd for our rabid enjoyment. The energy in the room reflected the ebullient, live-for-the-moment quality that characterizes much of the Descendents’ catalogue – I found myself howling along to goofy lyrics about silly girls and good, good things, flipping my finger to the King of England, and listening with rapt attention as Milo listed all the things he hopes to accomplish in his van. The band played a handful of tunes from their incel catalogue, with “Myage”, “Hope”, “Bikeage”, and reigning incel anthem “I’m The One” all making the night’s setlist, but pull it off with the sort of self-aware, tongue-in-cheek irreverence that reminds us they were once nothing more than a group of self-loathing, lovelorn, adolescent dweebs who just happened to go on to form one of the most important punk bands of all time. And truthfully, which one of us hasn’t been that first thing? Bill Stevenson said it best in a recent interview with DS contributor Forrest Gaddis: “Look, I was a dumbass teenager. Weren’t you?”

The band closed out their electric set with fan-favourite “Suburban Home” and “Smile”, then ran back out on stage for a four-song encore which included “Kabuki Girl” and three other songs I forgot to write down and which, at the time of writing, no generous strangers have been kind enough to add to Setlist.fm. This of course leaves you, reader, with no other choice but to go catch them on tour when they pass through your city. I can promise it’s well worth it.

It was a night of first-rate performances, nonstop dancing, and joyful, unencumbered punk energy, the kind of night that leaves you feeling decidedly awe-inspired, if slightly out of breath. My friend and I ended the night with a few drinks down the street at Montreal punk institution Foufunes Électriques before heading home to crash into bed. My takeaways from the night are threefold: 1) when the pit is good, it’s really good; 2) we should all be putting our phones away at shows more often; 3) sometimes, the best part of the punk show is letting loose, dancing like mad, and knowing that your friends will be dancing just as crazily besides you. However, if you insist on taking only one thing away from this review, let it be this: I did not cry during “Ever Fallen In Love”. That was only sweat.