Drug Church makes melodic but muscular post-hardcore anthems that get punks in the pit and their fists in the air. Leading the way is Patrick Kindlon, whose spoken-sung-screamed lyrics satirize orthodoxies, poke holes in conventional wisdom, ravage cancel culture and pillory the indignities of life under capitalism.
To Kindlon, that lyrical shift is not as much a change in perspective as it is being worn down and frustrated into adopting something resembling a serenity prayer. He compares it to the “extremely online” phenomenon of being “grill pilled,” wherein progressives feel powerless and opt to fire up the grill rather than engage in politics.
“When you have people that rely on you directly and immediately … it’s not to say that you don’t care about other people, it’s just to say that by necessity, [other people] can’t be front of mind at all times,” he says via Zoom.
Kindlon and company were in Los Angeles briefly, to finish the follow-up to 2022’s raucous “Hygiene,” before they hit the road with punk veterans Alkaline Trio for a month-plus of shows. The singer is spending the short respite from tour tracking vocals for the album.
“Whereas everyone else gets to eat tacos for two days, I’ve got to be in a studio, fraying my voice to the point that it is probably not operational,” he says.
Not that he’s complaining about his full schedule, which — along with time in Drug Church and his band Self Defense Family — includes work as a comic book writer, podcaster and occasional YouTuber.
“My work exists in spaces where people can experience it, so it seems like I’m very busy,” he explains. “My girlfriend — she’s an office manager — she works infinitely harder. I will also add hot-tar roofers, masons, day laborers — these people work significantly harder than I do.”
That kind of labor is at the center of Drug Church’s “Detective Lieutenant,” a song that questions how quickly audiences will reject art from artists they love, especially in the age of so-called cancel culture, a “coverup” in which Kindlon doesn’t take part.
“If I do a double murder,” he posits on the song, “what this song did for you doesn’t change an iota.”
“The stonemason who built your home, you’re not auditing his beliefs the way that you insist on doing with artists, but that man is a craftsperson and an artist. In every meaningful way, the person who built your home is more of an artist than I am,” he explains. “We take it as a given that artists, musicians, writers, et cetera, are subjected to this additional layer of scrutiny where it’s not about the utility that they offer us, it’s not about the beauty that they hand us — it’s about them.”
Kindlon rejects the false binary that questions whether art should be separated from artist, instead suggesting an acceptance that the good artists offer the world is the art they put into it, especially if an artist “doesn’t share a bedroom, bathroom or grave with you.” Plus, plenty of people enjoy art without considering the artist at all — a healthier approach to life, though one Kindlon admits might not be for him.
“When I watch a movie or listen to a song, I’m immediately on Wikipedia trying to learn everything about it,” he admits. “But that might be a personality defect.”
March 5 at 7:30 p.m. at the Fillmore Silver Spring, 8656 Colesville Rd., Silver Spring. fillmoresilverspring.com. $48.
