Tooth Gore

Tooth Gore blog post 2: 

The Greatest Albums of All Time part 1: Who Will Look After The Dogs? - PUP

Yo guys, me again. This is a little series I’m gonna do where I discuss some of my favourite albums and bands and tell you why I love them. Just to get this out of the way, this is by no means an impartial review and I am in no way qualified to talk about music in any professional sense. I am simply going to provide my - extremely biased - opinions.

That being said, PUP’s 2025 album Who Will Look After The Dogs? might be the greatest album of all time. I discovered PUP at 12 years old and they have consistently been in my unranked group of favourite bands ever since (I find it truly very hard to say that one band is definitively my favourite since it feels like a betrayal to every other band I like). However, considering that PUP have been there for me at every stage of my weird little life; every catastrophic low point in my feeble mental health, and every glorious high; I’d say they’re as close as I’m ever gonna get to picking a true favourite. I remember listening to The Dream is Over for the first time and having my tiny child mind blown by the passion, the anger, the perfect balance of sarcasm and bitterness that never comes off as self-indulgent. It was a real ‘holy shit’ moment, I never realised that music could feel like that, could make me feel so seen. That’s probably why their most recent album means as much to me as it does.

It would be pretty egotistical of me to say that an album is written specifically for me, but that’s exactly what Who Will Look After The Dogs feels like. Every lyrical and musical choice feels like it was made while looking into my stupid brain. That’s probably just because both me and singer Stefan would probably benefit from some therapy. I don’t mean to diminish the real and genuine emotion present behind each of these songs with my terrible jokes, it's just that this record really hit me when I needed it most, it felt like the musical equivalent of a friend telling you that everything’s gonna be okay, and that just because things are bad now doesn’t mean that they always have to be. I’ve truly never felt so seen. 

Maybe it’s just my bias talking but there really are no filler songs here, every song brings its own personality and attitude that seem to grow on me with every subsequent listen. The faster more typical punk songs (like Paranoid and Getting Dumber - which has a great feature from Jeff Rosenstock who we will definitely visit at some point in this series) grab you immediately and really pop off live (trust me) but the more emotional, slower tunes never drag or overstay their welcome, and always bring a genuine honest charm to them. This is nowhere more present than in Hunger For Death which opens with the hilariously relevant line ‘Fuck everyone on this planet’. A truer statement has never been said, man. The album also never feels like a pity party, it manages to walk the line between genuine emotion and sarcasm with a practiced, effortless ease. 

Besides the album itself, I saw PUP twice on their UK tour of this album, once in a tiny room in Kingston where they invited me on stage to sing Reservoir from their 2014 self-titled album, literally one of the best moments of my entire life (so far). 

But for real, despite my obvious bias, this album just fucking rips, go listen to it it’s a 10/10 no notes. 

Tooth Gore Blog post 1: So Much Spaghetti.

Hello all, my name is Kobi Joe, or as you all probably know me: Tooth Gore. This is my first blog post. 

Blegh.

The story I’m about to tell is hugely unprofessional, and very embarrassing. Anyone who wants to be taken seriously would probably say that it’s a horrible idea to use this as the first story on my blog - first impressions, of course, being permanent. 

That’s exactly why I’m going to do it anyway.

 Fuck it. (A sentiment that carries through in all my works by the way, if you’re unfamiliar).

So, we begin on an unexpectedly sunny Friday evening in March. I’m a simple man, I love food. I love eating it, making it, pretty much everything about it is wonderful. Today’s dinner of choice was spaghetti bolognese, a staple for me (Italian being in my top 3 cuisines - the ranking goes as such if you’re interested: 1 - Thai, 2 - Mexican, 3 - Italian). And although I am famously uncultured, and have never been to Italy, let me tell you I was absolutely COOKING with this one. The garlic chopped so finely that it basically melts in the pan, just like in Goodfellas, the onion beautifully sauteed, the minced beef seasoned to within an inch of its life. I think somehow I channeled that talented little rat from the Pixar movie.

When I was done cooking, I served the perfectly tomatoey sauce on a heavenly bed of spaghetti (salted to perfection if I do say so myself) topped with so much cheese that every lactose intolerant person within 5 miles felt a disturbance in their stomach.

Needless to say, I gorged myself on the delicious stuff, which is never a good idea when you’re supposed to be going drinking for a close friend’s birthday in just a couple hours. 

I made quick work of washing up, then went to work making myself presentable. The usual 10 tons of hair gel, eyeliner applied with a trowel that, in the words of my sister, makes me look like I smoke crack (I don’t). I was feeling good all things considered, the smell of garlic still on my breath.

Now, I don’t remember much of what actually happened in the bar. Flashes of memories of being handed too many tequila lime sodas, someone spilling a few shots of something suspiciously brown all down my favourite skinny jeans, the overwhelming smell of piss and vomit from the bathroom. A fairly normal night out to be honest. The problem was, I wasn’t paying attention to just how many drinks I’d had. Being an autistic person, alcohol is like the best comfort blanket, like somehow it shuts out all the weirdness from my brain and for a few hours I can be normal and unburdened by my own head. Anyway, that’s how I ended up getting, ahem, politely asked to leave the premises for falling asleep with my head down on the table.

This was probably for the best though as almost immediately after stumbling out the door, I promptly redecorated the side of a bus stop with all that delicious spaghetti I told you about earlier. I remember the feeling of each individual string of spaghetti as it left my mouth and painted that bus stop. And however sorry I felt for myself, I now feel even more sorry for the poor folks just waiting for their bus (although this was 2 a.m. in London so I’m sure they’ve seen worse). 

I’m currently writing this with the tummy ache from hell, but I like to think I’m a little bit wiser for it. (I am not).

Well there you go, I feel like we all know each other a little better. Next week I’ll probably write about something normal like music or something. Blegh. 

Oh shit I forgot, Song For The Birdman came out recently, that's awesome! I’m also writing some new songs that are bomb as fuck. See you next week.