Making the world listen

Mannequin Pussy are on fire, and they have no intention of cooling off anytime soon

- ANDY GREENE

IT’S A LITTLE MORE THAN three hours before Mannequin Pussy take the stage at New York venue Brooklyn Steel in front of a near-capacity crowd. A long line of fans is already stretching down the block, waiting for the doors to open. But the four members of the punk band are unable to focus on much right now besides their desperate desire to get some rest.

They’ve spent the past month crammed together in a Ford Transit van, putting roughly 5,200 miles on the dashboard and playing practically every night. They slump down on a dressing-room couch, surrounded by piles of luggage, coffee mugs, a carton of Marlboro cigarettes, and a sad little Hormel platter of pepperoni and hard salami. They’re here to talk about their new LP, I Got Heaven (out 1 March), but bassist Colins “Bear” Regisford, 37, isn’t saying much, since he appears to be at least half asleep.

“The routing on this tour is not meant to be kind to the human body,” says Marisa Dabice, 36, the group’s co-founder and lead singer. “We’re pushing ourselves to the absolute limit of what we’re capable of.”

Once their set begins and the adrenalin starts pumping, everything changes. Regisford’s entire body pulsates with energy, and Dabice stalks the stage like a feral fusion of Patti Smith and Iggy Pop, belting out painfully personal songs like ‘Perfect’ (“Kiss all my holes / Call me a bitch”). Performances like this are a big part of what has earned the group a fiercely loyal cult following throughout the US over the past few years and huge buzz in the music press.