Liv Bruce lives for contradictions. Their band, PWR BTTM, is about to release Pageant, a sophomore album soaked in glitter and emotional whiplash—big singalongs with deeper bruises underneath. The band is getting bigger, but Bruce isn’t convinced “serious” is ever quite the right word.
“I don’t know if we ever become a fully serious band,” they say. “I think that fun is important to hold on to—even as the world burns to smithereens around us.”
That line hits harder than it should. But it sums up PWR BTTM’s appeal: a joyful mess of lipstick and distortion, channeling rage and heartbreak through a power-pop lens.
“Fun is necessary,” Bruce says. “Even in the most horrific circumstances, people still find ways to laugh, to connect. I think that’s something about the human spirit.”
But Pageant isn’t just about fun. “There’s a lot of feelings on this record,” they explain. “Feelings about relationships. Bodies. Scary interactions with mean people. It’s not just glitter and pageantry—it’s messy.”
One of the album’s singles, “Answer My Text,” captures all of that in three perfect minutes: the desperation of waiting for someone to reply, wrapped in a chorus designed to be screamed by a sweaty crowd. “I like to think it’s something you enjoy while you’re listening,” Bruce says. “Then afterward you’re like, ‘That makes me wonder about my life choices.’”
It’s a breakup song disguised as a comedy bit, which is Bruce’s favorite kind of humor. “My favorite jokes are the ones that make you laugh hard, and then suddenly—bam—there’s this hole in your chest. That’s the stuff I love.”
But don’t mistake the song for a one-off bad date. “I don’t write that after one boy doesn’t text me back,” they say. “I exist in a perpetual state of waiting for a boy to text me back. The boy in the song is a composite of like, three different boys. Also—spoiler—I’m guilty of not texting people back too.”
In fact, “Answer My Text” partly comes from a long-distance relationship in which Bruce admits they’re the terrible communicator. “It goes both ways,” they say. “And I think whether or not people want to admit it, everyone’s been on both sides of that.”
So what happens when someone you’ve dated hears a song about them on the radio? Bruce has a system for that. “I have a rule: if I write something that’s obviously about someone, they have to hear it before it’s released,” they say. “Luckily, I’ve found very understanding partners.”
And no, they don’t drop people’s names in songs. “The boy I show ‘Answer My Text’ to is the same one I show ‘See You Around’ to on our last record,” they add. “He’s great about it. Not everyone gets that kind of heads-up.”
You imagine there’s a lot of people in Liv Bruce’s past listening real close to figure out if they’re being immortalized—or roasted.
The irony is that Pageant comes together during a rare pocket of quiet. After playing over 200 shows the previous year, Bruce and co-frontperson Ben Hopkins aren’t writing on the road. “There’s no space for it,” Bruce says. “I don’t usually feel inspired to write about tour. That might be something to parse out in therapy.”
So instead, they run off to the countryside. “We literally do a residency at our old college,” Bruce says. “We set up our gear in a theater studio and just write songs, four hours a day, for a week straight. It’s the first time in a long while where we have no distractions. Just the music.”
That’s the priority for this album cycle: keep the focus on the songs, not just the politics. Not that Bruce has any interest in separating the two completely.
“Art and politics are actually very similar endeavors,” they say. “They feed each other. But there are definitely interviews in the past where we talk for an hour and never once discuss the record.”
One conversation still stands out: “It’s before the election, during Ugly Cherries, and this one person just grills us on gender and sexuality for 45 minutes. We end up giving them a Gender 101 crash course. Then they’re like, ‘Okay, that’s it, thanks.’ I’m like—wait, do you have any questions about the album we just made?”
Since then, they make a conscious effort to steer interviews toward the music. “Our political views are out there. They come through in the songs. But the songs are what we work hard on. They deserve to be talked about.”
And they do. Because as Bruce makes clear, fun can be radical, sadness can be danceable, and waiting on a text back can be just as emotionally gutting as any protest.
Listen to the full interview above and then check out the video below.
