Maruja arrived stateside on September 22nd for the opening show of their North American tour. With their Pain to Power tour marking the English rock group's first headlining run through the states, The Sinclair's audience made it clear this tour has been highly anticipated. From mosh pits to melodic sermons, Maruja showcased their versatile approach to punk rock and its ability to unite crowds with communal power.
Local Boston talent Main Era opened up the night’s gig, baptizing The Sinclair with experimental audio that highlighted the emerging band's specialty in noise rock sequenced with warped clips of radio newscasts. The soundscape between tunes built a clever narrative for current events, contrasting news statements with that of contemporary rock. Main Era delivered an exciting set that primed the crowd perfectly. By the time Maruja took to the stage, the foundation had been set and the pit was buzzing, ready to thrash—and left without disappointment.
Opening with “Bloodsport,” a whiplash of a song off their debut album Pain to Power, Maruja stamped their sound directly onto the Boston noise-rock scene. Lead vocalist Harry Wilkinson immediately motioned for the pit to be opened, and the floor erupted in unified energy. Eager to join the commotion of that pit, Wilkinson climbed down among us, singing and energizing those on the floor. Blast beats from drummer Jacob Hayes mixed with saxophonist Joe Carroll's prominent trills drove the pit into frenzied motion. With vitality in a show like this, it’s hard to contain the energy you bring to the concert. In a display of showmanship, which seemed like an invitation at the same time, Wilkinson dove off stage, supported strongly by the pit of fans. That intensity persisted throughout the set, carrying through releases like “Break the Tension,” “Zeitgeist,” and "Thunder.”
As fans raged to recognizable mosh tunes and participated in a number of stage dives of their own, Maruja continued the night with reminders of their melodic and psychedelic range. “Trenches,” “Saoirse,” and "The Invisible Man” brought the volume down while keeping every audience member engaged with the music. Wilkinson's lyrics commanded the venue's attention, exploring stories of mental health, social politics, hope, and anger throughout their music. Support by bassist Matt Buonaccorsi drove the deep melodies, with the crowd singing along.
After a number of dives, mosh pits, and enthusiastic applause, it was clear the band had achieved the communal power they'd demonstrated through their music. Maruja extended that unity beyond the venue, with Wilkinson speaking between songs about the world's current struggles—calling out a reality where billionaires blame immigrants for inequality while expressing the band's solidarity with the people of Yemen, Sudan, Ukraine, and Palestine. Wilkinson emphasized: “Although our music is built on power, our message is ultimately one of peace.” The band made it clear that the solidarity they'd built through music was inseparable from standing with the marginalized worldwide.
Finally, in what felt like an act of communion within the music hall, Maruja invited the crowd to raise a fist in solidarity, which was accepted by nearly the entire venue. Closing with Resisting Resistance, an instrumental that encapsulates the group’s distinct sound, the band warmly thanked the crowd with peaceful gestures and dismissed the venue. The images say it all: music, message, and audience united over sound. Boston got a masterclass in what punk rock is capable of when it matters.
