Monday nights don’t usually feel like this. At Roadrunner, the Brighton venue turned into a sweat-drenched punk playground as PUP and Jeff Rosenstock shared the bill for one of the most chaotic, joyful nights the Boston punk scene has seen this year. With Ekko Astral opening, the lineup felt less like a typical tour stop and more like a community rally disguised as a show.

Speaking of Ekko Astral, they didn’t treat their slot as warm-up duty just as warm-up duty. Their set fused punk noise with pointed political commentary, calling out ICE, U.S. foreign policy, and the current administration between songs. As two-thirds of the band are trans women, the urgency of their words carried weight. What could have been a quick forgettable 30-minute set turned into one of the night’s most memorable performances, surpassing the low expectations that often dog openers on double-header bills.

By the time Jeff Rosenstock and his band stormed the stage, the message was clear: this music is protest, but it’s also just fun. Behind them, an American flag reimagined in rainbow colors with weed leaves for stars and a bold “666” at its center hung like a mission statement. A trans pride flag sat in full view. Rosenstock’s set was a mix of sing-along anthems and communal catharsis, with the audience screaming every word back at him. The pits looked like a big blur of limbs and sweat, but never crossed into violence. Before their sets, each band made a point to remind the crowd: help each other up, look out for each other.

Next came PUP, the Toronto four-piece band who everyone had come out to see. Charging through songs like “Dark Days,” “Morbid Stuff,” and “Kids,” they turned Roadrunner into a boiling pot of motion. Their stage presence was electric, frontman Stefan Babcock teetering between self-deprecation and full-tilt chaos.

The night escalated further when Rosenstock returned for “Double Band,” merging both groups for a run of shared songs and covers. “Hey Allison!” and “We Begged 2 Explode” blurred the line between headliner and guest, until the curtain-call moment: “Triple Band.” It was a wild, three-band rendition of Alanis Morissette’s “You Oughta Know,” with Ekko Astral joining the fray. It was messy, it was loud, and it was perfect. It was exactly the sort of communal exorcism that makes punk shows less about watching and more about belonging.

For anyone who still pictures punk as angry nihilism, Monday’s show at Roadrunner offered a different story. Yes, there were mosh pits and crowd surfers. Yes, the amps were pushed to their limit. But at its core, the night was about building a space where chaos and care coexist. Punk may look intimidating from the outside, but inside, it’s one of the most welcoming corners of live music, and in Boston, on a random Monday night, its fans had found a home.

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