There is a point at which we leave childhood behind. For many, this point comes too late, when jobs/marriage/indiscriminate personal development have occurred, and the realisation comes that things are not as they were when we were teenagers. The eternal question remains-do we act our age or simply act?
In Dookie, Green Day made the leap from the brattish snot of Kerplunk! And …Slappy Hours to major players on the world stage, chiefly thanks to Basket Case, which instantly embraced the teens of that generation. At 16, this was the bees knees. By 17, it was all but forgotten, already an album of nostalgic potency. Even now, some 16 years on from that initial contact, the world-leading stupidity of those early records creates a Cheshire grin, and recollections of playing those notes in your first bands; that feeling of being understood.
The principle criticism levelled at the Green Day of today finds its roots in American Idiot, an album born of a band in tension, broken marriages and the frustration of world-beaters completely aware of both their legacy and their redundancy, as bands like Blink 182, Sum 41 and the wormhole-openingly cretinous Limp Bizkit succeeded them. Poised on the brink of breakup, American Idiot was to be their last hurrah, and not having planned for it to go nuclear must have been quite daunting.
See You Tonight starts off DOS! with startling delicacy. Coming over all Fleet Foxes-y it is a well measured, charming snapshot of a band at total ease. Knowing exactly what your fanbase need and expect is a pleasure rarely enjoyed by all but the most confident of outfits, so opening with something so light and pleasurable is something of a surprise. As the track ends and the trad rock and roll of Fuck Time blunders into view one gets the impression that Green Day know their legacy is secure, and for the next 2 and ¾ minutes they surpass their prior idiocy. The heavy breathing and ‘we better put some words in’ lyricism would be almost acceptable from a young band, but from men in their 40’s, it smacks of leering Peter Pans wrist-deep in vaseline.
The Killers-isms on Lazy Bones give way to an armour-plated chorus designed for maximum stadium deployment. Lyrically weaker than a foal with rickets, the ‘woah-ho’ sections are, nevertheless, excellent. As the sleepwalk guff of Wild One waves its tired hands at the listener the agonising thought that it’s track 5 of 13 forces my skin to shrink. All of a sudden Makeout Party slips off its underpants and dives into the fun pool. The soundtrack to one of those slo-mo compilations of financially astute, perma-smiling, slim/buff early 20-somethings riding surfboards down slip ‘n’ slides has been provided for the next 3 months. Stray Heart poaches the bassline from A Town Called Malice by The Jam before skipping gaily into a Prom dance. A good song, almost lost in the muck around it.
Ashley proves to be a bit more capable; brief, spunky, well constructed and with a well-delivered message (don’t whore yourself out to buy meth), it was both exciting and frustrating in equal measure. One of the few tracks on this album that sounds like they meant to make it. Lady Cobra is what you’ll be listening to if you go to strip clubs in Texas, and contains a solo that Greg Ginn would have delivered if he didn’t have a penis.
At this time, Night Life appears, with female rapping so appalling that it made me wish handguns were legal in Britain. Like the girls in Shinedown videos who stick their tongues out in photographs, this is desperate and worthless. Rarely do I come across music that makes me want to commit violent crime, so congratulations to the band. Wow! That’s Loud is a cynical sneer at the aforementioned young women, and an excellent example of what this band could do if they were still trying.
The final track on DOS!, Amy, threw me completely. A genuinely affecting and well written piece, containing the second earnest vocal on the album. If Green Day had left half this record in the rock-hard tube sock it came from I’d be singing its praises as a return to form and a step forward.
Let down fiercely by the authors group inability to choose their best material, DOS! Could have been a genuinely enjoyable record, bookended by two songs of remarkable delicacy. As it is, this is a collection of songs, not an album, and judged on that basis not a good one. Take out Fuck Time, Night Life, Wild One, the cripplingly poor Baby Eyes and 60% of Lazy Bones and this would have been a solid 4.
Come on boys-get it together!