A Green Day Fan Site

I’ve been reading a book called Dark Mirror: The Pathology of the Singer-Songwriter by Donald Brackett. It’s about the emotional aspects of writing music. The struggle to say something really meaningful without going too far. Digging around in your soul for universal human truths is heady stuff. If you aren’t careful you might get stuck back there. How do you touch a nerve without frying it? Thinking about that, the first thing that came to mind (nutty little fan that I am) was what happened to Green Day around 2003. I remembered an article talking about how Saint Jimmy kills himself, to which Billie Joe said, “Thank god for art”.

Yes and no. In the end it was Saint Jimmy who imploded, but he came from a real person. He was a live wire of emotions wrestling against any effort to keep him under control. That’s the kind of thing they have to deal with, and it nearly drove the band apart. How could it not, trapped in that stupid maze of regrets and aspirations, all the while knowing there was a way out, if they could find it. Ironically that way was Jimmy himself. A raging, spitting boy with fire in his eyes now contained by a degree of isolation. The artist always knows what makes his brainchild tick. Sometimes it’s best to give him a lead and let him run with it. Saint Jimmy did, straight off the edge of the world. He served his purpose, just like Christian and Gloria are serving theirs.

That’s what really floors me about Green Day. They keep going into the strange half-lit world at the back of the minds. Nobody said they had to. They just keep digging while we wait safely on the other side of the caution tape. Showing us all how to deal with our own live wires. Carefully, and with a lot of patience. Because even our darkest moments are just that. Fleeting.

Everybody loves a spectacle. Lots of flashing lights and flames, and maybe a rotating stage just for kicks. Everything whizzes past your eyes and ears at such speed that a one second blink makes ten things you’ve missed. At the end you walk out babbling in loud voices while waiting for your hearing to come back. “So,” someone says a day later, “what was your favorite part?”

Erm. That thing with the elephants. Yeah, and the time that guy did that flip, the one where he almost crash-landed but didn’t. That. It’s hard to say what happened when there was so much going on. It’s all a blur. The Washington Post music blog reviewed U2’s concert at the end of September by talking mostly about the stage set. “It was stunning, surreal — oh, and a rock band played beneath it, too.” I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be the other way around.

That’s why I love simple, heartfelt performances. The “Macy’s Day Parade” video, or the one for “Last Night on Earth”. Just some guys with a guitar and a microphone. I love special effects as much as anyone, but after a while it feels overloaded. Maybe we don’t need a car chase, a shootout and a dramatic rescue all at once. Without the flash, the focus is on the song. It’s only then that you realize how incredibly gorgeous the music really is. Everything in black and white, with Billie Joe singing “And I’m thinking ’bout the only road, the one I’ve never known, and where it goes” while Mike and Tre plug away behind him. All those heart-stopping notes filmed in a junkyard. Because when you’re really good at something, it shows. Without any flashing lights.

[ Written by Stacy (classof13). Thanks for sending it in! -Delfina ]

As the decade draws to a close, many lists of the top albums of the decade have been published, and of course, American Idiot has made most, if not, every single one of them. Most of the lists I have seen talk about the social importance of American Idiot, with its call-to-arms anthems; rebellion against the leader at the time, George W. Bush; and its anti-war sentiments. They also talk about the music of the album, which is both inspiring and intelligent, something you can bang your head to but still learn valuable lessons from. And, yes, while all of these aspects were important in the shaping of this album to be one of rock’s classics, I would like to look at something else either equally or more important: the personal importance of American Idiot.

Many people probably have stories just like mine. (Feel free to share them!) I will not go into detail how I found American Idiot, but it was one of the happiest moments of my life. As an eighth grader (Yes, I was one of those reviled tweens…) living in the closed suburbs at the time, it was a new world that I could know and understand. I had other music I liked, like The Beatles and The Who, but it was mostly because of my parents. And I liked Kelly Clarkson’s album, Breakaway, but, as said before, I was a tween. I did not yet have music I could call my own, until one important car ride. I can vaguely remember the first time I heard the album, and can only remember it was one of my family’s long car trips, but I can remember the experience I gained from this record as vividly as if it were yesterday. Putting American Idiot into my old CD player (i-Pods weren’t “in” yet.) and listening to it was one of the best moments of my life. Every time I listen to it I go back to that moment as an innocent eighth grader finally being opened up to the outside world.

Even though I didn’t yet understand all the anti-war lyrics and its place in society at that moment, I knew it was good music. Oh, was it good. I found myself banging my head along with every song and listening to the album multiple times, until I knew every word and every note by heart. “And there’s nothing wrong with me/This is how I’m supposed to be/In the land of make believe/That don’t believe in me,” Billie Joe Armstrong belted in my ear over and over again. And I knew exactly what he meant. I was never the coolest person, and still, five years later, am not exactly cool, but that didn’t matter anymore. There was a world-wide famous band out there who knew exactly how I was feeling.

After I saw them at Giants Stadium September 1, 2005, I began to listen to their older albums and greatest hits, and although they had great songs and lyrics, nothing could beat American Idiot for me. (I have to say “Geek Stink Breath” scared the hell out of me, though.) And to think that when I had first seen the “American Idiot” music video nearly a year before, I had found it wild and stupid, to say the least.

I found that not only did I love the music, but the boys in the band were great as well. Mike Dirnt, although the quietest member of the band, had a great sense of humor and a mean bass riff; Tre Cool, a wild, wacky and fun guy who was never boring, to say the least; and Billie Joe Armstrong: what can you say about him? All I knew was that I was literally in love with this man. I had never felt this way about a singer before. He was quiet and at first I was surprised by his slightly nerdy voice, but that did not matter. The way he spoke his mind, controlled the crowd at concerts, even the fact that he had a wife and was a loving and doting husband: hell, I just loved everything about him.

American Idiot helped shape me into the person I am today. I learned not to take anything at face value, to speak my mind and to not care what anybody else thought of me. And five years later, now almost 19 and more mature, I can understand the importance of the album and what it meant to the world back in 2004, both socially and musically. But, most of all, I had found a music I could call my own. I loved everything this band wrote, something that never happened with any other band I had listened to. Billie Joe Armstrong once said that everybody has that band that just changes their life. Well, Green Day was that band for me.

So, after a long five-year wait, I was very happy when I listened to 21st Century Breakdown to hear it both lyrically and musically beat American Idiot. But American Idiot will always have the special place in my heart. When the world is looking ugly, and I may not feel so great about myself at the moment, I just turn on my i-Pod and listen to my all-time favorite album. No, there’s nothing wrong with me, and there sure as hell is nothing wrong with this album.

Another critic posted a predictable backhanded critique complimenting Green Day’s American Idiot and 21st Century Breakdown while simultaneously dismissing Dookie as “nothing particularly groundbreaking.” He writes that while it’s “ridiculously infectious,” it is made up of “crude lyrics and derivative arrangements.” This is the kind of thing that’s been written again and again by critics and has become mind-numbingly tiresome. But even Green Day fans have been known to ask why it is that older fans, who are presumably not captivated by Dookie’s themes of teenage alienation, would take a shine to an album like Dookie.

I fell in love with Dookie when I was 30 years old. And “fell in love” is too weak a phrase. I loved it obsessively, listening to it incessantly and finding myself carried away on its combination of infectiously bouncing giddiness and no-holds-barred musical attack. Even though I’m not particularly musical — and perhaps because of it, since I could fully grasp the directness of the music on Dookie even without any particular sophistication on my part — what I adore about Dookie is the music. The taut, powerful guitar riffs, the drums and bass that pound in your chest, the delicious melodies, the lovely nasal, whiny, heartbreakingly sweet voice. I would love this album equally if the lyrics were in a foreign language that I didn’t understand.

I went to art school years ago, where I learned to look at things for what they are, rather than running for some explanation that relies on words to tell me how to feel about something I can see right in front of me. It gave me a frame of reference to appreciate all the arts, including music, on their own terms, without expecting that everything should be “groundbreaking” or somehow wildly original or intellectually complex, as if that were the ultimate goal of every artist. Art is not about showcasing one’s ability to be complicated or deep, it’s about creating a disarming, perfect expression that touches another person’s heart or mind. Simplicity is highly valued in the visual arts, because directness is an elusive accomplishment, and, when it works, it just knocks you flat on your ass.

Green Day didn’t invent rock and roll, they didn’t invent punk rock, and they didn’t invent jangling pop hooks. The history of popular music is a continuum, in which all artists build on one another’s accomplishments. (That’s actually true of all human endeavors, which is why it makes little sense, in general, to value individual contributions so highly over the contributions of the whole canon of human output.) So what if Dookie is not groundbreaking? Rock and roll is a traditional art form, and punk rock, in particular, sticks pretty closely to some very specific parameters. It isn’t meant to be innovative, it’s meant to kick ass. When they recorded Dookie, Green Day didn’t re-invent the proverbial wheel, but they made a really fucking kickass wheel, the likes of which had not exactly been seen before, not with quite that same power, appeal or perfection.

Dookie was such a revelation to me that I thought I had just not been paying enough attention to the music scene, and that if I sought them out there would be other bands that I would love as much as Green Day. And I did start listening to a lot of other great bands at the time, but none of them were quite Green Day. Dookie may be easily dismissed by critics for not meeting their particular criteria for pretentiousness or complexity, but it’s a gem. If critics still don’t get it, tens of millions of fans certainly do. There is a reason why Dookie is such a beloved album, and the reason is not that we’re all crazy-in-love with songs about masturbation (not that I’m knocking them…).

[ Written by Abbey ]

I recently went into a Green Day funk and I have just about dug myself out of it. I have come to accept, with love and honesty, that I will never be GREEN DAY SUPERFAN! First off, I LOATHE to call myself a fan - fan sounds well, all Laurie L - if you took the insert at face value and not as an insult - which I think it is, how the fuk did it end up in Kerplunk?. But I digress - I simply have a lot of love for the band and their music and you can call me a fan but I’ll still cringe inside.

After getting over the shock of seeing them in concert and having that experience infect me in the most bacterial-spreading way I did what any 21st century goober does and I took to the internet to diagnose my new found Green Day disease and search out others that had been infected. JOY OF ALL JOYS - there are so many of us infected there are cyber-wards for us to delight in our disease together! Nurse Delfina Rachet here at NWWM makes sure we all get our daily Green Day meds - no hiding them under your tongue people!

So I delight in discussing Green Day, their left-coast punk roots, the music, the lyrics, the shows, the growing old(er) with them, the sweat lodge communal experiences that only us purely diseased fans can appreciate. “Billie Joe gave you the finger! How awesome!” However, I am also finding these undertones of operating-thetan (OT to you scientologists out there) levels of fan-ness: highest attainable level - SUPERFAN!. We can debate this but I think as fans (gasp), we all want to have an individual, unique experience with Green Day. Personally my dream experience is to take Tre to Nobu and share my favorite yellowtail jalapeno sashimi with him, drink an offensively expensive case of cab with Billie Joe and take Mike down with some jagerbombs (caffeine! alcohol! together!). Yes, I’m more likely to win powerball.

Green Day fans wait outside venues for DAYS to get a chance at a rail-spot for a look, a touch, a stage moment, the water-gun, a wrestle (that’s a new one), a shot at Longview. I die for each and every person that gets that gift of the individual connection - I LOVE to share in that experience with them thru their own world view - what was running thru their mind, the impression it left, how does it make them feel now. The thing that bothers me about it is they then become the SUPERFAN! I take nothing away from them for making that moment happen, for giving themselves the comparative advantage to be in the right place for that experience, perhaps by waiting outside in the rain for 30-hours at a venue. BUT I JUST CANT DO IT. So I am relegated to never being Green Day SUPERFAN! I have nothing to put on my GDC signature that can signify my status in the SUPERFAN! club. I will never be on-stage, at the rail, I will never have that moment and sadly neither will hundreds of thousands of other dedicated Green Day fans. The boys know there is no intimacy in performing in stadiums so they create the hugest fan spectacle love-in they can and I so truly thank them for that. But as their tour bus has chugged on across the globe I dove deeper into my funk seeing the SUPERFAN!s delight in their status as I scraped thru the interweb to find any new-ish interviews.

To conclude this long and self-serving ramble, after MSG2 I saw a SUPERFAN! at a hot dog cart right outside Penn Station (he had played Tre’s drums on stage). I went up to him to say hi and introduce myself. The kid grabbed me, gave me the hugest, warmest, most genuine hug (keep in mind this was NYC) - he was just beaming. He needed to share with me as much as I needed to mooch off of his SUPERFAN! experience - it was at the heart of what I love sharing with all you SUPERFAN!s out there. So I ask all you SUPERFAN!s, be kind and humble to those of us that will never be up at the rail. And Green Day know that there is a person up there in section 401 row Z that loves you, and a fan that doesn’t have the money to get to a show that loves you, and a fan that is too young to be allowed to your show that loves you. We may never be SUPERFAN!s but we struggle for that connection and love you all the same.

Watching the video for “21st Century Breakdown,” I was struck by how it focused so often on Billie Joe. Most of the recent concert photos do the same. There’s a shot or two of Mike and Tre, and maybe even Jason. But the money shot is always Billie. It’s a strange thing about frontmen; they have a magnetic attraction that all the drum fills in the world can’t duplicate. Not that there is anything wrong with being a bassist or a drummer. They’re completely vital to a band. The leader singer just has an edge. They embody the lyrics. They are the disaffected kid banging his head against the wall, or the raging punk rock king of mayhem and madness. Done well, the crowd will eat it up.

In a lot of ways it’s the hardest job in the world. Take a bunch of people you’ve likely never seen before and make them love you. Hell, make them adore you so much that they squeal. (Did you see that mouse? It was huge and it looked just like me!) So you dig down deep into your soul, finding something they can all relate to. Then blast it so loud the whole block can hear. It takes guts to display your diagrammed heart on the big screen. Most people keep that sort of thing under lock and key. In an unlit dungeon guarded by snakes.

So yes, the frontmen get all the attention. They’re also walking the biggest tightrope. In doing so, they give us a communal experience we might not have known was possible. Night after night, across the world, on stages and computer screens everywhere, they play. It’s that moment in “Bullet in a Bible” when Billie Joe grabs the camera and starts messing with it. Or the stories he tells between songs, or the way he runs off the stage and into the thick of the crowd. Always looking for a connection, making sure everyone is involved. Bringing us all a little bit more into the gray spaces of the world, where the intangibly lovely feelings are. Funny how such a selfless thing comes off in the press coverage as selfish.

It can feel like someone is everywhere when really it’s just their words and their picture. That’s the fascination, being so close and yet so far. Giving the key to your mental code to a person you haven’t met. Trusting they will understand. Hoping they do. Waiting for a moment of magic. So I watch the video, and you can barely see my face around my smile. Hey, have you tried resisting a magnet?

“I smell pot. Jesus is gonna git you!”- Billie Joe Armstrong onstage in Nashville, TN, 2005.

I think I’m going to test the waters and drop myself into a little bit of controversy. Well, perhaps it’s more of a touchy issue than it is controversial.
For starters, I love Green Day’s new album; it swirls and soars with great melodies, lyrics and the metaphors and symbols light up with a great flash in your mind. I’m tempted to say that they have outdone themselves again, and that’s probably true. “21st Century Breakdown” delves deeper into the human experience than “American Idiot” in my opinion; “AI” was more about turbulent political times, maybe even the revolutionary ideas bubbling beneath the surface of pacified America. “21st Century,” on the other hand, explores more of the emotions people keep inside, not necessarily just the political atmosphere, but the overall state of our lives and the lingering sense of hope we all feel. Of course, before Christian and Gloria get to the hope at the end with “See the Light,” Billie Joe throws them into turmoil.
Which brings me to “East Jesus Nowhere.”
And here comes the touchy issue. I am proud and happy to admit that this is song is my absolute favorite off the new album; I find it to be the perfect Green Day song (or one of the most perfect ones). Not only does it have kickass guitar riffs and a great drumline that gets your heart pounding, it also reveals what Green Day do best- conveying a message to us. Now, I fully understand why there are some people who could get angry with the band; after all, religion is a very personal thing. I have two good friends who are religious myself. But it’s a hallmark of Punk Rock- of all Rock and Roll- to stir up the masses and get everyone all riled up. To be honest, if Billie Joe can sing about his darkest thoughts or feelings- namely suicide and drug use- why is it so shocking for him to write about religion?
You could even see it coming. It’s not like he’s a stranger to this kind of word play, either: Jesus of Suburbia (one of the most vulnerable and tortured characters I’ve ever encountered) speaks for himself. The religious metaphors are even present in the Foxboro Hot Tubs songs, from ‘Mother Mary’ to ‘She’s a Saint, Not a Celebrity,’ and even my favorite line of ‘the Pedestrian’: “it don’t take a Jesus/to save my soul.” The new album is full of word plays as well, like “Christian’s Inferno,” which in my opinion is a very clever one.
But I still believe “East Jesus Nowhere” is the defining song of Billie Joe’s opinion on religion or even his fears about it- clearly he’s fascinated by it, in a way. The song leans more toward his disgust with the commercialism of religion rather than his dislike of the idea itself. I can understand how people are quick to judge the band for something like this, but the explanation is all there. What Billie Joe is calling ‘blasphemy’ is the fact that there is greed within the church, the one place that is supposed to be free of sin. I’m sure there are times when people like that slip through the cracks and get carried away with all the power. (But keep in mind, I’m not saying it’s true for every church out there).
As a writer, I really have to appreciate the words he uses to paint such vivid pictures; one thing that gives me the chills is the repeated shout of ’stand up! sit down!’ which I find to be a very eerie representation of the Catholic service. That is something so powerful to me.
My favorite line is what follows: ‘Say a prayer for the family/drop a coin for humanity/ Ain’t this uniform so flatterin’?’
I think Billie Joe is messing with our minds at this point, making us take the root out of what his lyrics are saying. He’s pulling you out of your comfort zone so gradually you don’t even realize it. Whether or not he meant to do this, I have no idea. I think he’s voicing his disgust in that sentence; the ‘uniform’ he speaks of is something both the church goers and religious figures would wear; all this control is giving them power- now they feel as though they have a voice, when the truth is, the church is telling them what to think, what to believe, and they mistake this attractive authority for individuality. To top it all off, they willingly accept this conformity. And Billie Joe is understandably maddened by what he now realizes.
I can understand his religious frustration, but in no way am I saying it’s all the same- that all religions and churches are hypocritical and oppressing of all personality. But I know how it can certainly throw your mind into a panic, so badly to the point where your thoughts go in continuous circles. It can make you feel terribly inadequate because your faith is lacking. Just as Billie experienced his moment of ‘oh my god, is he really saying that?!’ I did so as well. And that’s why the song speaks to me.
Which brings me (hopefully) to the point. “East Jesus Nowhere” should be taken for what it is- a rock and roll song. It’s not some kind rant that was purposefully put on the album to stir up controversy, it’s an anthem of a person’s personal view and opinion; it wasn’t directed at one religion in general, and it’s not specifying that one is better than the other. We shouldn’t hate Green Day for pronouncing their own beliefs, just as we shouldn’t hate others for having their own different beliefs. The way I see it is, if you can find something like Punk Rock- which gives you everything and asks for nothing in return except maybe a profound thought; something that everyone can share, people from all backgrounds, races and creeds…
Why let something like a simple opinion keep you from enjoying it?
I’m thankful Billie Joe shared his message with us, even if not all of us can agree with him or like him for it. If anything, just immerse yourself in the music and be taken away from your world along with it.
Choosing whether or not to take meaning from it is entirely up to you.

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