A Green Day Fan Site

Not long ago I wrote about the Green Day SUPERFAN! and how I was relegated to never be one. Well everyone get out your shock because this past weekend, I too, became a SUPERFAN! and let me tell you it was good…ohhhhh, so good. I would like to say that I was lucky enough to go see PINHEAD GUNPOWDER, but it really had very little to do with luck. I have always believed the SUPERFAN! experience has nothing to do with luck, rather it is more about persistance, planning and an overreaching drive to make it happen. For me, it took planning, a bit of a leap of faith that this show was actually going to happen, a fair amount of sheckles, and the friendship of a truly selfless and wonderfully beautiful woman to make my trip to Berkeley, CA to see PINHEAD GUNPOWDER happen. I will emote more on the SUPERFAN! experience in a later posting.

PINHEAD GUNPOWDER is Aaron (Cometbus) Elliott, Billie Joe Armstrong, Bill Schneider, and Jason White. The vast majority of lyrics are written by Aaron, and to me, have the amazing spirit of COMETBUS in them. PINHEAD played at 924 Gilman, the collectively run punk performace space in Berkeley whose history can be read in the book 924 Gilman. Needless to say it was the performance space that birthed a legacy of bands, and for that, 924 Gilman merits a trip there, regardless who is playing, if you find yourself in Berkeley. As both a GREEN DAY fan and an even larger COMETBUS fan, this was not a show I could miss . The show kicked off rather…well…mellow…as a sing-a-long (!?!?!?!?!!!) while GILMAN got itself together with the sound. If I remember correctly, we sang “My Boot in Your Face is What Keeps Me Alive”, “Find My Place” and “Achin to Be” sans mics. Then, with working mics, Billie and Jason quickly got into a zone, Bill jammed like a mofo, Aaron kicked in with drums POUNDING it out and the show really began. The rest of the show was a bit of a blur, with highlights for me including LANDORDS and LOSERS OF THE YEAR, MPLS SONG, WESTSIDE HIGHWAY, ANNIVERSARY SONG, and NEW BLOOD. I could have lived without 2nd STREET, MAHOGANY and BIG YELLOW TAXI and would have preferred KATHLEEN, SWAN SONG and KEEPING WARM IN THE NIGHTTIME.

There was a bit of crowd surfing and the heaving of fans towards the stage throughout the show which probably crushed a fair amount of people. A Gilman friend dropped me a tip on where to stand and it worked like a charm…I was magically moved from the side wall behind some people, to where I ended up - sitting on the stage at Bill Schneider’s mic stand (thanks again for that tip.) One of the cheesiest highlights for me was my screaming out the words to LOSERS OF THE YEAR at Aaron, and getting a smile out of him for a split second before he reverted back to angry punk dude. It was, for me, a once in a lifetime show and something that will be close to my heart for a long time and probably life-changing in ways I havent even realized yet.

[Me at Pinhead Gunpowder 2/12/10]

Now there WAS luck involved for this next east bay event I attended, the COMETBUS art show. How it coincided with me being out there for the PINHEAD show was like a perfect alignment of the stars. So, yes, Im a COMETBUS fan. I cant remember how I found his zine but Im sure it was from something GREEN DAY related. How to describe COMETBUS zines? Im not quite sure I have the words…I could sit here staring at this computer screen for a solid week trying to finesse a pithy statement to describe it, so in the interest of getting this on to NWWM, I implore you to just pick them up and read them. They are heartwarming, heartbreaking, insightful into both the individual and collective human experience, and they make me laugh…and laugh HARD…and they make me think…they have layers upon layers to them which make reading and re-reading them pure joy.

So, clearly I give the pieces written by Aaron and his tribe of contributors some real brain-time, however, what I NEVER kicked around in my brain was the artistry of the covers for his zines. I never thought of them as, well, as art, I just never thought much of them at all. That ended the moment I stepped into 1-2-3-4 GO RECORDS which is displaying the art creations of Aaron Cometbus - musician, writer, AND artist. It was like seeing a side of someone that was always there right in front of me, but I had always overlooked it. Aaron pretty much pulls his skirt up and lets us into his creative panties. He writes in his intro to the show “my medium - pen, paint and xerox - was probably my mother’s fault. She was an artist, working in fiber and textiles. I was inspired by her use of shading and ability to define form with just a few lines”. He then adds “Through distorting an image, I try to bring out some darker, more vulnerable truth hidden underneath the surface. I like to combine different moods and different faces - unlikely combinations that mix pleasure and a sense of dread and unease”. Aaron uses multi-layers of imagery in his art in a very parallel way that he uses the multi-layers in his writing. Now having gotten a peek at Aaron’s creative panties, all those COMETBUS zine images make so, so, so much more sense to me now. I left 1-2-3-4 GO RECORDS absolutely GIDDY! I was just made privvy to this amazing secret that really was never a secret to begin with.

I will leave you with the PINHEAD GUNPOWDER cover Aaron created for SHOOT THE MOON. The photo on the left is the original photo which looks to have been in some fishing related book. The image on the right is the altered image and album cover. It is difficult to see via this photo captured from my phone but you can see how he created a much “darker” image from a completely emotionally-neutral image….the face of the man is now hidden, the tools in front of him have a menacing feel to them. I was really quite taken by seeing the original images next to his creations. It heightened for me the complexity of his images in a way I had never been able to appreciate before.

Shoot the Moon album cover, artwork by Aaron Cometbus

The Aaron Cometbus art show runs thru February at 1-2-3-4 Go Records in Oakland.

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…).

Billie Joe wears a name tag in concerts that says “Jesus,” and it’s funny and tongue-in-cheek. But how many are willing to, uh, raise their hands to testify that they indeed felt saved — or at least liberated — by the crazy circus of powerful music, hilarious antics, and generous embrace that is a Green Day concert? Or even by listening to the albums at home, screaming along to the lyrics?

Billie Joe is a humble kind of guy. He’s more likely to say something funny or self-deprecating than to become impressed with himself, but he would have to be blind not to see the devotion and love of his multitudes of fans. He’s so sweet that he deals with it by taking whole swaths of his needy and bleating sheep unto his bosom, like a pastor tending to his flock. Green Day concerts are a revivalist meeting without the guilt. There’s no fire or damnation, just a lot of goofy, slobbery love.

It can be hard to accept that Green Day has millions of fans and that no matter how much we love them or how devoted we are, we are, each one of us, a small speck in a heaving ocean. But that’s the great part too, that their love, silliness, and talent is spread so liberally and generously that it’s available to everyone. But who am I kidding, don’t we all want a little something?

When Moonbeam wrote that she was so thrilled by a smile from Billie Joe that it will last her a lifetime, I can completely understand. I would be too shy to climb up on stage even if I had the chance. And the thought of hanging out with the boys just makes me laugh. I have no such fantasy. Not even in dreams. I went to see a reading and acoustic set by Frank Portman of the Mr. T Experience not long ago. It was at a bookstore. I could easily have gone up to him to say hello, but I’m too shy even to talk to Frank Portman. I blushed when he glanced my way while he was singing.

I’m a dork, but I’m fine and happy with that. Like Moonbeam, I’m thrilled at the little tidbits I’ve had from Billie Joe, and even more thrilled, to be honest, at having been there at all, at concerts and other events, a starry-eyed audience member.

Participating in the forums has a tendency to create a kind of feeding frenzy. People are breathlessly talking about what special things they were able to do, and it creates a yearning that is destined never to be fulfilled, because someone else will always have more time, money, or freedom to travel, or more gumption, or just more luck. But trying for the brass ring becomes expected, and you’re a loser for failing and doubly a loser for not even trying. On your own, you might have gone to one concert and felt ecstatic, but if you get sucked into the superfan vortex, you start to feel like a loser for not grabbing Billie Joe’s ass when you had the chance. Or for not going to even more concerts, or not jockeying harder for a better position… It’s exhausting.

I went to see Billie Joe’s New York Times interview in 2005, but I didn’t talk to him afterward. I was completely, deliriously happy, and I didn’t want any stress over “meeting” him. I was grinning like a goofy idiot all the way home. But I had an online “friend” who was actually angry at me for not talking to him.

I could brag about my occasional superfan moments, even though I haven’t much tried to get any, but to be honest I feel like a shithead doing it. Tell me how this makes you feel: In 1994, I traveled from Texas to the University of New Hampshire for a Green Day concert. It was the only date on the tour that wasn’t sold out, because only UNH students could buy tickets. I called the university and they were so tickled that I would be traveling so far that they put me on the guest list. I was near the front but not at the barrier, in part because there was a girl who kept shoving me, and I moved back to get away from her. When Green Day left the stage at the end of their set, people started to leave. I figured the boys would come back for an encore, so I moved into a spot that had opened up at the rail.

It was December 3rd, the night before their famous appearance at Madison Square Garden. I guess Billie Joe wanted to do an, uh, un-dress rehearsal for the next night, because he came out naked, and they played “She.” I was singing along like a lunatic, as usual… Billie Joe saw me — I was toward the side — and he came over to me and sang the chorus to “She” right into my face. We were screaming the words at each other. (And he was naked, though I’m not sure if that even registered with me at that moment.) The concert was held in the gym — seriously! — so the stage was tiny and the barrier was only like a foot away from the edge. I was breathless.

And then I found a backstage pass on the floor… (That story is here. And it’s not too flattering…)

I’ll prattle on about other exhilarating/embarrassing/disappointing/conflicted moments some other time… Or maybe not.

[ 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.

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