I feel like this was a bit of a trap. I was behind The American Dream is Killing Me. Why would I not be? Look Ma, No Brains!, wasn’t too special, until I found the idea of Billie asking Tré if he wanted some free tacos hilarious. Dilemma without question spoke to me and my ongoing mental issues, in that magical way only Green Day can, as if it was written specifically for me. Even if I found Billie blowing his voice out needlessly, well, needless. Then, One Eyed Bastard. I’m a one-eyed bastard! A pink and black video! Featuring an updated take on a sticker design that has been residing on the side of my media shelf for decades! I felt loved, and it was very surreal. I wondered to a friend if I was actually awake.
In terms of the rest of the tracks…there’s not much being said. What is, is ground that has already been covered, in much more compelling ways. Basket Case and King For A Day made me incredibly comfortable in stepping into my sexuality, all those years ago. For those stuck with Bobby Sox, my sincere condolences. It’s the most grating song they’ve ever made. The closing number smacks of word salad, which they will probably tell you was intentional. Please see my Mania review, for an incredibly apropos rebuttal.
I suppose what hurts the most is that there are lyrics herein that when placed beside those of quite possibly my favorite song ever, contradict them at best, and seem to indicate that Billie is saying it’s time to throw in the towel, at worst.
I’ve definitely tried, incredibly hard, to stop giving a shit, in the face of the world, as it currently sits. Because why not? Fuck it all, right?
No…I still give a shit. Deep down, at core. Even if it’s just for my own sake. My own morality. My own sanity.
It’s not too late; we’re still not underground.
Frankly, there’s a pervasive melancholy, and a repeated conceptual refrain of sitting back and letting our rapidly deteriorating world pull the trigger for us. What happened to not going gently into that good night? Doing whatever the fuck we want, for as long as we can? It’s incredibly ironic to me that it isn’t just Anthony Fantano who dislikes Father of All Motherfuckers. The title track, and the album as a whole, embodies a life-affirming, violent nihilism—the exact flavor I can get behind. Meet Me on the Roof even goads someone into putting their money where their mouth is, specifically so they’ll realize they aren’t ready to pack it in. I don’t think it’s any surprise at all that its closer, Graffitia, smacks so incredibly hard of Silent Hill.
Keep staring into the abyss; keep marching forward to find your truth.
Maybe this was a test, instead of a trap...
I Hope You Feel Better Soon, Billie. Until Then, I'll Keep All Your Previous Teachings Alive out of 5.
