When people claim an album is “important” in a societal way, they’re probably full of crap. That’s not to say said album doesn’t resonate with them on a personal level, but there are very few truly meaningful albums. Green Day’s American Idiot is one of the exceptions. Over the course of a punk rock opera, complete with detailed characters and storyline, the band critique of everything wrong with American society including apathy, drugs, depression, war, and a slew of other topics. It is a stunningly accurate portrait of modern America and one hell of a musical journey.
From the opening fulmination of chords on the title track “American Idiot,” Green Day is synced into full on attack mode. The song is actually the weakest track on the album, but is still important as a scene setter. It’s like the band is throwing buckets of paint onto the canvas in order to have a distinct background on which to later paint fine detail.
These details vividly begin to appear on “Jesus Of Suburbia.” The song is one of two 9 minute plus, 5 act operatic pieces on the album. The track introduces the album’s main character, Jesus of Suburbia. “The song of rage and love,” he’s a slacking ; the spitting image of confused modern angst. His life has no direction, he has no faith (“No one ever died for my sins in hell, as far as I can tell, at least the ones I got away with”), and feels complete alienation. The music cycles from huge arena rock, to downstoke punk, to a soft bell highlighted bounce, to chaotic breakdown. “Jesus of Suburbia” illustrates how simple yet universal Billy Joe Armstrong’s lyrics are on the entirety of American Idiot.
The albums shifts back to a bit more traditional song structures with “Holiday,” which combines an irresistibly catchy rhythm guitar riff with lyrics target the arrogance of the American political machine. Protest songs aren’t normally known for insanely good melody, but “Holiday” bucks that trend. Even when Mike Dirnt drops the bass line to allow Billy Joe Armstrong to go on a venomous rant, it’s hard not to bob your head or tap your foot along with the beat.
The delay dominated “Boulevard Of Broken Dreams” encapsulates the loneliness and despair of the broken American dream. It’s the reality of those who are not getting the breaks, of those living in reality and not some fantasy. It’s like the twisted joke of The Comedian, and apparently Green Day are in on it.
But even in the bleakest times there is a sliver of hope. “Are We The Waiting” is American Idiot‘s moment of optimism. The track has a huge sound with Tré Cool providing thundering drums and layer upon layer of group vocals that sound like a choir of thousands singing with one heart. It feels like the voices are uniting all those, from coast to coast, who wish for better times.
The moment of connectivity gets suddenly and violently jarred by the arrival of St. Jimmy on bi-polar snap of no holds barred punk rock appropriately (though unoriginally) titled “St. Jimmy.” He is not a separate character, but instead the fierce take no prisoners punk part of Jesus of Suburbia and takes on a life of his own. St. Jimmy is the counterbalance that the protagonist needs. He’s all about passion, actions, anger, which is in stark contrast to the dreaming, detached, and timid state that is Jesus of Suburbia at his core.
The introduction of St. Jimmy has Jesus of Suburbia reeling with a “bittersweet migraine in my head,” so he’s forced to look for chemical relief. “Give Me Novacaine” finds him floating in drug induced bliss for the verses and in painful reality in the chorus. The parallel scoring is just amazing. It’s a commentary on the substance reliance that America has come to accept; people numbing away their problems instead of dealing with them.
Just when reality seems to be drifting away from the protagonist, he gets a jolt of love and infatuation. Over the course of Ramones-eque base punk of “She’s A Rebel” and the eclectic, almost Middle Eastern, sound of “Extraordinary Girl,” Jesus of Suburbia meets and falls head over heals for a lonely girl called Whatshername. She becomes all that seems to matter in life, but lacks courage to act on his feelings. His apathetic nature turns to a slightly more active timidness, but still nothing comes of his longings. St. Jimmy grows sick of Jesus of Suburbia’s whining inaction and the full throttle rock of “Letterbomb” marks the rage filled end of his complacency. It’s the tipping point where everything begins to spiral downward; the beginning of the end
Before everything goes to hell, things are calmed down with “Wake Me Up When September Ends.” According to Armstrong the song is not meant to be part of the story (it’s actually about his father passing away), but there’s no doubt that it feels essential. The song is pure power ballad of personal tragedy, that can resonate with anyone whose lost a loved one.
While every track on the album is great, “Homecoming,” the second of the operatic tracks, is the standout. It’s flawless. The opening chords feel forcefully slung out over defeatist lyrics, with Jesus of Suburbia waiting in vain for Whatshername to return his calls and come home. Eventually this leads to a militaristic march of a beat and it’s not long before St. Jimmy kills himself because he’s sick of all the bullshit and shamefulness around him. For the rest of the song Jesus of Suburbia is left trying to pick up the pieces after having a part of himself literally die. He’s heartbroken at losing St. Jimmy and Whatshername and starts to become self-reflective. The realization of the monotony he’s trapped in leads him to scream “get me out of here!” repeatedly.
When the bells begin to peal in the 3rd act (Nobody Likes You!) supreme alienation with the entire planet has set in. The drumrolls feel like a firing squad, and since Jesus of Suburbia has nothing better to do than fall “asleep while watching Spike TV,” he probably hopes it is. This little slice of the song is so anthemic and lyrically astute it’s almost frightening. “Nobody likes you, everyone left you, they’re all off without you, having fun.” To make sure nothing is complacent, the next act is a piano and saxophone driven burst of the dream rock ‘n roll life that escapes the hero’s grasp. The final act’s burst of rock and hopelessness wraps up the story arc without forcing it in the least.
The album culmination with “Whatshername,” a devastatingly sad hymn of lost love, remorse, and the mortality. It essentially is Jesus of Suburbia reflecting years later on his experience with Whatshername. He may have burned photographs but can’t forget memories and bitterly tries to convince himself that the pain isn’t there. In the end he settles “forgetting you [Whatshername] but not the time.” If anyone can listen to this song and not feel even a hint soul wrenching sorrow, well, they are inhumane.
American Idiot is a modern classic. It is an album in truest sense. The songs aren’t meant to be shuffled or taken on their own; they’re incomplete when separate. It’s the definitive album of our era. It’s important. It means something.
Review Score: 9.9
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