FEATURE:
Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Green Day’s American Idiot at Twenty
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EVEN if it doesn’t…
turns twenty until 21st September, I wanted to celebrate an important album. Green Day’s American Idiot might be their best work. The U.S. band’s seventh studio album, it came four years after Warning. It was quite a time away for them. Although there had been compilations in the gap, this was fresh material. Something much more charged and political. The terrorist attacks of 11th September in 2001 has altered a lot of the musical landscape in terms of what was being written. The presidency of George W. Bush. It was definitely a time that inspired something angry from Green Day. Although there are depths and different shades on American Idiot, the title refers to where their thoughts were. Reacting to the politics and consumerism of the time, there was another album due after Warning. Cigarettes and Valentines had its master tapes stolen. American Idiot was a career revival and transformation. Green Day reacting to the Iraq War and the growing disillusionment in the U.S. A concept album around Jesus of Suburbia, a lower-middle-class American adolescent anti-hero. The first time Green Day included transitions between songs. Joining two tracks into one and having longer tracks. It as an ambitious album that was met with critical acclaim. There will be debate as to which Green Day album is best. Many fans like the earlier work. Dookie (1994) or even Nimrod (1997). To me and many others, American Idiot is Green Day’s crowning achievement. I want to come to an article from Alternative Press. In 2016, they argued why American Idiot is the best Green Day album:
“Many people argue that Green Day’s greatest work is their 1994 hit Dookie. It’s the record that put them on the map and hosts some of their most iconic songs, even to younger generations. (I once saw a 12-year-old get on stage during the band’s 99 Revolutions Tour and belt the entire third verse of “Longview,” a song about boredom and masturbation.) While Dookie is sonically a punk album, it was still incredibly commercial, dominating radio airwaves and MTV. It’s a solid pop-punk record that will continue to affect generations to come. However, for the most part, Dookie is pretty static. It’s a surface card at best, whereas American Idiot hosts a lyrical depth that convinced me that breaking into a classroom at 2 a.m. was a good idea. I still think it was a good idea—there’s nothing more rock ‘n’ roll than rebellion.
American Idiot was Green Day’s first album that was truly rock ‘n’ roll, a characteristic that Dookie, Insomniac, Nimrod and even Warning lack. Pulling from themes set forth by the Who’s Tommy and the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, Green Day embarked on their first rock opera concept record. It was also their first record to openly address and critique the politics of the time. This shift in sound and attitude allowed for a punk mentality told through a rock album more openly accessible to the public, a public who happened to be living in a post-9/11 era looking for a scapegoat.
People wanted to let loose from the stress of the day-to-day pressures presented in a time of mass paranoia and overwrought propaganda. A rock album with iconic, blasting riffs was a simple musical remedy that consumers could easily relate to. But it’s never been the politics in American Idiot that made it so great, though it definitely helped. In fact, there’s really only two politically charged tracks on the album: the title track and “Holiday.” That leaves 11 other movements to shape the story.
So what is this story that makes this release so substantial? It’s an outline of America during 2004. We meet the stereotypical “American idiot” trapped in a culture so invested in materialism, capitalism and war that the general public is seemingly blind to everything else. “Now everybody do the propaganda!” frontman Billie Joe Armstrong commands as if it were just another dance fad. We then meet the cliché suburban youth: the aptly named Jesus of Suburbia. During the huge five-part song of the same name, the album delivers its thesis statement: this is a coming of age story. Jesus is tired of his humdrum life and seeks adventure by moving into the city, leaving his small, safe world behind. He travels to his metropolis only to be overwhelmed by this new lifestyle (“Holiday”). He endures the hangover and wants to find himself (“Boulevard Of Broken Dreams,” “Are We The Waiting”). He discovers his many vices (“St. Jimmy,” “Give Me Novacaine”). He finds love, or infatuation depending on how you view it, (“She’s A Rebel,” “Extraordinary Girl”) before realizing who he really is and decides to bring himself home (or at least back to reality) (“Homecoming”). American Idiot is basically “SLC Punk! The Album” sans Heroin Bob.
And yet, this coming of age story we’ve heard “a million and one fucking times” resonates with listeners on a much different level than any Green Day record prior, because, unlike Dookie, it is progressive as well as timeless. American Idiot evolves in meaning and content with the listener as the listener works through his/her own life. It is relevant for the current generation, the one that consumed it in 2004 and the future listeners’ generation that will discover and grow up with the record as life carries on. Teen angst is a monumental part of maturing that is perfectly encapsulated in the first half of the record’s story through the origins of Jesus of Suburbia, but also captured sonically via the majority of the songs. As noted earlier, American Idiot fucking rocks. It hits hard and kids like their music loud, whether they understand the context or not.
In American Idiot, there’s a lyrical sophistication that Green Day taps into seldom seen in any of their other records. They take lines like “I’m not part of your elite/I’m just alright” (“Stuck With Me,” Insomniac) and turn them into “And there’s nothing wrong with me/This is how I’m supposed to be/In a land of make believe/That don’t believe in me” (“Jesus Of Suburbia”). The character St. Jimmy doesn’t just “get high high high/when he’s low low low” (“Misery,” Warning) he becomes “the needle in the vein of the establishment” and the “suicide commando that your momma talked about” (“St. Jimmy”). Problems extend past bored afternoons filled with porn and weed in the ‘90s to severe drug addiction, heartbreak, loss of self, cultural constraints and all the other bullshit today’s set society is forced to endure on a daily/weekly/monthly basis. Green Day are snarky: They’re telling the listener welcome to reality, the real American dream, the land of the free while also asking, “Is that a possibility?”
This dichotomy of resolution and reflection has always been a key factor of the record. After you get dumped and get through the Taylor Swift stage where your whole world feels like it’s crashing down, go listen to “Whatsername.” It’s the perfect summary of the numb feeling you get thinking about your ex, vaguely remembering the good times you had and the void you’ve partially filled without them. The whole song itself becomes a metaphor for looking back on what you’ve done in life and accepting the bad, taking notes of the regrets but moving on and moving forward because you have to. When Armstrong says, “This is the dawning of the rest of our lives” (on “Holiday”) he means it. Once you set forth, there is no going back to the innocence you once had. And that (though it may not seem like it) is a damn good thing”.
I will end with a couple of reviews for the fantastic American Idiot. I am keen to highlight this feature Pop Matters. They took us inside the album. Exploring the tracks. Even if Holiday is my favourite from American Idiot, one cannot deny the potency and power of the title track. So iconic and truthful. One of Green Day’s best songs. I think American Idiot still sounds relevant today. It is an album that should have made us think and change. I wonder how much we actually learned:
“Before 2004, few people would classify Green Day’s music as particularly sophisticated, intellectual, or thematically mature. Sure, “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life),” with its poignancy, fragility, and beautiful orchestration, quickly became the introspective acoustic ballad of a generation, and fun singles like “When I Come Around” and “Basket Case” were amongst the catchiest mainstream songs of their era. However, for the most part, the ’90s saw Green Day dominating the airwaves as little more than a premier punk rock group. The band emblemized a contemporary take on the rowdy counterculture retaliation of ’70s icons like the Clash. While it did an excellent job of it (don’t get me wrong), no one ever expected the trio to branch out of its preset genre limitations stylistically, conceptually, or technically.
But then came American Idiot, and everything changed. Part social commentary and part fictional narrative, the record came out of nowhere and blew everyone away with its biting political subversion, exploration of teenage angst, love, and uncertainty, and perhaps most importantly, brilliant structures, transitions, and overall cohesion. On the surface, it offered listeners a touchingly earnest and emotionally universal Bildungsroman about adolescent romance and rebellion that, combined with its multifaceted arrangements, earned it justified comparisons to the Who’s 1973 masterpiece, Quadrophenia. On a deeper level, though, it served as a scorching attack on the hypocrisy and evils of the Bush Administration (as well as the increasingly credulous and submissive nature of the American public). Combined, these achievements resulted in a wonderfully infectious, explosive, and profound work of art.
Although the album showcased astounding growth for the trio in every way, its greatest achievement was (and still is) exemplifying the truest purpose of art: to represent the struggles of the human condition and/or reflect on the injustices and illogicality of the age in which it exists. Upon its release, it received almost universal praise, with IGN arguably offering the most weighty conclusion (along with a perfect score):
“You will emerge from your experience with American Idiot physically tired, emotionally drained, and, quite possibly, changed forever. It is less an album than an experience that demands to be lived. It is a part of my life now, as well as the most satisfying hour of music I’ve ever heard. Nothing else even comes close. In short, American Idiot is flawless.”
“American Idiot”
Rather than jump right in with its story, American Idiot begins with its title track, an invigorating, catchy, and straightforward punk rock single that has almost nothing to do with the plot that follows. In a way, it acts as a bridge between the aesthetic of its predecessors and the sonic evolution that would follow. It starts with a razor-sharp chord progression that’s modest yet engrossing—naturally, bassist Mike Dirnt and drummer Tré Cool providing a great rhythmic complement too. Musically, the track doesn’t stray too far from this foundation, although some impressive syncopation and a killer guitar solo help it kick ass. No, what makes “American Idiot” so powerful and affecting are its lyrics and vocals.
As usual, singer/guitarist Billie Joe Armstrong bursts into the song with his characteristic tone and delivery, issuing his decrees with vigor and charming attitude. Cool’s isolated percussion leads the charge as Armstrong attacks the troubles of President George W. Bush’s reign, as well as the complacent and judgmental nature of Americans writ large. Every phrase, from its antagonistic opening—”Don’t wanna be an American idiot / Don’t want a nation under the new media / And can you hear the sound of hysteria / The subliminal mindfuck America”—to eventual jabs like “Well maybe I’m the faggot America / I’m not a part of a redneck agenda / Now everybody do the propaganda / And sing along to the age of paranoia”, suggests with pinpoint accuracy how hateful, impressionable, and just plain scared U.S. citizens were following the events of September 11th, 2001. People believed whatever the government and media suggested (such as the colorful “threat levels” that frightened us into limitless suspicion). As a result, they subscribed to a fear of the “Other” (as Freud would say).
Of course, the real question is, have we changed all that much since, or are we even more racist/sexist/homophobic and blindly patriotic since “American Idiot” first aimed to shatter our national security blanket? Regardless of the answer, it’s easy to see how impactful and necessary American Idiot was for its time, right from the start. The title track presented listeners with a blunt critique of the world around them, as well as a call of change, action, and self-reflection. At the same time, it stood as an exceptionally lively, dynamic, and appealing slice of punk anarchy”.
“Holiday”
Having properly set up both the social commentary and narrative construct of American Idiot with the album’s first two pieces (“American Idiot” and “Jesus of Suburbia”), Green Day chose the most logical option for the next track: fuse the two agendas into one wholly kickass amalgam. Indeed, “Holiday” is among the most overtly political songs on the record, which is probably why it was such a big hit back in 2004. Likewise, it followed up on the defiant departure of the album’s protagonist, showcasing the next chapter in his journey. A decade later, “Holiday” is still just as catchy, invigorating, and collectively powerful, igniting a rebellious fire in the soul of everyone who hears it, as well as sparking discussions about its meanings.
When we last heard from the main character (on March 3rd, according to the linear notes of the album), he was “running away from pain” and his “broken home”, so it makes sense that we now find him on holiday (vacation), traveling to wherever his destiny awaits. Specifically, it’s now April 1st, and he’s on the streets, reflecting on “the sound of falling rain / Coming down like an Armageddon flame” and declaring his independence. Other statements, such as “I beg to dream and differ / From the hall of lies / This is the dawning of the rest of our loves / This is our lives on holiday”, demonstrate this newfound enthusiasm for freedom, as well as a formal rejection of the corrupt government. Also, the fact that he uses “our” instead of “my” indicates that he’s inviting others to join him (and they do, eventually).
Interestingly, though, most of the lyrics to “Holiday” point the microscope outwardly, continuing the critical lens that “American Idiot” introduced. For example, the “Armageddon flame” signifies that he (and thus, Green Day singer Billie Joe Armstrong) is also commenting on the “War on Terror” that President Geroge W. Bush started. Essentially, Jesus is predicting that the end of the world will come from this international conflict. For example, “The ones who died without a name” likely relate to both literal casualties (soldiers and civilians alike) and, in a more figurative sense, anyone who’s fallen victim in the hysteria of political conflict. Later on, we’re told that “another protestor has crossed the line / To find the money’s on the other side”, a sentiment that illustrates how people will fight for the “right side” until they realize that perhaps everyone is in on the exploitation.
In the song’s most aggressive moment, the music forgoes most of its straightforward rock construction, allowing isolated percussion to stampede behind a punky “representative from California” as he “has the floor”. From there, he (along with backing chanters) utters bold proclamations, such as “Zieg Heil to the President Gasman / Bombs away is your punishment / Pulverize the Eiffel Towers / Who criticize your government”. Clearly, this is meant to connect the Iraq war to Nazism, as well as suggest destroying anyone who’s critical of the US. He goes on to profess, “Kill all the fags that don’t agree / Trials by fire / Setting fire / Is not a way that’s meant for me”, a statement that mocks both America’s enduring homophobia and its juvenile tendency to label anyone who disagrees with blind patriotism as a “fag” (which, in this context, means idiot, weakling, etc).
Although it’s not especially impressive musically (although it’s still very good, don’t get me wrong), “Holiday” still manages to stand out strongly due to its successful dichotomy, as it simultaneously moves the story along and further encapsulates the dense national critique that pervades underneath the surface of American Idiot. Our “hero” stands tall and free, refusing to buy into the deception and dishonor of both his hometown and country writ large. At this moment, he is content in his boldness and self-reliance, but that will change drastically once he begins traveling down the “Boulevard of Broken Dreams”.
Reaching number one in the U.K. and U.S., you can read more about American Idiot here. It won Best Rock Album at the 2005 Grammy Awards. It is considered one of the best albums of the decade ('00s). One of the best albums of all time. I would recommend people also check out this track-by-track review from Billboard. Before coming to an SLANT review of American Idiot, this is what AllMusic has to say in their review:
“It's a bit tempting to peg Green Day's sprawling, ambitious, brilliant seventh album, American Idiot, as their version of a Who album, the next logical step forward from the Kinks-inspired popcraft of their underrated 2000 effort, Warning, but things aren't quite that simple. American Idiot is an unapologetic, unabashed rock opera, a form that Pete Townshend pioneered with Tommy, but Green Day doesn't use that for a blueprint as much as they use the Who's mini-opera "A Quick One, While He's Away," whose whirlwind succession of 90-second songs isn't only emulated on two song suites here, but provides the template for the larger 13-song cycle. But the Who are only one of many inspirations on this audacious, immensely entertaining album. The story of St. Jimmy has an arc similar to Hüsker Dü's landmark punk-opera Zen Arcade, while the music has grandiose flourishes straight out of both Queen and Rocky Horror Picture Show (the '50s pastiche "Rock and Roll Girlfriend" is punk rock Meat Loaf), all tied together with a nervy urgency and a political passion reminiscent of the Clash, or all the anti-Reagan American hardcore bands of the '80s. These are just the clearest touchstones for American Idiot, but reducing the album to its influences gives the inaccurate impression that this is no more than a patchwork quilt of familiar sounds, when it's an idiosyncratic, visionary work in its own right. First of all, part of Green Day's appeal is how they have personalized the sounds of the past, making time-honored guitar rock traditions seem fresh, even vital. With their first albums, they styled themselves after first-generation punk they were too young to hear firsthand, and as their career progressed, the group not only synthesized these influences into something distinctive, but chief songwriter Billie Joe Armstrong turned into a muscular, versatile songwriter in his own right.
Warning illustrated their growing musical acumen quite impressively, but here, the music isn't only tougher, it's fluid and, better still, it fuels the anger, disillusionment, heartbreak, frustration, and scathing wit at the core of American Idiot. And one of the truly startling things about American Idiot is how the increased musicality of the band is matched by Armstrong's incisive, cutting lyrics, which effectively convey the paranoia and fear of living in American in days after 9/11, but also veer into moving, intimate small-scale character sketches. There's a lot to absorb here, and cynics might dismiss it after one listen as a bit of a mess when it's really a rich, multi-faceted work, one that is bracing upon the first spin and grows in stature and becomes more addictive with each repeated play. Like all great concept albums, American Idiot works on several different levels. It can be taken as a collection of great songs -- songs that are as visceral or as poignant as Green Day at their best, songs that resonate outside of the larger canvas of the story, as the fiery anti-Dubya title anthem proves -- but these songs have a different, more lasting impact when taken as a whole. While its breakneck, freewheeling musicality has many inspirations, there really aren't many records like American Idiot (bizarrely enough, the Fiery Furnaces' Blueberry Boat is one of the closest, at least on a sonic level, largely because both groups draw deeply from the kaleidoscopic "A Quick One"). In its musical muscle and sweeping, politically charged narrative, it's something of a masterpiece, and one of the few -- if not the only -- records of 2004 to convey what it feels like to live in the strange, bewildering America of the early 2000s”.
I am going to end with a review from SLANT. They noted how a band seen as slackers on previous work – who perhaps were not likely to be political or rally for change – had really changed things up and were now calling for action. An amazing transformation from Green Day. American Idiot still resounds and reverberates to this day:
“Of all the negative effects the Bush administration has had on the world (and unless you’ve had your head buried in the sand, then you know that there are many), the most unlikely bit of collateral damage has to be the return of the rock opera. Dissent has always been a fundamental tenet of punk rock, so it comes as no surprise that the forefathers of popular punk would take a stab at the not-quite-popular-enough sport of Bush-bashing. But an all-out punk musical? With American Idiot, their first studio album in four years, Green Day have resurrected the rock opera medium, and not only have they succeeded, they’ve managed to create a musical-political document that should remain relevant for years to come (possibly even longer if Bush actually gets elected this time).
The story begins on Presidents Day and follows two main characters, Jesus of Suburbia and St. Jimmy, who may or may not be the same person but who both stand on the same side of the political fence, with varying degrees of rage. Ultimately the narrative, which feels flimsy at times and ends with too many loose ends (perhaps the inevitable film or stage production will fill in the blanks), seems less important than Billy Joe Armstrong’s own story. “Maybe I am the faggot, America/I’m not part of a redneck agenda,” he sings on the title track. Billy Joe knows he (Jesus) is pretty much alone in his crusade (“Where have all the riots gone?” he begs in “Letterbomb”), but that doesn’t stop him from attacking both sides with equal vehemence on “Holiday,” one of American Idiot’s most potent tracks: “Another protester has crossed the line/To find the money’s on the other side,” and then, my personal favorite, “Zieg heil to the President Gasman!”
In the tradition of The Who and Pink Floyd, American Idiot is a pompous, overwrought, and, quite simply, glorious concept album. While it may be long on narrative and character skteches (Jesus’s muse is a girl named Whatsername, “the mother of all bombs”), it’s certainly not short on hooks. The guitars are stacked, the drums are big, and the message is crystal clear. There are hints of the more adult-skewed pop-punk of Green Day’s last album, 2000’s underappreciated Warning, on the power ballad “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” and “Wake Me Up Before September,” a lament for Billy Joe’s late father, but American Idiot finds the band exploring new ground, drawing not only on classic Clash riffs but, yes, Broadway musicals for a few multi-part, key-shifting epics. In their attempt to reinvigorate themselves as a band (creatively and commercially), Green Day have managed to accomplish what record companies have failed to do with so many useless tacked-on DVDs and net portals to “exclusive” material: they’ve produced an album you’ll want to own, Kazaa be damned.
The cheeky press notes for the album, set sometime in the future, boldly declares that American Idiot is “the album that started a whole cult of people clutching their hand grenade hearts” and that it’s “neck and neck with Sgt. Pepper as the greatest album of all time.” That remains to be seen, but for a band who burst onto the scene 10 years ago with a record called Dookie, the boys of Green Day, now in their 30s, sure have come a long way. They are, in fact, the real Nirvana, their influence more widely felt than any other American band from the ’90s (sorry, Kurt). Ironically, it seems the slackers of yesterday—the ones who were bored of masturbation, smoking their inspiration, and disenfranchised by the politics of Reagan and Bush Sr.—are now the ones rallying for political change, and hopefully their influence will reach a little bit farther than Sum 41 and Good Charlotte come this November”.
On 21st September, American Idiot turns twenty. American Idiot was planned as a film. However, plans were scrapped. It is a shame. However, it did take on a new life as a stage musical. That premiered in 2009. A documentary, Heart Like a Hand Grenade, was released in 2015 film. It featured Green Day during the recording of American Idiot. Directed by John Roecker and filmed over the process of fifteen months between 2003 and 2004. An inflammatory and essential album, it arrived at a time with so much tension and disenfranchisement. I wonder, twenty years later, whether people…
HAVE truly wised up?