American Idiot by Green Day
Reviewed by 'Record Label'
As I lay here dying in my hospital bed from terminal cancer,
I am flooded by memories I had back in the year 2004. It was the time
I was asked to document Green Day in the studio for a proposed documentary
on the making of their album American Idiot. Of course the record is
now regarded as one of the greatest albums of all time, an artistic
leap, musically ambitious, always neck and neck with Sgt. Pepper as
the greatest album of all time, etc. But no one realizes the risk it
was to overtake this project. Things were different back then and today
when I am on talk shows, all they ask me are the same general questions.
"What was it like to be there?" "Did everyone get along?"
"What did you eat?" And "Would you please stop trying
to fondle me?" And I respond with the same answers. "It was
an amazing experience being with three genius'," "Yes, everyone
got along and there was a lot of laughter and farting," "Lunch
and dinner consisted of the now controversial Zone/Atkins diet"
and "Sorry, I thought that was my pocket."
The memories gush out of me as does my bedpan, so I am going to write
this quick before the nurse comes by and scolds me for eating corn (I
am on a strict no starch diet). Times were different then. A cruel and
harsh King ruled us and the artistic community was scared to voice any
opinion that would oppose the mighty King. Green Day, as I recall, loved
the challenge and set out to make the greatest record of their career
without the slightest bit of hesitation or compromise. The King of course,
would be upset, but we would send him a promo copy regardless. American
Idiot, as you now know, is more than a concept record, more than a rock
opera and its more than 60 minutes long. The band that made the
perfect 3-minute song was now writing the perfect 9-minute song. I am,
of course, talking about the song Jesus Of Suburbia, the
first opera on the album and the most perfectly structured song ever
recorded. As they carry my dead body out of the church, this is the
song I requested to be played (that is, if I have enough money to pay
Warners Bros. for performance rights). But I am getting ahead
of myself here; my body will just have to wait until it can curl up
in a coffin. This story has to be told!
The recording of the album started on Presidents Day and as soon
as the band started to record the first song a fire broke out. Was God
himself so jealous of these mere mortals making the greatest music ever
recorded that he had to smite them? Or was it just a short in the amp?
We will never know! But one thing we do know, the boys continued their
artistic journey and composed an album that will live throughout the
ages.
I vaguely recall that Rob Cavallo was there, longtime producer and part
time mime. Always quick to do his I AM TRAPPED IN A BOX AND I
AM NOW SUFFOCATING routine that always broke us up, especially
after we realized that it was in fact a real box that he was using and
he was indeed suffocating! It seemed that Rob was better equipped for
producing than the art of mime, which worked out better in the long
run. Now where was I? Oh yes, after fires, floods and Billie Joes
cat bout with diabetes, the boys recorded song after song that are now
classic hits and staples on the airwaves. Do I really need to remind
you what you were doing when you first heard On Holiday?
Or whom you were smooching when Whats Her Name came
on the radio? These are more than songs, these are beautiful memories
and my memories of watching them construct this album are as vivid and
fresh as the day I was there (of course watching the documentary also
helps). Okay! Okay! Stop groveling, I will continue the story but I
will not answer the questions of who St. Jimmy is or who Jesus of Suburbia
is, or any of that. The answers to the story are on the record and are
you that lazy that you cannot figure it out yourself?
This was the album that brought back the days when you could read the
lyrics and sit in your room and sing and follow along. The album that
started a whole cult of people clutching their hand grenade hearts and
the generation that identified with the characters in the album (you
dont believe me that the impact of this album is still strong
today? As a matter of fact, when I was rushed into this hospital or
the Death House as us patients so lovingly dubbed it, I saw on the sidewalk
the spray painted album cover the vigilante fans painted years ago!).
Because the album was written from the heart and is deeply personal
and moving, we could all identify with it. September Song
has a deep meaning for me, as I am sure it did when Billie Joe wrote
it. But as a skilled writer, he made the interpretation open so everyone
could identify with the song. Every song on the album has its place
and belongs there. It is indeed an album. Not a bunch of songs that
are haphazardly thrown together, but songs that are sewn perfectly together,
making an album that is truly brilliant from start to finish. And if
you must refer to this record as a concept album, then it is a concept
that was missing and much needed. This was an album that took people
by surprise and took Green Day's contemporaries by surprise. There were
many more Green Day records to come-all great, all different, but American
Idiot truly expresses the moment of the band at that time. It was a
time that will always be in time. Not even bass player, Mike Dirnts
ill-fated business venture of self-service massage parlors could tarnish
the reputation of this great band and its work. I am honored that I
was asked to enter the band's inner sanctums for just that little bit
of time. It was an amazing process to witness and document and I feel
truly honored. I cannot express in words how I felt watching the band
write, construct, record and then polish these gems. Amazing to see
the birth of true art. Seeing Letter Bomb come from nothing
and then hatch into this godhead masterpiece still makes the grey hair
on my arms stand up (and unfortunately, my varicose veins also). I am
glad I was there and I would do anything if I could go back. But I will
always have this album to keep me and my bedpan happy. Is it ironic
that when I listen to the song Novocain my body is being
filled intravenously with pamadhyde? No it isnt ironic just a
fact. But looking back, the album made me inspired again, as it did
for millions of others and if I am just remembered as the person with
the camera that got in the way during the recording process, so be it
(but also dont forget, in my prime I once sported 6 pack abs!
Which now unfortunately resemble cottage cheese). But I am getting off
the subject, my memories are now overflowing. How could I forget watching
the great Tre Cool drum his drum or when I was rushed to the hospital
when a drumstick was hurled in the air knocking me unconscious? Or my
beloved Mike Dirnt, bass player extraordinaire, playing that funny looking
guitar with only four strings. And that girlish figure of his, always
bragging how he could squeeze into ladies Dickies. And Mister Billie
Joe Armstrong, what comes out of that boys brain still mystifies
me. When I look back at those times, I sometimes felt like they were
my kids but glad they werent because I would be in jail for child
molestation. After all these years I still worship those boys and not
even the most powerful restraining order can stop that (got that Pat!)!
American Idiot makes you proud of who you are and where you are from.
Sure, I know when the album came out that people from around the world
were jealous they couldnt be American Idiots but they can be their
own special idiots. Great Britain Idiot...Japanese Idiots etc. We dont
discriminate; there are no borders in art (note to selfdelete
that line before my passing). Nothing rocks or moves as well as this
record does. Disagree? Then step outside buddy.
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