Location: Trieste / Piazza Unita d’Italia / Italy
Date: Saturday, May 25, 2013
Is there really such a thing as eternity and lasting staying power at the very top of the hellish trinity of sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll? There have been too many stories of burning out, sinking, and the final disintegration of whatever little inspiration was left. Someone can be chosen, picked by the gods or demons, to pull off one song or one album, but only a few keep their substance and defy the teeth of time. Fine, I’m not about to reach for legends of Lemmy’s caliber or the Ramones and the like. For an example of endurance and stubbornness, above all of grind, and a pinch of lucky coincidence too, we can take the East Bay boys, the California trio Green Day. These feverish super rock stars, whom some call “the most important act in punk rock in the world,” are back after four years. That’s how long it’s been since they last conquered the Apennine Peninsula. The main “culprits” for the punk rock revival, after the return and sobering up of frontman Billy Joe Armstrong, have set out on their megalomaniacal conquest of the world with something new and unheard.
Honestly, whenever this band comes up I get mixed feelings. Nostalgia and memories of early youth get piled into the same heap. After the phenomenal record Dookie came a series of small missteps, after which I stopped following the band closely. On top of that comes a big dose of the unfamiliar yet so damn similar, nicely cosmetically polished material that keeps its line of naivety so it sells even better. Green Day are masters of selling, too. After eight well-received albums they successfully started conquering Broadway with an adaptation of the record American Idiot, and last year came the crowning move: the release of not a double but a full-on triple album, a separate trilogy called İUno! İDos! İTre! A hefty pile of songs, though only a few got me listening, I have to admit. But with the announcement of a European conquest, the 99 Revolutions tour, curiosity and an unanswered question, “Do the boys still have the strength, and can they still do it?”, made a show in the Trieste area mandatory.
The road there led us through the narrow streets on the outskirts of a once-Slovenian city. Breathtaking near-misses with vehemently tempered Italian masters of road slalom ended happily, with the Rockline cavalry parking its steel carriage right by the sea. After paying a pretty salty parking fee, we headed for the gates to check the first vibe among the impatient crowd at the event on Trieste’s central square, Piazza Unita d’Italia. Leaden, gray clouds over the old city center didn’t promise anything good, but even so the entrance to the main square was already teeming with a crowd that wanted to watch the spectacle of the American legends from the front lines. Not even the thick raindrops drove them away, trickling down their bodies on a cold May afternoon and soaking even the last bits of obligatory gig wardrobe adorned with the name of the beloved trio. After six the gates opened, and a many-thousand-headed crowd of cheerful kids, teenagers, and aging old-timers began pushing against the well-organized and, surprisingly, very calm and friendly security staff. After a relatively short fight for survival and a quick entry onto the hallowed gig ground, we stepped onto the main square too. Impressive Art Nouveau architecture and mighty buildings framed the generous space where ten thousand people could easily be squeezed in. In the background the Adriatic Sea beat against the shore, and a cold drizzle fell from the heavy clouds. One look at the mighty steel structure of the main stage made it clear that despite the bad weather the show was going ahead. Otherwise the frozen crowd would have had every argument for revolt and destruction of Trieste’s old center.
The support act, which wasn’t even properly announced and whose catastrophic sound promised nothing good, deserves no more than a mention. A mix of old-timey music that you’d pin on the likes of Buldogi or Pankrti, it was a cold appetizer for a crowd hungry for spectacle, and a little before nine it kicked off! First came the stage acrobatics of a lighting tech who climbed a steel ladder up to the stage ceiling to fix the last few spotlights. Then the crowd chimed in on the evergreen sound of Queen and their brilliant creation Bohemian Rapsody, and then the party could begin. With the arrival of a giant pink bunny on stage the crowd finally wakes up and more or less in tune sings the Ramones standard Blitzkrieg Bop. “Hey Ho! Let’s go!” thunders impressively from the throats of the five-thousand-headed crowd, and the big bunny tries to push everyone into total ecstasy with an enormous gun firing strange projectiles, which jams at just the right moment. After the intro the lights dim, and everyone’s attention is stolen by the arrival of Green Day’s stage soldiery. Explosive mini-destroyer Tre Cool sits behind the drums, and on the left side steps the concert-tested but this time officially new blood of the band, guitarist Jason White. He’s accompanied by a roar of applause and by the bass-armed Gulliver in the land of the Lilliputians, the imposing Mike Dirnt. The rhythm and chords of 99 Revolutions are already roaring from the speakers, and last, just before the first verse, the evening’s main prima donna rushes onto the stage: the exceptional showman Billie Joe Armstrong. The raised middle finger to all the corporate pricks and bitches who wrecked the financial sector is this time disguised as a bouncy pop punk standard. “There’s a trouble in the air / A rumble in the streets / A going out of business sale / And a race to bankruptcy / It’s not one to 99, it’s 99 to one / A common cause and a call to arms / For the health of our daughters and our sons / It’s 99 revolutions tonight / 99 revolutions tonight / 99 revolutions tonight / 99 revolutions tonight!” sings Mr. Armstrong, and as he skillfully wins over the hearts of the crowd in one go, the carefully planned game of drowning out the sounds of the city begins too. The initially somewhat reserved audience barely squeezes out its “Hey Ho!” at Billy’s command, but nothing more could fairly be expected from a frozen, impatient mass of people. So Green Day shift everything up a gear. Time to get to know the enemies: Know Your Enemy. The song from the excellent second-to-last album 21st Century Breakdown obviously has enough support for the concert dance to start at full steam. The onstage chemistry between the new and old members is perfect! Tre Cool dominates the platform behind his drums, while a cheerful Mike flirts with the crowd with his own particular edge. The central magnet of the masses is still Billy, barely a bit over five feet tall, whom the audience in Trieste’s old center immediately took as their own. The orator of direct criticism of social injustice and revolt gives himself over to the rhythm of the song with energy, trying to completely enchant everyone present from behind the mic. Instant criticism, instant dose of sweetness and noise, instant success? Almost, but that will take more than the novelties from the brave but by no means sturdiest part of the discography, like the last three little records. Who knows, maybe this time the clearance sale works too, as during Stay The Night the lion’s share of the multinational audience obediently surges. To the sounds of the singalongs, milk-toothed brats and well-sauced, seasoned gig veterans and old-timers find themselves on the same side of the front. The tactical insert of a modern-day imperative, Stop When The Red Lights Flash, proves sensible, and the four-headed concert machine of spectacle and tightness convincingly sings: “I’ll make you surender!” as if there were no doubt about success. Personally, the new pile of rhythms and lyrics doesn’t convince me all that much, I think, but Green Day, despite the possible misgivings of fans of the older oomph, continue down their own path. It’s a path of fun and carefree attitude. It’s a path of a seemingly naive but still penetrating blend of pop, rock, and punk.
The first more serious step toward the hits was an excursion to the diamond-studded record American Idiot, which many rate even higher than the prehistoric Dookie. Billy throws off his skull-adorned jacket and braves the cold in nothing but a striped sailor shirt. Sweat steams off him, and Green Day serve up another jab to the chops of the skeptics and critics who’d dare to call them a musical chapter of short breath and short energy! The only thing anyone really needed in this sea of raised cameras and phones is a screen wall, since in the crowd, I believe, you couldn’t see anything concrete from the back rows. But the band isn’t letting up the pace. The opening bars of Oh Love from last year’s record Uno! prove to be the real deal. The crowd erupts, and the slightly slowed-down stomper, with its layered planes of melodic pomp and suspenseful guitars, is crowned by the first proper solo. Billy wrings out his glitter-bedecked Les Paul, and then Holiday thunders even better. A loud uprising against senseless wars in the name of capital and the prosperity of just a handful of self-proclaimed despots of the world makes sense from start to finish. “Zieg Heil to the president Gasman / Bombs away is your punishment / Pulverize the Eiffel towers / Who criticize your government / Bang, bang goes the broken glass and / Kill all the fags that don’t agree / Trials by fire, setting fire / It’s not a way that’s meant for me / Just cause, just cause, because we’re outlaws, yeah / I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies / This is the dawning of the rest of our lives / I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies / This is the dawning of the rest of our lives / This is our lives on holiday!” is a string of words that Green Day serve up sweet and still timely. The guitars stop, leaving only the drums and bass bare, and the first would-be flyer steps from the crowd onto the stage, sings a couple of verses with Billy, and then brutally confidently thunders off the stage into the front lines. The first landing is behind us, so will the show, despite the considerable distance between the stage and the fans in the front rows, even deliver self-destructive stage diving acrobatics?
A bit of a cold shower, as if the raindrops weren’t enough, comes from an interesting old-fashioned poppy projectile, Stray Heart. In the manner of a cross between Lust For Life with a sweeter glaze and the MTV generation, it serves a bit too much sugar in the style of: “Everything that I want, I want from you / But I just can’t have you / Everything that I need, I need from you / But I just can’t have you …” And Billy squeezes oomph even out of too-sweet rotten oranges and drives away all evil thoughts with his playfulness, seeming carefreeness, and punchy directness. The rest of the stage quartet doesn’t lag an inch behind, and the fifth member of the band is, once again, a completely won-over crowd, which confidently joins in on the songs with its stuffy, cold-ridden voices. Cathartic, I think, but still something’s missing … Not even the exceptionally polished Boulevard Of Broken Dreams drives that away. It has all the aces of a quality rock ballad, and after successfully dominating the airwaves it planted a potent seed on both the Italian and Slovenian sides of the border. Neither does Nuclear Family, professing the alienation of all the old values. My heart only jumps when Billy takes off the glittery Les Paul, straps on a good old Stratocaster, and asks if there are any fans of the old records that marked the nineties among us? Hell yeah! Time for an accelerated heartbeat and something that even an old fart of my caliber can get into! The first shot of good old oomph was under the banner of the first real success, the album Dookie. Burnout latches onto this cold evening like something badly needed, like a dose of adrenaline in the heart that makes the release of the amphetamines of happiness fuller. An exceptional meeting of solid guitars, bass, and drums and an explosive stage performance drive the train of pleasure confidently onward. The Nimrod-era hit Hitchin’ A Ride says that even in times of grayness and temporary crisis Green Day had enough oomph to conquer and penetrate the hearts and minds of a willing audience. And Kerplunk wouldn’t be such a nice memory of early youth if the song of unrequited love 2000 Light Years Away hadn’t been heard in full. I think of something punchier still, and into the whole creeps the first rowdy insert, which Green Day borrow from the kings of boogie rock, AC/DC. Highway To Hell doesn’t sound forced or stale in the least, and right after it comes time for a dose of fried brains and sleeplessness. Brain Stew! A superb suspense of guitars and bass is followed by the gradual switching on of all the valves, and Green Day routinely steer the whole setlist in the direction they want. In this mix there’s room for little flubs, but above all for generous doses of singalongs and “Ole! Ole! Ole!” chants, and there’s even time to play with stage props, which the main players use to let off steam. Among other things they shoot several rolls of toilet paper into the crowd, spray the front lines with jets of water as well as shower them with stage gifts, and even residents of the houses along the main square get their share of attention with three-ply projectiles! Anything goes! There are no bans!
After St. Jimmy comes time for a gradual build-up and the real peaks of the evening! Longview lures out a second flyer, who runs onto the stage, kisses Billy on the lips, and confidently sings a couple of verses, then after some hesitation takes off among the people. Green Day know how to lead you if not to heaven then at least to the purgatory of concert satisfaction, and Basket Case proves that everyone present has not only the time but also an enormous desire for nostalgic outpourings of world-weariness and humorous cynicism. What could crown and complete it all?
Maybe the ancient She? It sneaks in like a ghost of the past and gives the whole thing even more value. Green Day reach for another costume change when Jason Freese, saxophone slung over his shoulder, comes on stage along with the bunny from the opening of the show, and the crowd gets a ska song from the album Nimrod. King For A Day brought an extremely fun moment of farewell to a stage where there were precious few aces left up their sleeves. After a fresh dose of covers and homage moments to giants of the past, the Rolling Stones and the Beatles with (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction and Hey Jude, it turns out that Green Day can squeeze out even more juice and fertility after more than two hours. The newer X Kid is dedicated to all the stubborn eternal teenagers, and with verses “Hey, little kid / did you wake up late one day? / You’re not so young, but you’re still dumb / and you’re numb to your old glory, / but now it’s gone. / I fell in love, / but it didn’t catch your fall. / Then I crashed to a wall / and I fell to pieces on the floor. / Now you’re sick to death. / Bombs away! / Here goes nothing, the shining’s over. / Hey X-Kid, bombs away! / Here goes nothing, the shining’s over and out, / over and out again!” a lot of forty-somethings with a twenty-year-old’s heart can identify. If anyone knows that best, it’s Billy and his soldiery of stage fighters! After Minority comes time to say goodbye, but despite the rain and cold the crowd demands a sweet encore. With chanting and “Ole! Ole! Ole!” cries, the cheerful guys from the band that revived Trieste and united youngsters, both boys and girls, and those young at heart into one whole join in too. American Idiot gets an upgrade with Jesus Of Suburbia, which shouldn’t be missing from the setlist, and after the fragile little farewell song Brutal Love, the goodbye to the audience’s darlings is final this time.
I can hardly believe that the end of May, despite the Calvary-like weather, could turn into something magical and one-of-a-kind. With frozen bones but a satisfied heart, I sank into the car more easily and decided on a gradual return through the tight streets, dominated by cops and concert caravans of happy attendees of this very special show, to the Slovenian side of the border. There were no disappointments. Green Day proved their primacy as a well-oiled concert machine that can conquer on records and small screens alike, but what they do best is the grind on stage, and in this musical all-around contest they impress again and again! More than 18 years have passed since the Ljubljana show, I think. In that time I’ve aged and started going gray, yet I’ve kept a part of my heart reserved for something good, sweet, and naive. That part of my heart stayed young despite all the worries, and after the visit to Trieste the blood got warmer, the thoughts lighter, and the heart younger by at least a decade if not more. This time all the thanks go to a band that, besides colorful hairdos and stereotypical wardrobe, can present to the world something not everyone can: the genius of those three just-right chords and juicy lyrics that, besides sweetness and apparent lightness, hide something more. And that extra value, my dear ones, is worth coming back for, years be damned!
author: Sandi Sadar Šoba
photos: Nina Ferkolj
Setlist:
1. Intro (Blitzkrieg Bop – Ramones)
2. 99 Revolutions
3. Know Your Enemy
4. Stay The Night
5. Stop When The Red Lights Flash
6. Letterbomb
7. Oh Love
8. Holiday
9. Stray Heart
10. Boulevard Of Broken Dreams
11. Nuclear Family
12. Burnout
13. Hitchin’ a Ride
14. 2000 Light Years Away
15. Brain Stew
16. St. Jimmy
17. Longview
18. Basket Case
19. She
20. King For A Day
21. (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction / Hey Jude
22. X-Kid
23. Minority
—encore—
24. American Idiot
25. Jesus Of Suburbia
26. Brutal Love
