GREEN DAY // Gradual Reform Radio

GREEN DAY with The Interrupters – Qudos Bank Arena, Sydney – Friday, April 10th 2017

There’s something distinctly un-punk about a band screaming half-assed political mantras from an arena stage decked out with kilometre-wide banners and enough synchronised pyrotechnics to have been directed by Michael Bay. But if any band is going to pull it off without embarrassing themselves, it’s the one whose career started off with such prestigious album titles as Dookie and Kerplunk.

To enjoy a Green Day show in 2017, it helps a lot if you can suspend your disbelief. We’ll compare it to The Avengers – much like how superheroes don’t exist in real life, neither do punk bands that sell international arenas out over a decade past their prime. Yet, here we are: The Avengers save the world from Loki, and Green Day take the stage at Sydney’s Qudos Bank Arena before 15,000 screaming fans spanning three whole generations.

But before they do, we’re treated to a 30-minute set from Californian ska crew The Interrupters. Perhaps “treated” isn’t the right word, though, because having to sit through their cloying, monotonous mess of a set feels more like being punched in the mouth than handed a cookie. Their sound is wholly unoriginal, channeling weak cues from Operation Ivy and Rancid without any of the integrity those bands held. Their stage antics and performative schtick  almost make up for the lack of musical talent, but when we start to think of how many other bands there are with the same eye for aesthetic and some quality tunes, it’s hard to find that a consolation prize.

The Interrupters by Sandra Markovic

In reality, Green Day don’t even need an opening act: fans have been counting down the seconds ’til their curtain call weeks in advance, and when the lights finally dim and Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody whips around through the room, all that pent up energy materialises into a scream so powerful, it’s in a decibel note only those under the age of 13 can bear to experience. And when the trademark Drunk Bunny (basically, drummer Tré Cool being a furry) darts onstage to hype us up with Blitzkrieg Bop, those screams only get louder. Green Day make their debut to a showering of lasers as the driving beat to Know Your Enemy washes us over – it’s before the first chorus even kicks in that a riotous mosh splits in the middle of the dancefloor.

Fluffy Bunny by Sandra Markovic

Such is the power of Bille Joe Armstrong. The frontman turned 45 this year, but despite decades of mental touring, two sons and a storied history of drug abuse, Armstrong still carries himself with the red-blooded fortitude of someone no older than 25. When he isn’t darting around the stage like an athlete on speed or leaping from the drum riser like an emo kangaroo, he’s perched behind a mic at the end of a catwalk sprawling far into the crowd, soaking in the bask of a clown white spotlight while a bustle of hands flutter perilously below him. His penchant for getting punters involved is part of what makes seeing Green Day live so special; at any given moment, you can expect Armstrong to wield a comically oversized hose or t-shirt blaster, incite an inescapable “way-oh” chant or make a fan’s dream come true by dragging them onstage.

In just a shred over two hours, Armstrong plucks four lucky fans onto his platform – two to sling the mic on their favourite singalong scorchers, one to play the guitar on a cover of Operation Ivy’s Knowledge, and one to play the tambourine (because they only realised once they were onstage that they didn’t actually know how to play Knowledge). It may transcend the realms of tackiness as far as stage gimmicks go, but watching someone euphorically lose their shit afront a packed crowd in the five digits is always an enrapturing sight, and we’re glad it’s still a thing Green Day put such an emphasis on this far into their career.

Such is the power of Bille Joe Armstrong. The frontman turned 45 this year, but despite decades of mental touring, two sons and a storied history of drug abuse, Armstrong still carries himself with the red-blooded fortitude of someone no older than 25.

Having less of an everlasting impact on the band’s current live show is their slowly weakening political edge. Angered decries of racism, sexism and homophobia are scattered throughout the set, but such chants are few and far, nestled under bouts of, “I don’t like Donald Trump!” that only echo the bare minimum of political awareness rather than break any new ground. There’s no mention that Trump is on the verge of triggering a third World War – that his policies are killing queer kids or that he’s almost solely responsible for a rise in socially accepted ‘Nazism’ – only that he’s… bad? In general? C’mon, Billie! Do better. Be angrier. Be real.

Billie Joe Armstrong – Green Day by Sandra Markovic

Thankfully, that seems to be the only element compromised in a modern Green Day show – everything else is so excessively grandiose and theatrical, like a visual sugar rush soundtracked by the hits of noughties teendom. Pyro coughs from every angle and at every cue, even slower tunes being treated to the occasional wallop of synchronised fireballs. Hundred-metre banners drop to reveal more hundred-metre banners underneath them. Towards the end of the set, the band fully indulge their soft spot for ska with a costume driven run-through of “King For A Day”, complete with an extra five-minute saxophone solo from stage backup Jason Freese. Thus powers the band into a cover medley ticking off all the hardcore punk classics: Hey Jude (The Beatles), Shout (Isley Brothers), Satisfaction (Rolling Stones), etc.

Billy Joe Armstrong with a lucky fan by Sandra Markovic

As for their own songs in the setlist, Green Day don’t skimp on the abundant fan favourites – well, except for the unfairly snubbed Welcome To Paradise. Despite being the Revolution Radio tour (which Armstrong made sure everyone knew throughout the night), it’s cuts from 2004’s American Idiot that build the set’s frame and garner the heftiest cheers – early in the set, a triple shot of Holiday, Letterbomb and Boulevard Of Broken Dreams has us damn near foaming from the mouth. The handful of tracks we do get from Rev Rad all translate stunningly well to the stage: Bang Bang strikes the perfect balance of singalongs and circle pits, Forever Now makes for a goosebump-spurring closer, and, dare we say it, Youngblood might just have what it takes to cement itself as a future classic. Dookie jams She and Basket Case bring older fans out of the woodwork (and into the pits), and Minority – the sole pick from 2000’s criminally underrated Warning – is an effortless highlight in and of itself.

Green Day by Sandra Markovic

And of course, infinitely more important than Green Day’s theatrics, their gimmicks, their stage or their setlist is… Well… Green Day. The trio – fleshed out to a sextet with multi-instrumentalist Freese and guitarists Jason White and Jeff Matika – coalesce with a young band’s vigour, thrashing out and losing themselves in every punchy riff and poppy roar. There’s a genuine love for their art at play here, and it’s clear to see when Armstrong and Dirnt swap spots and stunned smiles, when Cool and Dirnt trade banter off the cuff, and when White and Freese buddy up at their axes.

“Four chords and the truth,” Armstrong declares the Revolution Radio tour to be. That much might be untrue, but y’know, we’re cool with it. One day, Green Day will play another run of shows sans fireworks and t-shirt blasters – and it’ll be great, and we’ll be there, and we’ll probably fanboy/girl the fuck over it – but until then, we’ll happily stand by and bang our heads to punk’s The Avengers.

SETLIST

Know Your Enemy
Bang Bang
Revolution Radio
Holiday
Letterbomb
Boulevard Of Broken Dreams
Longview
Youngblood
Burnout
Hitchin’ A Ride
When I Come Around
Minority
Are We The Waiting
St. Jimmy
Knowledge (Cover of Operation Ivy)
Basket Case
She
King For A Day
Ska Cover Medley
Still Breathing
Forever Now
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American Idiot
Jesus Of Suburbia
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Ordinary World
Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life)