Dookie

GREEN DAY: “Dookie” (Reprise)

“I’m not growing up/I’m just burning out”. Brain-damaged Californian loonies Green Day turned to rock’n’roll since society offered them no hope of a more fulfilling alternative, and in the process they’ve put their finger on the pulse of the Wasted Generation, making perhaps the ultimate juvenile delinquent LP of all time – a brilliant, breathless, hedonistic mediation on the utter pointlessness of modern life, delivered over a background of gloriously tuneful three-chord punk/pop tunes the Ramones would have died for. In fact, the band’s influence is splattered all over Green Day’s three-minute workouts, from their semi-metallized sonic assault to their maniacally goofy cartoon humour.

The opening track ‘Burnout’ should become an anthem for the Nineties’ tragic youth: “I declare I don’t care no more/I’m burning up and out and growing BORED/In my smoked out BORING room.” This is absolutely tailormade for the millions of teenage stoners who watch MTV all day in a haze, make crude pipes out of Coca-Cola cans and think Beavis and Butthead are the funniest people in the Universe. ‘Longview’ contains more references to dope-smoking than a Bob Marley box-set: “Sit around and watch the tube but nothing’s on/Change the channels for an hour or two/Twiddle my thumbs just for a bit/I’m sick of all the same old shit . . . I got no motivation/Where is my motivation/No time for motivation/Smoking my inspiration.”

Ah, yes: Demotivational Syndrome. The school counsellor warned us about that. Green Day have grown up in an era of mass unemployment, as governments the Western world over give up even pretending to care. But they’re not remotely political. Unlike the Sex Pistols, Green Day turn their anger inwards, as if they know that taking on the system is useless. Of course, the Powers that Be would be delighted to hear this LP, and probably wish all the kids were as apathetic as Green Day, whose attitude is “Fuck the revolution, let’s roll another one”.

Their concerns are entirely personal and, like all the best music, utterly self-obsessed. Singer/lyricist Billie Joe Armstrong’s articulate, self-deprecating humour combines with the fast and loud (but not very aggressive) playing to convey an unbelievable sense of boredom and disaffection. He freely admits to being a loser – “neurotic to the bone” – and apparently this extends to all spheres of his life. “I went to a shrink/To analyse my dreams/She says it’s lack of sex that’s bringing me down/I went to a whore/She said my life’s a bore/And quit my whining cause it’s bringing her down” (‘Basket Case’).

The most instantly catchy song on the LP is ‘Welcome to Paradise’, sort of a postcard-to-the-parents from a guy that’s just left home to squad; “Some call it the slums/Some call it nice/I want to take you through a wasteland I like to call my home/Welcome to paradise”. But there are also moments of such touching honesty and eloquent despair that you realise these guys have the potential for greatness. ‘She’ has one of those rare melodies that sticks in your head all day long: ‘Sassafras Roots’ features an endearing chorus – “So why are you here?/Wasting your time/When you could be with me/Wasting your time/I’m a waste of time like you/May I waste your time too?” And the poignant ‘In The End’ (which really should have closed the album) laments the hero’s loss of his girlfriend to a rival with “all brawn and no brains”, building up to the moving climax “How long will he last?/Before he’s a CREEP in the past?/And you’re alone once again?/Will you pop up again?/And be my special friend?/Till the end?/And when will that be?”

I understand, buddy. I’m with you all the way. Now, who’s got the bong . . . ?

• Craig Fitzsimons