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 mind-fuck America
Welcome to a new kind of tension
All across the alien nation
Where everything isn't meant to be
okay
Television dreams of tomorrow
We're not the ones who're meant to
follow
For that's enough to argue
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
***
In doing my
research for this post, I was startled to realize that the album, American
Idiot, actually came out in 2004, which seems rather later than I thought.
But I guess that is kind of the way it often works for me, given my, um, complicated,
relationship with popular music. Maybe I should back up a bit and
explain.
Music is one
of the most important parts of my life. I do not remember a time when I didn’t
love music, and care deeply about music. Classical music in particular has been
meaningful to me my entire lifetime. When I was very young, I remember
snuggling in my parents’ bed after dark, listening to the classical program
sponsored by a local utility. Somewhere around age 6, I saw a little friend of
mine play a recital on violin, and I was struck by the idea that maybe I too
could learn to play. I pestered my poor parents until they gave in and got
me a violin and lessons for my 7th birthday. My mom probably deserves a
sainthood for putting up with those first years until I got to the point where
my playing was bearable. We didn’t have much money at that time, so even
lessons were a stretch. But my mom also found a way to get a set of classical
albums from a grocery store promotion, and from then on, classical has been a
part of my listening. I worked my way from youth symphony to the grown up
version around age 20, and have enjoyed making music with friends most of my
life.
So that’s
the classical side.
My dad
always had a love for classic pop and rock from the 1960s, particularly The
Beach Boys. I gained an introduction to that era from listening to the radio
while driving around with him.
Unfortunately,
as I got to the age where I might learn the music of my own generation, my
parents got into a bizarre bit of religious fanaticism on the subject of music.
I don’t even remember the source or speaker on the tapes, but it basically tied
all music that has an “African” origin - jazz, rock, pop, modern country, etc.
- to “the devil’s music.” This idea was also a core part of Bill Gothard’s
teaching, which dominated our family from my mid-teens onward.
This led to
a huge tension in my life. I learned enough of the drums to play for our youth
group and even fill in for the adult service. But I had to (more or less) lie
to my mom that I played on beats 1 and 3 (God’s preference) rather than on 2
and 4 (the Devil’s beat). Which is - as any legitimate musician would know -
utter bullshit. The history of Western music (and more) is that of bass on
beats 1 and 3 and treble on 2 and 4. Basically, this whole thing was racism
applied to music. Damn n----r beats, of course.
So, my teen
years were kind of a pantomime, in a way. Once I got my own car and license, I
listened to stuff I liked (mostly learning the 60s and 70s on a good oldies
station Bakersfield had at the time), playing music on drums, electric guitar,
with actual syncopation. (Like, um, every classical composer too…) And, at the
same time, trying not to freak my mom out any more than I had to. Which meant
that I had to stay fully clear of anything actually modern on the radio. And
certainly never listen to anything with a parental advisory on the cover.
After I
finally got a place of my own at age 22 - by which time the Internet had
arrived - I had to go back and discover my own generation’s music. It has been
a...process, shall we say. One thing I have had in my favor is a baseline of
musical knowledge, which, along with a decent memory, allowed me to learn
quickly.
I do
remember the first time I really listened to Green Day. It was around 1999 or
so, when I was visiting friends (ironically, fellow Gothardites) who were a few
years younger. We drove around Sonoma County in their Bronco and listened to
forbidden music like Nirvana and Green Day - those were the two that stood out
the most. Okay, and Weird Al Yankovic.
It is hard
to believe that American Idiot didn’t come out until a few years later,
after I was married and had a couple kids. Somehow, the songs run together with
the older ones of my first memory.
So all this
to come to the present. My eldest is, like me, a musical omnivore. This has
meant a heck of a lot of fun, honestly. We saw Bohemian Rhapsody
together (she’s a huge Queen fan), and we go to concerts and sing along with
all the songs we know from the 60s to the 90s. When we saw that there was going
to be a local production of American Idiot, we knew we had to go see
it.
I wasn’t
entirely sure what to expect from the show. I got busy and didn’t have a chance
to go through the album in detail and figure it out, so I had to kind of follow
things as they came.
The basic
idea of the musical is a very barebones plot to hold together the songs
themselves. The album is even more vague than the musical, of course. It has a
basic idea, and the beginning of a plot, but it never really figures out what
happens. Which is fine: it’s a concept album that just happens to have some
amazing songs that have aged really well.
If I had it
to do over again, I would have gone ahead and read the Wikipedia plot summary
first, to make things easier to follow. Basically, this is what it is: three
friends growing up in a suburban dystopia decide to leave for the big city to
find themselves. One ends up staying behind after his girlfriend gets pregnant.
Another tires of the city quickly and joins the army, getting seriously wounded
in Iraq. The third spirals down into drug addiction before deciding to return
home. Which is what all three end up doing after their escapades.
TES publicity photo
Obviously,
the plot isn’t the main point here. The songs are the thing, and they have
stood up to time surprisingly well. Written three years into the Iraq War -
which has turned out to have been the first in an 18 year (and counting…)
debacle of absolute self-fuckery. The poets have turned out to be prophets in
the end.
To me and
those like me, this wasn’t obvious at the time. I was all in on the war, having
seen the towers fall. It was rah, rah, shock ‘n’ awe and this was totally going
to work and be over fast and not turn into another Vietnam because this time we
weren’t going to leave but were going to blow the bad guys to kingdom come and
fuck the naysayers because the liberals were all a bunch of pansies and…
Well, here
we are 18 years later. My children have never known a time we weren’t at
war. We have caused, in all likelihood, well north of a million civilian
casualties - innocent victims we euphemize as “collateral damage.” Saddam and
Osama have been replaced by ISIS and others, and I can’t honestly say that any
place in the Middle East is better off than before we intervened. (Although, to be fair, our disastrous
interference dates back to World War I…) We have a generation
of soldiers (as in Vietnam) who are traumatized by their experiences, causing
ongoing issues with homelessness, suicide, and general dysfunction. And, as
problematic as George W. Bush was (and I voted for him, twice, don’t judge),
now we have gone far beyond him to the delightful combination of idiocy and
virulent hatred that is personified in Trump. And it sure looks like Green Day
was prophetic about the future, with Fox News and racist rednecks and bigoted
theocrats in power. Good god. The poets (and musicians) have been and continue
to be our prophets.
So, a bit
about this production. First, the bad. I found the vocals to be uneven, with
some intermittent pitch issues. Combined with this (and perhaps causing it) was
the challenging logistics. The Empty Space is a very small venue, in an older
strip mall. Although they used mics this time - most shows have been pure
acoustic - there is still no way to get around the acoustical challenges of the
venue. For some shows, the vocals have been outstanding, but others, not so
much. This one was a mixed bag. Interestingly, the best parts were the ensemble
numbers. I get the feeling that the members of the ensemble cast were more
comfortable singing under difficult conditions than the leads, and were able to
carry the pitch. So, as a musician myself, there were some moments where I
really wished the pitch had been better.
On the more
positive side, I loved that TES got some live musicians. In particular, Alex
Mitts (who has been a favorite of mine as an actor and singer in past productions)
rocked it on guitar and general enthusiasm in the on-stage band. (Two guitars
and bass were placed at backstage behind a chain link fence.) Kudos as well to
Scott Deaton and Luis Velez (who also act!) - I’ve played for musicals myself,
and it is a freaking difficult and thankless job.
The most
major change that TES made from the original was flipping the gender of the
lead character. Johnny, and part of the alter-ego “St. Jimmy,” were performed
by Gari Galanski, which meant a lesbian love scene, and a somewhat different
take on the character. Maybe it is just our culture, but I found her version
less offensive than it might have been with a male lead. The love story with
“whatshername” seems more equal and less “hump and dump” than with a guy, and
the drug use more tragic and less “hey, look at me, I’m a heroic druggie!” than
I have seen with male-oriented biopics. (Think the difference between, say,
Hendrix, and Amy Winehouse…)
Johnny (Gari Galanski) and "whatshername" (Nancee Stieger) shooting up.
Oddly, I knew a heck of a lot more about heroin as a kid than I did about contemporary music...thanks to The Cross and the Switchblade and other religious books about drugs and gangs.
I should at
least mention a few of the other performers. Kelsey Morrow carried the vocal
duties for “St. Jimmy,” and she was the best vocal lead in the production. Jake
Wattenbarger as Tunny captured the anguish of of war and injury - and looked a
hell of a lot like Billie Joe Armstrong, although Armstrong never played that
particular part. Nolan Long, a regular at TES, was rather strong as Will, the
pothead loser who stays home. I don’t think I had ever heard him sing, but he
was pretty good. And amusing as usual. Nancee Steiger who is good at
everything, shined in her part as “whatshername.” And a few in the ensemble who
always bring an amazing energy to the dance numbers. (Please don’t take it
wrong if I don’t mention you - the ensemble was excellent and everyone
contributed.) Corissa Garcia, Aron Clugston, Markelle Taylor, Kiera Gill, and
Elizabeth Bomar, you guys stood out for energy and engagement. Rock on.
Will (Nolan Long), Johnny (Gari Galanski), and Tunny (Jake Wattenbarger)
St. Jimmy (Kelsey Morrow)
As usual, I
must commend The Empty Space for fantastic set design. From the floor (which
had the entire song list) to the rolling couch to the slogans and posters on
the walls, the atmosphere was perfect. Kudos to directors Perrin Swanson (no
relation, but proud to share the name) and Mystie Peters for their vision for
this.
This show
runs through the 23rd, so local folks might want to see it. TES is criminally
inexpensive, so I never feel bad about grabbing a ticket and a cocktail or
coffee there. Give it a shot.
***
Some
personal stuff:
During my
first real crisis of faith
this decade, a few Green Day songs have been meaningful to me. None more so
than the quintessential misused graduation song, “Good Riddance.” That song was kind
of my own personal anthem to both persons and institutions that were abusive to
me and mine. Naturally, it has a badass violin part. If I hadn’t had a symphony
concert in the middle of the run, I would have accepted the invite to be part
of this production. Sigh. The sacrifices we make for art…
Anyway, I’ll
just mention “Boulevard of Broken Dreams,” “Holiday,” “Extraordinary Girl,” “Wake Me Up When September Ends,”
and “21 Guns” as
additional favorites as songs from the musical. Again, “Holiday” seems to
anticipate the Trump era in so many ways. Yeah, let’s embrace authoritarianism,
wrap ourselves in the flag and faith, throw the Nazi salute at Il Toupeee, and
kill the “fags” who disagree. Yeah, fuck that.
So many of these songs speak to me. “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” is one of my
all time favorite songs, and the video was filmed in my beloved Mojave
Desert. It has been a source of bonding with my eldest.
But is has
to be “Good Riddance”
that has been the genuine soundtrack for my break from, well, a lot of things.
Evangelicalism, of course. But really, Billie Joe Armstrong wrote it as a
breakup song for an ex, and it really captures the bittersweet essence of
breaking up with...whatever. I have never had a nasty romantic breakup (that
goes along with marrying your first real girlfriend - who is an amazing woman
who you truly want to spend the rest of your life with), but I have had some
truly traumatic breakups with my religious tradition and certain members of my
extended family, some of whom I have retained a relationship with - in a
decidedly modified form - and others of which I have no relationship with
because of their abusive behavior. And ditto for a few people in my religious
history who went behind my back to propagate hate.
Yet, when I
look back, my personal and religious background also made me who I am.
So take the photographs and still frames in your mind
Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time
Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial
For what it's worth it was worth all the while
That’s
absolutely me. I am, for better or for worse, a product of my upbringing. The
good and bad of my parents, religion, religious leaders, politics, and extended
family. My
40 years spent in Evangelicalism, my upbringing in Cultural Fundamentalism. Those memories and dead skin on trial - they made me who I am. Were
they worth it? Hell if I know, but it’s not like I had a choice when it came to
my family. And I can’t say I really should have known to reject my religious
tradition until it became obviously toxic. There were good times too. It made
me what I am, for better or for worse.
But, as I
have deconstructed things over the last decade or so, “Good Riddance” has been
on my playlist for those late nights when I have been working through my
baggage. In some ways, it has been permission to let go of those ideas - and
people - who have been toxic in my life.
Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go
So make the best of this test and don't ask why
It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time
Those
moments, those turning points in my past (and I can think of specific dates…)
were indeed moments when time grabbed me by the wrist, and I had no real choice
where to go. It wasn’t so much that I had a real decision to make, as that I
had to learn a lesson. Evangelicalism wasn’t some benign religion, but a
fucking white supremacist political movement. My family wasn’t ever going to
truly accept the choices my wife and I made, but would insist on imposing 1850s
gender roles and expectations on us. It was a lesson learned in time. I don’t
really have to ask why (although I certainly do ask why, as a matter of
theological necessity to myself), but I do have to learn the lesson. I hope I
have.
But at every
major turning point in the road over the last decade, I have played this song
as I have tried to deconstruct my own trauma. There is something about it, the
combination of rejection of the past with the acknowledgement that who we are
is totally about the reality we were raised in, that resonates with us Fundie
survivors today. I wouldn’t give up who I am, even as I acknowledge how my past
has traumatized me. And yes, Green Day is part of who I am as well. And for
that I am thankful.
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