How do you follow up one of the most commercially-successful albums of
the decade? Simple: by recording another one that sounds exactly the
same. "INSOMNIAC" might as well have been called "SON OF DOOKIE" or
"RETURN OF DOOKIE." This is not bad, mind you--after all, you didn't
stop eating sundaes after your first one, did you? You keep ordering
them because they always taste the same, and they always taste good.
The effect of surprise (surprise, that is, if you weren't around 20
years ago for the first wave) that worked so well on "DOOKIE" is lost
here, so "INSOMNIAC" is enjoyable in a comfort-food kind of way. This
is probably not what a punk band is supposed to be (they're supposed
to screw the establishment and all, not be comfortable), but tired,
guitar-smashing antics haven't righted the world's wrongs yet, so
guys like Green Day are smart enough to channel their energy into the
music.
There are a few differences between "INSOMNIAC" and Green Day's major
label debut. Musically, Green Day still plays basic, three-chord
power blasts, but Mike Dirnt has learned to vary his bass lines a
little bit, Billie Joe's dropped most of the faux-English accent,
and all the songs aren't built on the same familiar
verse-chorus-bridge-chorus structure. Lyrically, it does look like
success has altered the band's perspective--how could it not? What
previously came across as disaffected loser-cool has turned into
ambivalent self-criticism bordering on self-loathing and reevaluation.
On "Walking Contradiction," Billie Joe sings, "my wallet's fat and so
is my head/...losers winning big on the lottery," while
"Geek Stink Breath" uses a rotten tooth as a metaphor for inner decay.
The most pungent comment on the perils of fame is not in the music,
but on the CD's artwork: on a corner of the collage-style sleeve, a
blonde woman holding a guitar aims a gun at a man happily sleeping
in a hammock.
Still, fear not. We're not treading on Morrissey-style introspective
territory here. There's no time for that. Green Day is too busy
packing a punch mighty enough to start a mosh pit at a meditation
clinic. When the self-loathing has come and gone, that's what will
remain.
--Elizabeth Vincentelli