More than any other piece of music, 2024 was a year that kept coming back to “American Idiot.” For reasons I hadn’t expected, it was on my mind for almost the entire year as it went from thinking about how Green Day’s “Saviors” was one of their most vital records in decades to the actual 20th anniversary of a Millennial touchstone, to somehow getting roped into seeing the Broadway musical adaptation when it played at The Mark Taper Theater at their grand reopening. Even if it’s not my favorite record, it seemed to be everywhere. Turn on the classic rock stations, and there’s “Holiday” or “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” chugging alongside the other standbys from the era. Given that we’re bound to think about this record one more time as the quarter-century anniversary approaches in 2029, it’s been quite the year to feel old.
Not only did the album hit the market like a wrecking ball, but I think it resonates with when it did. A reason it’s difficult to fully remove sentimentalism like I can with My Chemical Romance’s “The Black Parade” is because it was more than music. It was a connective tissue to where I was in high school. I was a Freshman trying to understand my place within the pecking order. Given that I was into punk music and having that typical 15-year-old rambunctious spirit, nothing seemed more attractive than having the hit rock record of the year connect me to the fringe groups as much as the kids more defined by mainstream tastes. We were unified in ways that I feel no rock band has been able to achieve in the past 15 years. Our Myspace profiles were littered with quotes and pictures of Billie Joe Armstrong looking demonically at the camera. He seemed to be on every music magazine cover for the next two years. The band was inescapable, promising a brighter future for the medium.
To jump forward, I think one of the most surreal experiences of the year remains going to see American Idiot: The Musical. Whereas I could be told that Green Day was embracing the spirit of “disenfranchisement” and how that could be seen as sincere or not, there was something that I always thought was goofy about it moving to the stage. It wasn’t a terribly nuanced record. Even for a concept record, I couldn’t understand what the larger story was. The songs were thematic, reflecting more a sketchbook style narrative of early 2000s life. There were drugs, PTSD, financial woes, dysfunctional families, and believing in false prophets. They were all there, but I can’t say that I fully understood what they meant until this recent time around.
I understood “American Idiot” to be a political record. It was difficult to not recall the two concerts I attended between 2004 and 2005 where Armstrong opened “Holiday” by saying “I’m not anti-American. I’m anti-war!” There was this push to rally the troops and get people involved. They had songs on the famous compilation series “Rock Against Bush” and they weren’t subtle about their larger motives. Even as crowds moshed and chanted along, there was this unification of the youth believing that they were stronger in numbers.
While Green Day has yet to match that high again, I was personally surprised with how seeing the musical wrapped together a lot of emotions. At the time of “Saviors,” I found a band that was rediscovering their purpose. Every now and then I hear “Dilemma” and feel myself experiencing an emotion they haven’t given me since “Whatsername.” There was this passion and effort put into their work that made you appreciate them more. Outside of The Hives, I’d argue most bands I loved from 20 years ago have become more muddled in old age, unsure of what they want to say anymore. Meanwhile, “Saviors” is a record that finds Armstrong singing like a proud bisexual with earnestness. This doesn’t feel like a strained gimmick like “Father of All Motherfuckers.” “Saviors” is very much a record that makes me believe that they understand their place in the pantheon and that they’ve finally accepted their role as pop-punk mentors.
This may sound tangential, but it ended up being inspiring. When you hear a band who is in touch with what made them vital in the first place, you realize that art doesn’t worsen with age. While I’m 35 and can be considered still youthful, there is that fear of reaching a point where the creativity shuts off and then you’re left rehashing old ideas. You’re no longer new or expressing something that people want to hear. Green Day, I feared, was going that way. In a year that featured both the 20th anniversary of “American Idiot” and the 30th of “Dookie,” it so easily could’ve been a period of coattail riding. Given how I see a lot of classic rock bands, it would be so easy to imagine the aging beer-gutted fans at shows yelling “shut up and play the hits!” Along with being a song jampacked with vulnerability and honesty, it’s a major reason that “Dilemma” excites me. It's not the last hurrah. If anything, it’s the optimism that Green Day will bunk the trend and be with us until “Dookie” turns 50, maybe even 60. Given that I grew up amid a “live fast, die young” message echoing through punk communities, it is a nice piece of irony.
In some ways, “Saviors” being as good as it was made me feel better about stepping into The Mark Taper. While there would be this surreal touch of seeing a predominantly Gen-Z cast perform a Millennial touchstone, it was also that chance to reflect on why this music resonates across generations.
The timing also couldn’t have been any better. “American Idiot” was a commentary on Bush era politics that many could argue have become antique. So much had changed since 2004, and you wanted to believe that this would be a period piece that made you think of days hanging out in high school and dreaming of better things. While that novelty is buried somewhere in there for me, the musical was an updated production which included new iconography. Along with a cast of English speaking vocalists, including Zombies star Milo Manheim, there were American Sign Language actors who provided their own speaking parts. To me, it adds a beautiful subtext to how it spoke to people who felt like they were silenced. I began to realize this was a record not only for me, but for those with disabilities just trying to be respected and welcomed into circles I took for granted.
Among the iconography was the last face I had wanted to see in my little piece of escapism. A few days prior, I had voted in the American presidential election. The fallout was notorious with many preparing their doomsday speeches. It was a difficult evening to be on Twitter because rarely have I heard so many people I respected acting suicidal and loathing the years to come. I was disappointed, yes, but I think I’m naïve enough to believe in the “strength in numbers” concept, that there would be a pushback that would keep the truly terrifying from happening. Maybe it’s my instinct to force myself to think optimistically, but I wasn’t ready to believe we were entering our version of 1940s Germany. We had too many people fighting back. While I recognize Republicans have their own immoral force, I want to believe we’re down but not out.
So to see our once and future president’s face in a montage more reflective of where politics were in 2016 made my stomach queasy. For as much as contemporary music had failed to find its “American Idiot” that rallied the masses in quite the same way, I was realizing slowly how much the messaging spoke to the here and now. We were still frustrated with the forces that be. Having known military men my age, I became more intrigued by the idea of fighting for an idea that is conflicting. You are taught that there’s nothing greater than to protect this nation, and yet I’m at a very divisive time in my mind. I love it, but with just one man’s face I have to question the value of blind loyalty. A healthy level of questioning is important, but what answers does that lead to? Along with people suffering from opioid epidemics and the rise of fentanyl, the language of its story felt more alive than I had expected.
For as much as the musical ended on a somber note of inconclusion, I figured out why it spoke to people my age and how it became our gift to the next generation. It was evidence that there were ways to express your frustration and find connection. There were ways to express hope within the larger disappointments. More than anything, I got to “Whatsername” once again and felt that emotional tingle I get whenever it comes on. Having Manheim, an actor I generally like, sing it only made it more powerful.
The idea was about how time marches on. People will come and go. Sometimes the tragedy is that you’re not the person you want to be when you’re with them and all you can do is live with that regret. Despite everything that’s happened, time marches on. For all of the rebellions that briefly lead to small satisfactions, the fight is not over. We still must question why things aren’t better. Why are we allowed to suffer in the land of make believe where “they don’t believe in me”? For the length of the show, you buy into the energy of actors trying to push beyond their limitations and form a better world. Will we get there? We might, but you have to keep marching.
Another thing that I didn’t expect to find overwhelming was how “Holiday” plays differently in 2024. Along with the projected texts filling the stage, the lyrics “Kill all the fags that don’t agree” ran a chill down my spine. For the first time, I noticed the commentary that line always meant. Ironically, it was said by a character originally called “The Representative from California,” reminding me that even my home state used to be a lot more prejudiced. As rainbow capitalism fades into the sunset and government buildings refuse to fly pride flags, it’s getting harder to believe that a state renowned for its “liberal agenda” and sanctuary state status is going to be welcoming for much longer. I heard the slur and thought of the people earlier that week fearing that they wouldn’t get their HRT or be allowed to marry their partners. Suddenly this was a song full of familiar anguish that made me realize that, oh no, we’re still experiencing these struggles. I’m just more aware of them now.
To be completely honest, American Idiot as a show is mediocre and desperately tries to borrow from Rent energy. It’s about as successful in swaying me to its cause. Part of that is because I never felt it conveyed a story that worked as more than performance art. Even then, it was nice to hear the music connecting with a larger audience, even further than the rowdy teens I had known back in the day. It felt validating to know that some of the music I liked a ways back still spoke to the soul. It still had this power to unify and give people hope. Even if I’d rather just listen to the record than revisit the show, I’m glad it exists because, much to my surprise, the orchestration translates very well.
At the end of the day, “American Idiot” was a message that I needed to hear in 2024 because it reminded me that things can get better. All we have to do is keep moving forward. Since November, it’s been hard to embrace that naïve optimism of an American future that could better itself. However, as Armstrong sings “Dilemma” or the musical actors hug each other while singing the finale, you realize the beauty. So long as the message lives on, there will be reason to fight. You are not alone. The powers may have become more crooked, but there will be someone there who will pick you up. Not everything is meant to last. Your past is as important as your future. The mistakes hopefully lead to lessons that better our lives. For as chaotic and remorseful as things were 20 years ago, I’m relieved to know that we’re still here. Never forget. There’s power in numbers. We just need to stay strong.
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