Green Day at the Birmingham NEC

Just got back from the Green Day show in Birmingham and I'm covered in bruises.

It was an amazing show, and it was nice to see one that I didn't have to write about, although I find I do that anyway (Exhibit A). It's a way of life at this point. I left my camera at the hotel cause I didn't want anything to happen to it and immediately felt weird and anxious without it. It was just as well, really -- we were too far away to get good pictures and I probably would have killed the poor thing at some point -- I managed to fall over a row of seats at the LG Arena stone cold sober. Impressive, right?

Everything that needs to be said about Green Day's live performances has already been said. Listening to the giddy teenage girls sitting behind me on the bus for the three hours it took to get to Birmingham left me with the impression that I knew what I was getting myself into, but I didn't expect my reaction. As I said, I couldn't really see anything at the show, but I still felt for a second like I was ten again, strapped into a pair of black and pink rollerblades with a Blizzard in one hand and a discman in the other; Dookie was the first CD I admit to owning. I knew all the words (much to my mother's chagrin after hearing Longview), and I still do.

So does everyone else, it so happens. The audience participation level rivalled mass viewings of Rocky Horror Picture Show and the set was longer. Everybody was singing, and what struck me about that was how clear it was for 16,000 people. When Billie Joe's voice dropped out leaving the entire audience singing Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) it was incredibly moving. I bet the Church wishes it could rally a congregation together like that -- not only in size, but in time, harmony, and accuracy. The passion was palpable. Somehow this band has managed to draw together masses and masses of people through music and a message -- it's Punk values on a worldwide scale and it's inspiring.

On a side note, I don't think I'll ever forget the weirdness of feeling like the only American in Birmingham during American Idiot. Being surrounded by that many bouncing Europeans shouting about just a few of the failings of my home country, well... that was awkward. Don't get me wrong, I was shouting, too, but I wasn't in a hurry to announce "hey, this song's about me!", either. Still, it was cool to be at the back watching all this from a different perspective. When American Idiot came out, I was still in Minnesota. It really has a different resonance when it feels like it's aimed more at you...