Review Summary: "I must insist, on being a pessimist. I'm a loner in a catastrophic mind"
Simple. Juvenile. Immature. Yep, that's the essence of Green Day. It can be a good thing though - being a grownup all the time isn't good for you, and punk is nothing if not a celebration of everything bratty and angry. For all the criticism it invites, Insomniac nevertheless succeeds very well at what it does, more so (in my opinion) than its breakthrough predecessor Dookie. It may be impossible to be objective but even now, years onward from the time I practically wore the disc out as a depressed high-schooler, I have to say it stands up remarkably well. It's energetic, it's bouncy, it's mindless, it flows effortlessly, it's got the same kind of fluffy sing-along quality that AC/DC elevated to an art form. (Sort of. Maybe. Well what would you call it?)
This is not to say there aren't wonderful moments on the record. On the contrary, the playing is tight, the double-tracked Marshall-distorted guitars are full and fat (Maybe a little too fat? Some nice bass lines are nearly inaudible.) and there are a number of memorable songs. The opener "Armatage Shanks" stuck in my head for days, "Stuart and the Ave." is a pretty, irresistible song and "Bab's Uvula Who?" is a full-speed rave that will (unfortunately) trigger mosh pits in stadiums across the country. The hooks are familiar (after all, how many three or four chord hooks exist?), but pleasant and well-done. For instance, "Stuck With Me" opens with the "Tattooed Love Boys" hook, but does it proud, especially the way the hook sneaks back into the song at the end. Unlike Kerplunk and Dookie, the title of Insomniac is not a toilet joke, which is a tiny but real symbol of maturing. Their explosive rise to the top ranks of music acts has brought a new sense of responsibility that comes with power. Their first post-megasuccess concert in Oakland was a benefit for a number of worthy Berkeley activist groups like the Berkeley Free Clinic and the unfairly-persecuted group Food Not Bombs. They asked the proudly gay Pansy Division to open for them, thumbing their nose at the new mainstream audience they'd won.
With each album, Billie Joe's lyrics seem to gain new confidence. He's always had a knack for finding very singable phrases and Insomniac is full of them. "I'm a loner in a catastrophic mind" and "I get myself all wound up" just roll off the tongue, and when "Panic Song" hits the end with the ringing "I wanna drop out", it's nearly breath-taking. I say "nearly" because the half the album is in the "Basket Case" school of first-person confessions of defectiveness. The attitude towards the targets of these songs ranges from total scorn to a trace of amused sympathy, and if some of the songs weren't so catchy, the album would just be a parade of contempt. As it is, the songs are similar enough that the recurring testimonials of self-lameness become wearying. Only the "he" of "Stuart and the Ave." and "she" of "Westbound Sign" have the least bit of hope of action and change. It's almost as if Billie Joe feels a responsibility to be more "relevant", whatever that means, by changing topics from young angst and love to more "serious" and general topics, which means in this case a number of darts at self-destructive youth. And while he can't be totally blamed for the inevitable dimwits who take "Geek Stink Breath" as a glorification of speed, there is a significant lack of affirmation on this record. There are also an unusually large number of Berkeley references (Tight Wad Hill, Stuart, 86, and more) and in-jokes in the lyrics, as if they were trying to maintain a personal connection to the serious songs by putting in near-nostalgic references to the past that they are now cut off from.
Punk is not a Casio synthesizer beat setting. If it's true that the spirit of punk is that music is a vital part of life and community that everyone should have access to, as performer or audience, and if it's true that the other promise of punk is the freedom to make exactly the kind of music you love and that's important to you, and if it's true that the artifacts of punk should be available to everyone and not an elite few. Listening to this record, I can't help but feel that they are suppressing their pop side to defend a preconception of the sound of punk, especially when you compare the Warner records with the earlier giddy and energetic Lookout! records. The album's title is entirely apt, drawn from the fact the Billie Joe couldn't sleep during this period, and song after song depicts a mind about to snap. Truth is, I can often relate, and this music isn't gloomy or ruminating, it's cathartic. When the world stresses me out I'm grateful to be able to crank songs like "Bab's Uvula Who" and flail like a crazy person in front of my stereo system "Insomniac"'s only flaw is that so many of the tracks are five-star genius that the few three-point-five-star tracks stick out like a sore thumb. "Tight Wad Hill" and "Westbound Sign" in particular are frequent victims of the skip button. But in an album that's barely half an hour long, the songs barely two minutes, it's a forgivable flaw. "Insomniac" is an easy entry into my personal hall of fame, and you should definitely reacquaint yourself with it if it's slipped from your memories.
