Sublime
Second Hand Smoke

Release Date: 1997 | Tracklist

I still remember the first time I ever listened to Sublime, smiling from ear to ear, laying on my bed watching television and not remembering a second of whatever show I was watching for the brilliant melodies of this newly discovered reggae-ska music in my portable Sony CD player that I never took anywhere because it was embarrassingly large. I have a personal connection with this band’s music, as 40oz. To Freedom was the first album I could “call my own”; sure my father let me listen to his Zeppelin, The Who and AC/DC records but I never felt that these bands were calling out to me so to speak. AC/DC was catchy, The Who were too and Robert Plant has one of the best voices I’ve ever heard sing a song, but I still couldn’t enjoy these bands to their fullest extent. One lonely afternoon I found myself in the local FYE (For Your Entertainment), and I had about twenty-five dollars in my pocket because FYE rip people off and smile about it when they leave, and I knew Sublime from a friend at my middle school who praised them like they were the second coming of Christ. I noticed the unmistakable artwork of 40oz’s and copped it like a gangsta and listened to some Led Zeppelin and AC/DC on the ride back home. I popped the CD in the player, and I was enveloped seconds into “Waiting For My Ruca” and it’s seductive, pumping bass sounds and Bradley Nowell’s downright sexy voice. This was one of the few times in my life that I was truly amazed, and hands down, my most euphoric musical experience since. Years and years have passed since then but the image remains in me as vividly as if it were a few minutes ago. Thus, Sublime’s effect on me has changed very little, if at all. Their music takes me back and pushes me forward – reminding me of serene days at the beach, wishing I lived in California and many other childhood memories; reminding me of my convictions as a musician and a writer, my problems that need fixing, and other things that Brad’s lyrics swim with amongst the hectic waters of my mind.

When I came across “Second Hand Smoke” I was convinced that it was a full-length studio album and not a compilation of previously recorded songs, like it is. Upon discovering this, I didn’t know what to think of the record, and it lost it's sentimental feel. I wrote a crappy review for it a few years ago which you can see for yourself right here on this website. Anyway, I can’t say I didn’t enjoy this because I did but I failed to realize that some of these songs tell a harrowing tale of Bradley Nowell’s decline…

”Second Hand Smoke is a collection of remixes, b-sides, and other unreleased Sublime material from Bob Marley covers to a song featuring the lovely Gwen Stefani of No Doubt and Hollaback Girl fame. In sync with Sublime’s party-all-night attitude, this record delivers even more so than one may think. I know that it isn’t, but I can’t help thinking of this record as an album with a story, and a rythmic motif to carry it along. Second Hand Smoke is so celestial, befitting the tragedy that is Bradley Nowell. The significance of that is the celebratory theme of SHS; as a celebration of Bradley’s voice these re-masters hit all the right notes and in doing so allow Brad to shine as bright as possible. Now I’m not saying he wasn’t an important part of Sublime before all this, but the lo-fi of 40oz To Freedom and Robbin’ The Hood doesn’t play favorites. So think of this as the “Bradley Nowell Show”, starring you know who. Speaking of him, some of his best lyrics can be heard on Second Hand Smoke. The down-trodden and addicted Brad records Romeo, an upbeat however doomed ballad of one destined for suicide. He speaks of the opiate heroin as if it were a sloppy lover whose attraction is powerful nevertheless – a testy metaphor that is all too accurate. If you didn’t know, Brad died of an over dose on the very same drug he alludes to on Romeo, and frequently referred to it under the layers of his lyrics. He was a doomsayer predicting his very own demise. He liked to hide his drug troubles, and this lyrical manipulation led many to believe Bradley was just another hopeless romantic songwriter – I wonder, would we rather have kept the singer alive and remain ignorant of his woe? The untimely death of this man is a horrible thing but I’m very glad that he isn’t getting emotional on a VH1 special where the substance of his music is drowned in the endless obsessions of pop-culture.

Had A Dat is the downfall of a storyteller, namely Brad of course. It’s doubtlessly the best song on Second Hand Smoke but that isn’t the point. This isn’t about heroin, either. In this song Bradley confesses to enjoying the short-lived pleasures of a guy who lives off show-business and it’s devilish lifestyle, while engrossing can drive a man insane. He switches between perspectives and prays for help, but in the end he knows that he “won’t get too far”. His regrets, combined with unhealthy, un-kickable habits speak to him from the back of his mind, and this crumbles a once towering individual. “When I’m on the ground I cry” exclaims the doomed poet, and rides to his fate on a haunting bass hook. By now you may realize the dominating theme of Brad’s music. When he wasn’t writing party anthems his destiny would seep through his pen and scream back at him, demanding to be heard. So now we’re left with a dead body and musical mental breakdown. Nowell’s life suggests not the danger of drugs, but addiction. “Had A Dat” is what a junkie’s (of any kind) final hours sound like. “The bright sun sinkin’ low, I never feel afraid to let emotions show…before I end, you’ll be victims to my stories, tales, lies and exaggerations.”

So yeah those are only two songs, I realize that. But it shows just how much about Bradley this album really is. Released the year after his death, it serves as a memorial moreso than an actual record, I think. I’ve yet to hear a finer example of Brad’s vocal talent and this is coming from someone who thinks 40oz To Freedom is an undeniable classic. The group efforts of those other albums just don’t give Brad enough room to express himself alone, but they don’t need to and I don’t think he would have wanted them to. But this is good, he’d have kicked to it no doubt and rightfully so – its funky as Sublime ever was. Sure, it doesn’t hold a candle to 40oz or even Robbin’ The Hood but it’s production and overall vibe rival that of the self-titled album; it’d be difficult for me to decide on a better contender. Brad's ethereal voice anticipates it’s next performance when Second Hand Smoke’s dub tracks take over the show but never stealing it, as Brad’s lyrics will outshine lyricists for years to come and no reggae enthusiast can remix that.

My personal connection with this band has not dwindled a bit. My love for Sublime is stronger, as real love grows, like life does. Listening to Brad pour his heart out at me is an experience I can only describe as sublime. The dubs and remixes of Second Hand Smoke bring the mind to better days, dreams of tropical beaches, beautiful chicas, marijuana you can smell for miles and above all a powerful friendship which is what Sublime was derived from in the first place, three good friends who could rock a party and play their instruments damn well to boot.

Ain’t got no quarrels with God, ain’t got no time to grow old. Lord knows I’m weak, won’t somebody get me off this reef…

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3.6 great

Rank: #64 for 1997