There is nothing surprising about this new Green Day album, and there’s a good reason for that. Their previous record Father Of All Motherfuckers didn’t win the group much in the way critical acclaim or commercial success, so the fact that the follow up is a streamlined affair that knuckles down on doing the fundamentals absolutely right and little else shouldn’t be a surprise, as it allows Green Day the space as a group to reestablish to the mainstream what they’re all about: wallopingly catchy pop-punk.
It might be transparently obvious what it’s trying to do, but Green Day have their craft down to a science such that Saviours goes down so damn easy, while still having just enough nuance between the lines that made it resonate with me more than I expected. The mammoth sweeping hook on ‘1981’, the meaty riff that opens ‘Corvette Summer’ and the rougher snarl of the guitars on the heavier ‘Living In The 20s’ make it clear that Green Day are happy mixing up their formula occasionally to cathartic results.
But it’s probably the writing that sold me on this album the most. Sure, ‘The American Dream Is Killing Me’ and ‘Strange Days Are Here To Stay’ play in very broad strokes with their social critiques, but there are plenty of songs here that feel distinct in their commentary. ‘Dilemma’ captures the mix of despair and determination that comes with fighting alcoholism, ‘Living In The 20s’ is a decisive middle finger to this whole decade, and ‘Look Ma, No Brains!’ describes revelling in stupidity and delusion in such an amusing way that it ends up a lot of fun. Although, my favourite line on the album comes on ‘Corvette Summer’: “Livin’ in chaos / Sick, and I’m bored / Take me to urgent care / Or the record storе.”
‘1981’ stands far and away as the best song on the album, though, with its infectious groove and glorious lyrics about having a good time at a party. I typically wouldn’t praise a song this reckless, but if your meltdown in the face of societal crumblings is this magnetic, you’re not going to catch me complaining. After all, if you’ve already got one foot in the grave, why not journey out for a night of cocaine, champagne, slam dancing and ferocious head banging to numb all the pain, if only for a moment?
If you think this album is formulaic or boring, I get it. Admittedly, Saviours does feel like an album coasting by on little to no effort, but there are enough solid compositions and thoughtful touches in the writing to elevate it. I’ll bang my head to this any day.