Green Day's New Trump-Takedown Tune Is Full Of Cliches, But Exactly What's Needed

Customers, to recall that old curse it appears we’re living in ‘interesting’ times. We are about to witness the ascension of The Great Pumpkin, and Three Doors Down’s last three minutes of fame. Only one of those is a good thing. But you should remember that repressive conservative governments often mean a resurgence in good protest songs – Thatcher was partly responsible for punk after all.

Of course, a new generation of angry music might not achieve anything much, but like Pete Townshend so neatly put it, “Rock and roll might not solve your problems, but it will let you dance all over them”.

Now, just how ‘punk’ – or indeed how good – you consider Green Day to be, at least they’re getting into the spirit at least just a bit. Troubled Times (Reprise) actually comes from their album of last year, but still fits the mood of now. It’s full of allusions to Martin Luther King and times when people had dreams, and Billie Joe still manages to sound like a pissed-off common man although likely a multi-millionaire by now. But hey, if Springsteen can still manage it, why the hell not? Song is full of simple clichés and slogans, but that might be exactly what’s needed.

If you’re after something in a slightly more arty line of politically charged music, a like-minded alliance of CocoRosie and Anohni might be more to your tastes.  Smoke ‘Em Out (No Paper) has a (probably) allegorical White House full of ‘Children and wives, waving forks and knives’ and the suggestion it should be burnt down and started all over again. The most radical ideas sometimes come from the most unlikely of sources. Sadly, this idea may seem more reasonable as the next few months unfold for our American friends. 

Or sometimes maybe all you can do is turn the amps up to 11 – particularly the volume and treble knobs – and just fill the garage with a racket to make you feel something, if only a slight ringing in your ears a few hours later. Royal Chant keep to the fine traditions of DIY. The drummer produced the song, the bassist did the artwork, and Yada Yada Yada (Dirty Mab) ideally sums up another spirit of the times. But even they’re changing, as this comes at you all hard and fuzzy then shows they’re learning some lessons in dynamics by a mid-tune breakdown, before it goes up through the gears again.

And then someone you don’t expect comes up with a music you really don’t expect of them. Cameron Avery is one of the great and broad Tame Impala collective, but those of you immediately seeking something rambling and psychedelic in nature will be surprised by Wasted On Fidelity (Spinning Top) as Cam has a somewhat resigned and weary dissertation about domestic bliss that probably owes more to the Bonnie Prince Billys or even Father John Mistys of the world. And does so rather well. 

But to everything there’s an equal and opposite reaction, where even after one of their usual lengthy breaks, Spoon are sprawling about with a noise that leans toward that psychedelic word, but seems to be more focussed as their sometimes contemporaries The Flaming Lips get sadly more disposably rambling. Thus Hot Thoughts (Matador) is a suitably wobbly conversation, but still seems to know where it wants to end up rather than just stumbling out of the house when the beer runs out and the acid kicks in to wake up in the park with Miley Cyrus. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Look, just give me pop music. The way it should be, damnit. *Waves walking stick at cloud*. The Creases are from Brisbane, Everybody Knows (Liberation) sees their slightly scruffy indie ways coloured with a few more textures: a violin meanders in and around, a bit of brass blurts in toward the end over a bunch of voices singing along. Crikey, even their hair looks good. Keep this up and they may well be one of the next chapters in the updated edition of Pig City, although probably closer to The Saints end of things than the Savage Garden one. 

Or just make it as simple as building it around the beauty of two human voices. The splendidly named Smith & Jones – their names being Smith and Jones, and all – default to an alt.country tone, perhaps with an occasional touch of Australicana gothic to it, as the attached clip might suggest. Thing is, the songcraft displayed in Baby Blue (Independent) would allow the country affectations like the studiedly plucked banjo to be removed, and you’d still end up with a helluva song. Abby and Sophie make this music with what seems a genuine joy in creation, and there’s never much wrong with that.

And finally, sometimes the music just suggests the need to escape from the world, or at least some of the people in it. Coming up on her fifth album, Holly Throsby has become somewhat of a renaissance woman – adding award-nominated novelist to her resume. But Aeroplane (Spunk/Caroline) is her in familiar wistful hymn mode. The emptiness and space in it perhaps just the longing to be some other place. She expresses this in an unmistakeable but unforced fashion, much as she ever has.