Billie Joe Armstrong says that he listens to punk rock every day. He wants you to know that Green Day recorded their 14th album, Saviors, while all three members were physically present in the same room because—and this part is important—that’s what real rock bands do. According to its creators, Saviors is the final installment in a trilogy that began with 1994’s breakout Dookie and 2004’s mainstream-conquering American Idiot. It’s been touted as a revival of the real Green Day: the dyed-in-the-wool East Bay punks who don’t shy away from politics, as they did on 2020’s Father of All Motherfuckers, or lean into bloated theatrics, as on 2009’s 21st Century Breakdown. It’s not the first time the band has trotted out its bona fides: 2016’s Revolution Radio was similarly promoted as a “back to basics” rock record. Saviors isn’t a return to form so much as another overcorrection, professional rebels trying to live up to their status as Rock & Roll Hall of Fame inductees.
“You wanna make rock’n’roll history again together?” That’s how megaproducer Rob Cavallo, who did some of his most famous studio work with the band on American Idiot, pitched frontman Billie Joe Armstrong on the creation of this album. Here’s what that sounds like: The guitars are overdriven to the point of parody, like a rock preset on GarageBand. There’s the dense opening solo on “One Eyed Bastard” that sounds strikingly similar to P!nk’s “So What,” the palm-muted downstrokes on “Coma City,” and the Blur-indebted riff that opens “Living in the ’20s.” The band is eager to honor its influences—Saviors, recorded in London, has a cover that might recall a famous UK punk group. But it often feels like Green Day are pantomiming some other band rather than embracing the three-piece rapport that made their early records so maddeningly catchy. Bassist Mike Dirnt is barely audible in the mix and Tré Cool’s drumming remains perfectly proficient, keeping time and nothing more.
Green Day used to be kind of transgressive: proud stoners when weed was still anti-establishment, self-aware pranksters in a scene that took itself deadly seriously. On Saviors, their politics are milquetoast at best and dubiously reactionary at worst. Armstrong wrote opener “The American Dream Is Killing Me” around the time the band was recording Father of All Motherfuckers, but thought the song might be too much of a lightning rod in an already polarized country. Who can say if things would have gone differently had the world heard “Don’t want no huddled masses/TikTok and taxes” back in the Trump era? Within the contemporary political moment, his observations are quaint and overly broad: “People on the street/Unemployed and obsolete,” he laments on Saviors’ first song. Elsewhere, it’s hard to tell if he’s for or against enhanced policing (“Coma City”) or anti-racism (“Strange Days Are Here to Stay”). It’s a blessing that in 46 minutes Armstrong never sings the word “woke.”
These days, Green Day interviews exude a sense of pride and acceptance: No, they’re not going to retread the Imagine Dragons DayGlo synths of Father of All Motherfuckers; they’re here to make rock’n’roll history! But with that comes complacency. Stripped of the urge to reinvent themselves, Green Day hope to ride into the sunset as America’s most affable punks. Even the album’s one sincere stab at acting the band’s age, a reflection on parenthood called “Father to a Son,” seems to give up halfway through, content to repeat its title rather than dig deeper. It’s a shame to see them trade in the legacy of their best work while repeating themselves as farce.
CORRECTION: An earlier version of this review incorrectly stated that, prior to Saviors, Rob Cavallo last worked with Green Day on 2004’s American Idiot. The producer worked with the band on a trio of 2012 studio albums.
