Arising from the sectarian Berkeley Calif., hardcore scene, Green Day came to be

some six years ago. Originally, the group consisted of two old friends who had grown

up together in the small, working-class Northern California town of Rodeo -- guitarist

and vocalist Billie Joe Armstrong and bassist Mike Dirnt (nee Pritchard) -- and a

short-lived drummer by the name of Al Sobrante (a/k/a John Kiftmeyer). The name

Green Day was taken from the title of a song about smoking marijuana by an earlier

Dirnt-Armstrong ensemble called Sweet Children.

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Change came rather quickly to this seminal lineup with the sacking of

Sobrante/Kiftmeyer in 1990 and the addition of new tub=thumper, Tre Cool (though

not before the original band made two recordings: an EP entitled "1,000 Hours" and an

LP, "39/Smooth," both released on local East Bay punk label Lookout! Records.)

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Cool -- born Frank Edwin Wright III -- grew up in Willits, Calif., in remote

Mendocino County, where his neihbor happened to be Lawrence Livermore, leader of

the punk band the Lookouts and also the eventual founder of Lookout! Records. At

the tender age of 12, Wright was recruited to play drums in the Lookouts -- at which

point Livermore rechristened him Tre Cool. After five years, and countless hours, spent

on the East Bay scene with the Lookouts, Cool joined Green Day. Two years later, in

1992, Green Day, now sporting the lineup which it does today, released its second

Lookout! LP, "Kerplunk."

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Although they were still relatively unkown, Green Day began touring extensively -- with

Tre Cool's father at the helm of their van. Eventually, their tenacious will to tour and

their spiky, catchy and short punk-derived songs impressed label reps from Reprise

Records enough for them to get signed to that label in April of 1993.

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On Jan. 11, 1994, Green Day's third LP, and major label debut, "Dookie" -- slang for

feces -- was released on an unsuspecting public. With its winning combination of short,

sharp songs, and with the help of equally witty MTV videos, "Dookie" went on to sell 8

million copies (the album also went to No. 2 on the Billboard Top 200 albums chart

and remains on that chart to this day.

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The band was feted with more than just album sales, though -- awards piled up as well.

"Dookie" won the 1995 Grammy Award for "Best Alternative Music Performance,"

and the band was nominated in the "Best New Artist" category while their song

"Basket Case" was nominated for "Best Rock Performance by a Duo or Group With&127;

"Vocal" and "Longview" was nominated for "Best Hard Rock Performance." In addition

to a major world tour, the band also appeared at the giant Woodstock '94 festival,

where their near incitement of a mudslingling riot among festival- goers was cited as a

high point of the weekend.

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In the midst of all this vertigo-inducing euphoria, some major changes took place in the

band members lives. For a start, Armstrong and Cool married their girlfriends and

proceeded to procreate, resulting in the arrival of Armstrong's son Joey and Cool's

daughter Ramona earlier this year. They also fired their management company,

ostensibly over a mishap involving the early release to radio of a Green Day song from

a movie soundtrack -- the band now manages itself.

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No matter, though. With the arrival of "Insomniac," on Oct. 10 1995, it was quite clear that

Green Day are more than capable of both surviving the pressures of success and

continuing to craft sneering pop-punk songs that go down easier than the

cherry-flavored cough syrup the band probably used to get high off of just two years

ago in Berkeley.

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Grand Olympic Auditorium, Los Angeles, California (12/13/95)

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Sitting among the thousands at the Olympic Auditorium were a

ten-year-old boy, his friend, and his mom. It seems the boy was

awarded cash for getting As in school and, in turn, purchased three

tickets to Green Day's second Southern California show. He insisted

that his mom bring him to this ancient boxing auditorium in a gritty

neighborhood south of downtown Los Angeles, on a school night, to

see his favorite band. When the lights dim and the Berkeley band

begins its 50 minutes of punk adrenaline, the boys rush to the balcony

railing and are instantly overcome by the epileptic frenzy that has

plagued every kid saved by rock 'n' roll from day one. Surrounding

them are an assortment of music fans: older (30-ish!) couples casually

digging the roar, snacking on popcorn and beer; frat bros acting out

mosh-pit glory, and burners in Skynyrd T-shirts doing their best

air-guitar. Yes, punk rock has reached the masses.

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So let's dispense with all this talk about what punk rock once was,

how it once shocked the mainstream with its amorality, its anarchical

agenda, and its apocalyptic, physical aggression. That was then.With

a call-and-response middle finger-waving (the punk-meets-arena rock

means of generation audience participation), Green Day repeatedly

hit upon the generic youthful woes of boredom and hatred for authority

and conformity. Over-caffeinated lead singer Billie Joe's simulations

of masturbation prompted the same passionate response as "We love

you, Los Angeles" might have at a Cheap Trick concert fifteen years ago.

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As a unit, the band is ultra-tight, and display an impressive ability to

extract the most out of three chords in three minutes--there's a reason

why "Longview," "Basket Case," and the newer "Geek

Stink Breath" sounded glorious at the Olympic: they're so damn catchy.

Add a little well-honed anger to the mix and it makes for the perfect combination.

Sure it's one dimensional, and there may not be enough to Green Day's formulaic

approach to keep those disparate audiences interested for the long haul, but for

now it's no wonder they rule the roost.

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