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Los Angeles Times
21-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Los Angeles Times
After 25 years, Punk Rock Bowling still strikes hard with the spirit of rebellion
Brothers Shawn and Mark Stern were already veteran punk rockers when they first started Punk Rock Bowling 25 years ago. But they had no idea they were in the midst of a seminal moment by launching what would soon become one of the biggest, longest-running and most important annual events the genre has ever seen. While they might be best known for forming multiple L.A. punk bands (the biggest of which being Youth Brigade) starting in the late '70s, the Stern brothers were also responsible for BYO Records, 1984's 'Another State of Mind' tour documentary with Social Distortion, a short-lived but influential Hollywood punk house called Skinhead Manor and a host of other DIY punk rock undertakings. So when Andre Duguay, a BYO employee at the time, suggested the duo start a bowling league for SoCal punk rockers in the late '90s, it made too much sense for them to pass up. What started as a bowling night (at Santa Monica's now-defunct Bay Shore Lanes) for local bands, labels and zines eventually grew to a weekend of partying in Las Vegas for the Sterns' punk rock friends all over the region. Throughout the 2000s, the event remained primarily focused on bowling and debauchery over President's Day weekend, but 2010 brought it to a new location that contained a huge outdoor space, opening up the possibility for a full music festival and rapidly turning it into a Memorial Day staple for punk fans around the world. But no matter how big Punk Rock Bowling has gotten, Shawn Stern has always made sure it's kept its community-first ethos. 'We arrange [Punk Rock Bowling] as musicians first, so we look at this as, 'If I go see bands, I want to have a good time,'' Stern says from the dining table of his Venice Beach home. The Sterns set out to create something that was the antithesis of the big corporate festival, where everything's overpriced and it's super packed. 'They're not trying to make this a communal experience of having a good time and enjoying the music and the message,' he said. 'It goes back to pagan times when we'd get together for the harvest and feasting. Humans don't really need much reason to get together and party, and this is our alternative to religion.' Despite leaving Los Angeles for Sin City decades ago, Punk Rock Bowling maintains its SoCal roots year after year. Not only is Mark Stern back as the festival's official booker this year alongside his brother, but both the lineup and audience always contains a heavy California presence. From legends like Social Distortion and FLAG to modern stars like FIDLAR and the Interrupters (all of whom are performing this year), the Stern brothers always make sure that multiple generations of their local scene is represented at the festival — and not just because it's the community they grew up in. Stern and his crew were surfers who got into punk rock because it was that sort of revolutionary music that the '70s no longer had. 'As much as I love Jimi Hendrix and saw a bunch of big concerts like Led Zeppelin, that music didn't really speak to what I was feeling. As soon as the [Vietnam War] was over, that music became co-opted by big corporate labels.' Instead, Stern and his friends would hang out in the very small punk scene in Hollywood while all the bands were coming out of New York and the UK. The scene was very close-knit, and they didn't have any pretension of getting signed to a major label or anything. Though it was totally grassroots, they knew that when the surfers really started getting into it, it was going to explode. 'In those days, there were certain rebellious things with surfing that would work well with punk rock,' he said. 'That's what happened in the early '80s, and it's changed a lot since then, but it's just kept growing.' Perhaps more than any other genre, the evolution of punk rock (both in Los Angeles and around the world) is never more apparent than in the age range of bands at music festivals. This year at Punk Rock Bowling, not only will the Stern brothers be performing in their mid-60s with Youth Brigade, but some of the British artists that preceded them like the Damned and Cock Sparrer will be gracing the stage alongside great modern artists who could be their grandchildren (like the Bay Area's Spiritual Cramp). And yet the fans — from teenagers to senior citizens — will flood the Downtown Las Vegas Events Center for them regardless of generation. That cross-generational appeal isn't found in a lot of other genres, but it's a distinction that Shawn Stern believes punk rock shares with one of its ancestors. 'It's all just folk music — protest music,' he says. 'A lot of people try to rewrite history as though somehow punk rock's not political, and I call bullshit. Punk rock for me has always been political and it always will be. That's really what makes this music last, and it's also what makes the blues last.' The music still reaches out to people, regardless of age, Stern said. 'The words that I was singing in 1980 are just as relevant now, if not more so. ... Sure, some bands that are considered punk rock just write poppy love songs — which is fine if that's what you're into — but that's probably why I don't really like some of that pop-punk and emo stuff.' As long as Stern is involved, Punk Rock Bowling will always keep that lineage of resistance. Particularly with today's political climate, the lifelong punk sees his platform as an artist and a festival host as a crucial way to remind everyone to stand up against authoritarianism and fascism even if it's not directly affecting you and your surroundings just yet. 'We were writing about Reagan [in the '80s], and now we've got someone who's much worse than Reagan ever could have been,' he said. Stern has already seen international bands have newfound trouble flying in and out of the U.S. this year, and as a Jewish immigrant from Canada, he's taking the current situation quite seriously. 'I think it's important for everybody that listens to punk rock and comes to Punk Rock Bowling to remember that every day you have to question everything and fight against the authoritarian bent that this country is on,' Stern said. 'They're disappearing people in the streets, and that may not be you right now, but if you don't stand up for those people, it could be you or someone you love in the future. A lot of my mother's family died in concentration camps, so you don't think it could happen to you or you always wonder what you would have done — I'm not saying we're facing that yet, but I think we're pretty close. But if enough people stand together, we can stop this — and I think the community of punk rock is just carrying on that tradition of protest from the beatniks and the hippies.'
Los Angeles Times
15-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Los Angeles Times
OC's original punks describe the birth of the world-famous ‘Orange County sound'
This excerpt is from Chapter 3 of 'Tearing Down the Orange Curtain: How Punk Rock Brought Orange County to the World,' out May 20 from Da Capo Press. The book explores the trajectory of punk and ska from their humble beginnings to their peak popularity years, where their cultural impact could be felt in music around the world. Delving deep into the personal and professional lives of bands including Social Distortion, the Adolescents, the Offspring and their ska counterparts No Doubt, Sublime, Reel Big Fish, Save Ferris and more, this book offers a look into the very human stories of these musicians, many of whom struggled with acceptance, addiction and brutal teenage years in suburbia. 'You'll have to ask the Agnews about that,' Social Distortion's Mike Ness said about the origins of what became known as the Orange County sound. The Agnews, Rikk, Frank, and Alfie, were the sons of a disciplinarian Irish father who worked for SoCal Gas and a Mexican mother. They grew up in La Puente before moving to Fullerton when Rikk, the oldest of the three, was in sixth grade. Richard Francis Agnew was born December 9, 1958, Francis Thomas Agnew followed in 1964, and Alfonso Agnew arrived January 24, 1969. Despite the ten-year gap between the oldest Agnew and the youngest (with a sister born in between Rikk and Frank), they were all pretty close and bonded through music. Rikk's musical journey started before he picked up a pencil. At the age of four, he was given his first drum kit. Instantly, he realized that he had a natural sense of rhythm. The Agnews' maternal grandfather was a drummer and had become known in the Latin scene in California for his work with Xavier Cugat and the Latinaires, so rhythm was already in the family's DNA. Citing the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Beach Boys, and Motown as early influences, Rikk would bang his drums while their father strummed along with his acoustic guitar and sometimes improvised songs that Rikk would play along to. Rikk remembers coming home from school and strumming heavy, pissed-off chords on a family guitar. It began a lifelong love of playing music. 'He [Rikk] was obsessed with the Beatles, in the '70s it was prog rock, by the mid-'70s it was Kraftwerk and electro imports from Europe. What was neat about Rikk was that he was always looking for something new, he was always fascinated by new music,' Frank said. Naturally, Frank and Alfie were Rikk's first co-conspirators and were also musically inclined. The Agnew boys jammed the instruments that were present around the house. Frank started playing before he was ten, and just like Rikk, he was musically gifted. 'Immediately, Frank was so f—ing good,' Rikk said. 'He could do Jimmy Page stuff when he was a fifth grader. Alfie was in second grade at that point. And the two of them would go in the garage and rehearse Led Zeppelin songs.' 'None of us was a good skateboarder,' Frank said. 'So we stuck with the instruments.' When the Ramones' debut album came out in April 1976, Rikk was immediately hooked on the raw, aggressive sound, black leather jackets, and tough-guy swagger from the Queens-bred quartet. 'I remember I had gotten birthday money and was planning to buy a Foghat album but Rikk and his friends convinced me to buy the Ramones album, instead,' Frank said. Obliging his older brother, Frank used his cash to buy the seminal punk rock vinyl. He and his brothers huddled around the record player and dropped the needle. Frank's reaction was . . . not very positive. 'At first I was like 'what the hell's this?' I was used to listening to Sabbath and the prog rock stuff, and at first I didn't like the Ramones, the songs were fast, short, and noisy.' But for some reason the tunes got stuck in Frank's head. Listening again and again, he eventually grew to love it, not only for the melodies and the style but because of how accessible it was. The ability to be in a band and play a few chords inspired the Agnews and many other kids growing up in the era of often complicated, overinflated virtuoso rock 'n' roll to feel like they too could be onstage without putting in ten years of lessons. However, that jolt of youth culture and passion for music didn't translate with their neighbors. They often complained about the noise emanating from the Agnews' garage. 'The lady who lived next door would get all pissed off and come over and threaten to call the cops,' Rikk said. 'She said 'Stop making that noise' and we kept saying 'It's not noise, it's music!'' The brothers' intricate blend of influences combined with their natural ability would shape the sound of their bands in the years to come. 'People were calling him [Rikk] the Brian Wilson of punk,' future bandmate Steve Soto told OC Weekly. 'And he was.' 'I could hear an 'Orange County sound' starting to identify itself amid the SoCal punk scene,' early Social Distortion drummer Derek O'Brien said. 'Elements of surf guitar and drums, certainly with Agent Orange but others like the Adolescents, D.I., Channel 3, and the Crowd also. Then you had rough but still actually melodic lead vocals as opposed to just yelling, two-part guitar, two-part melodies where one or both would play the melodies with octaves and the backup vocal harmonies soaring with or around the lead vocal.' Punk roared out of London and New York in 1976 before making its way out west not too long after. First in Los Angeles, by the time the sound trickled past the Orange Curtain, which was the not-so-flattering nickname Angelenos gave to the county directly to the south, it gained its own flavor. Impressionable young punkers, who came from broken homes that fit outside of the idealistic nature of the Reagan presidency, were influenced by British bands like the Sex Pistols and the Damned. It could be heard in the voices of the emerging singers. 'Your punk band sings in an English accent,' the Vandals bassist Joe Escalante said. 'That's what we do. You might be able to make your own style, but you start there.' In bands like Huntington Beach's T.S.O.L., Fullerton's Adolescents, and Social Distortion, traces of those British bands can be heard. Escalante points to T.S.O.L.'s 'World War III' as the prime example. 'That's our leader in Orange County, Jack Grisham, telling us how to do what we need to do,' Escalante continued on a podcast. 'We're not going to argue with that.' Looking back at his first time singing, Escalante remembers the Vandals singer Dave Quackenbush telling him that he sounded like a 'Republican who sounded like they just got out of a John Birch Society meeting.' From there, he went with an English accent himself before incorporating some of his own natural style. When all of this adds up, it becomes clear that the brand of punk that broke through in the 1990s could be traced back to its origins in Orange County. Many of the early bands' sound had a preciseness to it and a simultaneous lack of pretension. 'I believe that the California punk sound came from Orange County,' NOFX front man Fat Mike said. Born Mike Burkett, the singer was first introduced to punk by his camp counselor, who just so happened to be the Vandals' Joe Escalante. Even in a major city like Seattle, where Guns N' Roses bassist Duff McKagan grew up a thousand miles away, the sound of Southern California punk was echoing into the consciousness of punk social circles. 'We were aware of what they were doing—and why,' McKagan said. 'Even though in Seattle where we didn't have suburbs, we envisioned these punks from sprawling suburbs whose parents were Reagan conservatives and these kids were rebelling against it. We got it. Could we fully identify with it? Not really. But we knew what they were about.' Fullerton had the fortune of being the home of Fender. Leo Fender's factory often discarded guitars that they deemed unusable. For the locals who couldn't afford one of his instruments, dumpster diving to obtain a guitar was frequent and critical. These discarded guitars found a new home, often in the hands of young punks. It was the literal embodiment of 'one person's trash is another's treasure.' In addition to being the home of Fender, Fullerton was also the place where many families moved in search of the ideal, pleasantville life depicted as the American dream. The area was gentrified by tract homes where nuclear families would settle. By the 1970s, that dream vanished for many disaffected youths, and a new scene emerged that many in the community would instantly hate. Jackson is a deputy editor for entertainment at The Times.
Los Angeles Times
14-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Los Angeles Times
Little Steven's Underground Garage Cruise proves you can rock the boat
Imagine you're on a cruise ship for a four-day excursion to the Bahamas. You've got your swimsuit, an adult beverage, and you're ready to relax. As you make your way to the pool deck, you're hit with the sound of distorted guitars and in-your-face vocals as legendary L.A. punk band X rips through 'Johnny Hit and Run Paulene.' That was the scene on Little Steven's Underground Garage Cruise, which set sail from Miami on May 9-13 on board Norwegian Cruise Lines' Norwegian Gem, and the 1,800 or so passengers were in punk rock heaven. The lineup featured an array of SoCal-based bands, including Social Distortion, L7, Rocket From the Crypt, the Lords of Altamont and the Dollyrots. They were joined by dozens of other performers across the rock 'n' roll spectrum, from the hard-stomping Fleshtones to the incorrigible Supersuckers, to Tommy Stinson's Bash & Pop, to the ageless Linda Gail Lewis — younger sister of music icon Jerry Lee Lewis. As John Doe of X said, 'bands you never thought you'd see on a boat.' The festival-at-sea concept isn't new. Sixthman, the company that ran the cruise, has been organizing festivals since 2001 and offers more than 25 curated cruise experiences. Upcoming sailings include Keeping the Blues Alive at Sea Alaska, Chef's Making Waves Boston, Rock the Bells Cruise and Headbangers Boat. In many ways, the first Little Steven's Underground Garage Cruise is an offshoot of Sixthman's Outlaw Country Cruise, which completed its ninth sailing earlier this year. It was a somewhat somber celebration because both its architect, SiriusXM's Jeremy Tepper, and its ambassador, Mojo Nixon, died suddenly in 2024. That cruise drew an eclectic mix of performers such as Steve Earle, Lucinda Williams and Dave Alvin, who share musical DNA with many of the artists on the Underground Garage Cruise and vice versa. For example, Alvin's former band the Blasters played alongside X during L.A.'s first wave of punk, and Social Distortion's Mike Ness was often in the front row watching them play. 'Jeremy and Mojo were incredibly close,' Alvin said. 'They were like soulmates in a weird way. Cultural, artistic soulmates.' One surprise guest on the Outlaw Country Cruise was Jello Biafra, who released the album 'Prairie Home Invasion' with Mojo Nixon in 1994. He played with Nixon's backing band the Toadliquors during an emotional tribute to his late friend. 'It's hard,' Biafra said, 'because there is a little bit of a pall over this whole event, because Mojo isn't here, and everybody's got their memories bubbling up. I have plenty of that.' Many of the performers, including some who'd never taken a cruise before, had reservations about what the Underground Garage Cruise would be like. 'I thought there was going to be a lot of crazy drunkenness,' said Donita Sparks of L7. 'I was thinking it was a booze cruise, but I haven't seen a whole lot of that. I haven't seen a single fight. I've seen people laughing and hugging and rocking out to the music. I've just seen a lot of joyousness.' John Reis, vocalist and guitarist of Rocket From the Crypt, was concerned about seasickness and feeling 'trapped' but neither proved to be an issue, and he found it easy to 'succumb to the vibe.' 'We don't take certain things all that seriously,' Reis said of Rocket From the Crypt, 'and festivals can be very regimented. There's often a lot of stress involved, mainly with the people putting on the shows. The cruise isn't like that at all. It's way more casual.' Even Ness of Social Distortion was seemingly won over by the cruising lifestyle. 'Ease into the day, do what you want. No traffic, no hassles,' Ness said from the stage. Punks of a certain age are all too familiar with the phenomenon of looking forward to a show but, once it's time to actually leave the house, losing all enthusiasm to drive across town, find parking and wait for opening bands to wrap up their sets. On the Underground Garage Cruise, all shows are a short walk away and run from an hour to an hour and fifteen minutes. No openers. No encores. Although some shows overlap, unlike most festivals, the bands play several times throughout the course of the cruise. So if you missed a band's performance on the spacious pool deck, you could catch them later at the 850-seat Stardust Theater or one of the more intimate lounges that provide a clublike setting. That means you can choose where and when you want to see the band — even early in the afternoon. 'We've been doing this a long time,' Eddie Spaghetti of the Supersuckers told the crowd at the band's 1:15 p.m. gig. 'But never this early,' quipped bandmate 'Metal' Marty Chandler. Performers participated in events offstage as well: autograph signings, a wine tasting with the Dictators, a poker tournament with the Slim Jim Phantom Trio and interview sessions that will eventually make their way to the Little Steven's Underground Garage channel on SiriusXM. An interview with Mike Ness ended with a surprise short set by Social Distortion, accompanied by keyboardist Ben Alleman on the accordion. There are, of course, drawbacks to the cruise experience. If you're not having a good time at a festival, you can always leave and go home. Obviously, you can't do that on a cruise ship. There are also larger concerns with the cruise industry itself, from the impact these behemoth ships have on the environment to the low wages paid to foreign workers, who do the bulk of the cooking and cleaning. John Doe said he was conflicted about the gig. 'As you grow up, you do things for love or money, right? This is for money. But I love the band X.' Then there's the elephant in the room: the perception that cruises aren't for kids; they're for elderly people. A lot of these old punks are, well, old. And if you were in the pit with bands like X, Social Distortion and L7 when they were first making waves, then so are you. That's not necessarily a bad thing. 'Rock 'n' roll is like jazz now,' said Eddie Spaghetti. 'Essentially, it's become a niche art form for older people because most kids don't like rock 'n' roll anymore.' As fans age, their bodies may break down but their passion for the music of their youth remains the same. But a lot of music fans, this writer included, deal with disability, health and/or mobility issues that can put a damper on the typical festival experience. Sixthman, however, excelled at making sure every passenger felt welcome. For instance, all of the venues on the Underground Garage Cruise had an abundance of ADA seating, with staff designated to assist those who requested it. One staff member I spoke with told me she scans the crowds during the shows and looks for people who might benefit from extra assistance. That kind of personal attention goes a long way toward explaining why fans, performers and staff members alike think of these cruises as a community. There's a camaraderie on these trips that you won't find at your typical festival. The people you meet at the show aren't just festivalgoers; they're your neighbors and sometimes your breakfast companions. The intimidating-looking punk rocker covered in tattoos is a lot more approachable when eating pancakes with his partner at the buffet. This camaraderie isn't what leads most fans to sail on a music cruise, but it's one of the reasons they return year after year. During the Outlaw Country Cruise in February, passengers assembled for a group photo for those who'd sailed on all nine Outlaw Country Cruises. That camaraderie is important to the musicians too. Everyone I talked to raved about the shows they'd seen. Jonny Two Bags of Social Distortion told me that when he received the schedule, he highlighted the bands he wanted to see — just like any fan. He was especially excited to see Bash & Pop, who he'd played with in the early '90s. Donita Sparks of L7 had fond memories of playing with the Supersuckers in the early '90s. 'We used to sleep on the Supersuckers' floor in Seattle,' Sparks said, 'and we would have a dance party every night.' That excitement for what L7's Jennifer Finch called 'the buffet of bands' is infectious. It's also why Little Steven's Underground Garage Cruise will sail again next April, to Cozumel, Mexico. 'We're all alive,' Sparks said. 'We're here and we're still rocking.' Jim Ruland is the L.A. Times bestselling author of 'Corporate Rock Sucks: The Rise & Fall of SST Records' and of the novel 'Make It Stop.'
Los Angeles Times
07-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Los Angeles Times
Blink-182 saved Mark Hoppus' life when he had cancer. His new book helped him heal
It was September 2021 and Mark Hoppus had just completed six months of aggressive chemotherapy. Blink-182 had re-formed and the stars had aligned for Hoppus, guitarist Tom DeLonge — who had left the band in 2015 — and drummer Travis Barker after a tumultuous decade. Hoppus had been diagnosed with a type of non-Hodgkin lymphoma in June 2021, resulting in intensive treatment before he was declared cancer-free. To cope with the stress and exhaustion, his doctor suggested he write. What began as a form of therapy transformed into the book 'Fahrenheit-182,' which recounts his life, from a military kid to a punk-loving, skateboarding teenager to a rock star with millions of fans. In the memoir, the 53-year-old chronicles the devastating impact of his parents' divorce and falling in love with punk rock through bands including Social Distortion, Bad Religion, Dead Kennedys and NOFX. The real love story of 'Fahrenheit-182,' ultimately, is the trio behind Blink's success: Hoppus, DeLonge and Barker. Still, those relationships were tested and strained repeatedly, and in recalling those tribulations, Hoppus has tried to be empathetic with all involved. Hoppus says, 'It was really cathartic to write it all out and try to be fair to everybody in the book. My whole goal with the book was to not demonize anybody. I wanted there to be no villains in the book because, now that we've been through everything, I don't feel that there were villains. I feel like Blink-182 is a blessing.' He explains, 'When my cancer went into remission, and I felt like I had dodged a bullet, I wanted to tell the story of Blink-182 and not necessarily just my story, but the story of the band from somebody in the band. I love Tom and Travis so much, and everyone just wanted to tell our story as it is, up to now: all the highs, all the lows, the brotherhood, the friendships, everything.' He doesn't shy away from recounting breakups, makeups and legal and personal battles between the friends and bandmates, but there is a patina of sadness over these anecdotes, rather than bitterness or blame-laying. 'I had to write about things that Tom and I disagreed on back in the day, but I wanted to put his perspective fairly in it as well. And the same with Travis, and arguments we had as a band. It made me look at things that had defined my life in a different way, seeing arguments that we'd had from other people's perspective. It gave me a lot of closure on a lot of old animosities and grudges. It was very healing to write like that.' Hoppus has a knack for storytelling, which will come as no surprise to fans of the band's eminently quotable lyrics. Born in Oakland's Ridgemont neighborhood soon after it was developed as a suburb in 1970, Hoppus writes, 'To survive in the desert is a one-in-a-million shot. In this environment, nothing grows. Nothing lasts. Nothing makes it out or thrives. But somehow, I did. One-in-a-million happens to me all the time.' Hoppus was a top student and a high-achiever until his parents' divorce. It resulted in being bounced between his parents' various homes, getting accustomed to their new partners and often living apart from his beloved younger sister Anne. By 1992, the skateboarding, spiky-haired teenager finally listened to his parents' pleas and enrolled in college, which reunited him with his mother and Anne in San Diego. Having dabbled in various high school bands, Hoppus was determined to 'be a dude in a band. My friends and I against the world. Like a Ramone.' Anne's boyfriend introduced Hoppus to local guitarist DeLonge, who was equally determined to be a dude in a band. The two recruited a drummer who would ultimately be replaced by Barker in 1998 during the tour for the band's second album, 'Dude Ranch.' Hoppus recalls in the book, 'Tom and I became fast friends and bandmates. He had a whole social circle, a group of godless miscreant skate rats. These were my people. I fell right in. We spent those sweaty, carefree weeks terrorizing the unsuspecting residents of San Diego. We were young and stupid and unstoppable.' Blink-182 made its famed name on a brand of boyish, humor-laden punk songs that defied the grunge trend of the early 1990s to top Billboard charts and achieve platinum sales. The trio has ridden out more than three decades of personal and professional tumult; Hoppus and DeLonge's relationship was at times as rocky and passionate as a marriage. For decades, they lived out of touring vans and cramped roadside hotel rooms while riding the roller coaster of popularity, and bearing the brunt of record label demands, unpredictable audience responses and DeLonge's fascination for aliens and UFOs. When DeLonge started other bands, Box Car Racer in 2001 and Angels & Airwaves in 2005, it seemed destined that Blink-182 wouldn't survive the band's personal and professional divisions. Fans maintained their fervor regardless of Blink-182's internal friction. Teenagers who'd discovered the band on tiny stages in the back of bars or through word of mouth and cassette tapes at parties have stuck with the trio for decades, and Hoppus remains equally loyal to them. Hoppus says, 'From the very beginning, I used to have a P.O. box that people would send a self-addressed, stamped envelope to, and I would put stickers or, as a band, we'd make up some silly newsletter that we would mail out to people. We always sold our own merch at shows. I still have a Discord [a messaging and VoIP platform] that I hang out on almost every day and answer questions [from fans].' He adds, 'What I love about Blink is that there's no hierarchy between the band and the people who come see us play. I don't even like saying our 'fans' because I feel like Blink-182 is a big party and everyone's invited to it. And I love that people feel that kind of ownership of our music and our band.' It hasn't been smooth sailing in the music press though. Blink-182's humor has long rubbed some critics the wrong way, but it is the dismissal of the band's punk rock credibility that really infuriates Hoppus. In 2023, the Guardian sniped 'their shtick wears thin at times.' A year later, a reviewer described the band's closing set at Lollapalooza as 'cringe-worthy and repulsive.' Today, they're still unstoppable as a unit. Hoppus says, 'Blink-182 is the heart of all of us, and I think that over the past 15 years, from the band breaking up the first time until now, everybody's felt like they've had Blink taken from them in one way or another, and felt the loss of what Blink-182 is. It's made us realize the joy of our band, and this special chemistry that happens when the three of us get in a room together. When we're throwing ideas back and forth, and it's hitting, there's no feeling like it in the world. It's better than any drug. Walking out of a studio with a song that you love, that didn't exist the day before, is … unbelievable.' Released in 2023, the band's ninth album, 'One More Time…,' showcased the trio's signature blistering guitars, pummeling drums and songwriting prowess. It was the band's third chart-topping album, debuting at No. 1 on the Billboard 200 the week after its release. It was a triumph that the band hadn't achieved since 2001 with 'Take Off Your Pants and Jacket' and 1999's 'Enema of the State.' This time, chart-topping albums and touring aren't the discombobulating affair they were nearly 30 years ago, when their second album, 'Dude Ranch,' went gold. It passed the half-million sales mark within eight months of release and the band embarked on a relentless campaign to achieve worldwide recognition. Hoppus writes, 'We jumped on every tour and festival that came our way. Right after the album was released in June of '97, we spent another summer on the Warped Tour, then went right into a U.S. tour with Less Than Jake, then headed off to Europe for a month, then ended the year playing all the rock radio Christmas shows that record labels push you to do to supposedly help get your songs on the airwaves.' Soon after, loneliness and a sense of being unanchored led Hoppus to write 'Adam's Song' as he contemplated taking his own life. Its success was bittersweet and the rawness of the song hasn't dissipated with time. 'I have a very hard time with it,' he says. 'I wrote that song when I was in a really bad place. Our band was taking off and we were signed to a major label, but I felt really lonely when I got home from tour. I just was home by myself in an empty house, and feeling professionally fulfilled but personally empty in a lot of ways. When we got back together as a band, I would start the song every night of the tour by saying, 'I wrote this song back in the day when I was in a bad place, and it saved my life then. This band and Tom and Travis saved my life a second time when I was sick with cancer. So this song is about that feeling.' Hoppus sprinkles references to life-saving moments and his incredibly good luck throughout our interview and his book. Indeed, that fortuitous moment back in 2021, when the seed of 'Fahrenheit-182' was sown, was the beginning of so much, and the momentum hasn't ceased. Hoppus says that since the band reunited three years ago, 'there's no signs of stopping, so that's awesome. And this book isn't like my farewell. It's just a milestone marker.' Hoppus will be discussing 'Fahrenheit-182' at the Wiltern at 4 p.m. April 20 .
