When Blink-182 released California back in 2016, it was as divisive as a modern-day election. There were cries to ‘cancel’ the band from Tom-devotees (still are), there were Alkaline Trio die-hards complaining about a presumed lack of influence from Matt Skiba on the songwriting. The record as a whole was released with a relatively lukewarm reception, despite there being an equal amount of people thrilled that Blink was finally back and seemingly stable again. I, for one, was in the latter camp. Save for a few too many na-na’s and some questionable production choices, the record was a perfect return to form for a band that inspired me to pick up a guitar at the turn of the century.
Fast forward to today. To say I was nervous for Nine would be an understatement. The singles the band put out ahead of its release – with the exception of the excellent, Skiba-led ‘Darkside’ – were mediocre at best as one-offs. Each one sounded like a different version of a washed-up band trying to prove their relevance in a production dominated, post-TRL world. ‘I Really Wish I Hated You’ in particular may be the worst song the band has ever released, and this from a band that put out a song called ‘When You Fucked Grandpa’ back in their heyday. All that aside, I gave them the benefit of the doubt as one should when it comes to a band who helped define your adolescence. And thank goodness I did, because this book is so much more interesting than its cover hinted at.
It was teased that their new record would lean in a similar direction to their highly-revered, self-titled record. Seems pretty off base on the surface, but as you get further along in the sequence, you start to realise what they meant. The songwriting here is branching out in ways that it hasn’t since 2003. It’s darker, there’s more risk-taking. They’ve taken the constructive criticisms from California by doing away with the excessive na-na’s and group vocals, and have leaned a bit more into Skiba’s Alkaline Trio roots. There are even a few moments on Nine when Blink tap into some previously unrealised influences from radio bands like Linkin Park, which isn’t nearly as strange as it sounds.
All of this is wildly successful. Even the lyrics – some of them, anyways – have more thought and substance than ever before, which yes, is a pretty low bar to have set. But still, “angel wings at the bus stop” may be the most powerful line Mark’s ever written (second only perhaps to “there’s something about you I just can’t put my finger in,” because that’s some Harvard-level shit right there). In the midst of all of this are the elements that make Blink… well… Blink. They’ve still got the best drummer in the game, and have an undeniable knack for writing choruses that burrow their way into your brain like a friendly little gopher. So don’t worry, not everything’s changed.
Blink-182 has always been pretty easy to make fun of, but they were so endearing at being goofy you had to laugh with them, not at them. And when your most iconic video features you streaking through the streets of California, it’s going to be hard to outrun that, nude or not. But it’s been twenty years (!), and maybe we should start assessing Blink-182 by more than their ridiculous dick jokes and envelope-pushing music videos. Above all else, a lot can happen to a body in twenty years – I assure you no one wants to see another ‘What’s My Age Again?’ in 2019. The bottom line is there’s a lot more depth to Blink-182 than we typically give them credit for; Nine is a perfect reminder that the band does, in fact, take themselves seriously, even if they didn’t always. I guess this is growing up.
Haiku Review
Blink One-Eighty-Two
No longer want to shag dogs,
And I’m fine with that.
Listen to Blink-182 on Spotify and Apple Music.
