Nottingham, England - Rock City
January 12, 1999



The Offspring Take Off In The UK

THE OFFSPRING, Sprung Monkey, Caffeine
Rock City, Nottingham
Tuesday, January 12, 1999
Rating 5/5

Anyone rubbing their hands at the supposed demise of SoCal-style punk rock should have witnessed the crowd here tonight. Rock City is as full as it can possibly be. The noise of the crowd is almost drowned out by the jangle of wallet chains as people drift from the bar to the dance floor. Combat trousers and big shorts are the order of the day, and a handful of Nottingham's old school punks have spiked up their mohawks especially for the occasion. As with Green Day's sold-out shows last year, The Offspring's first UK tour in support of 'Americana' is a wildly successful affair that comes with a tangible whiff of excitement and anticipation.

For Caffeine, this is both good news and bad. Good because they get to play to a large, ready-made crowd. Bad because said crowd are here to see only one band. Caffeine's claim to be 'the UK's number one punk band' may be premature, but their energetic, riff-driven thrashings do deserve better than constant chants for the headliners.

San Diego's Sprung Monkey fare little better, partly because their sound is so far from that of your typical pop-punk reprobates. A more rolling groove - funked up hardcore with a hip-hop vibe - it's pleasantly weighty but doesn't deliver that instant hooky hit. The main beef detractors have with the whole skate-punk movement that it's shallow, frivolous and dumb. It often is, of course, but that's half the attraction. The other half is the unbridled energy and exuberant sense of fun.

All of which the Offspring have in abundance. As 'All I Want' makes its frantic, guitar happy journey from amp to ear, the audience transforms itself into one big grinning, bouncing mass. Few prospective divers make it to the stage thanks to the over-enthusiastic security, but dozens of pairs of feet point resolutely towards the sky. It's boisterous, certainly, but good natured too.

'Walla Walla' and 'The Meaning of Life' keep the energy levels soaring, all frenetic pace, buzzing guitars and roughshod terrace hooks. "Shall we play a fast one now?" grins newly guitar-handed vocalist Dexter Holland during the brief between song lull. Holland himself would be the first to admit that he doesn't possess a full operatic range, but his distinctively flat voice suits the music perfectly, and he makes an engagingly charismatic frontman. Unfortunately, he's hampered by his new found role as The Offspring's second guitarist. This is a bad move: he has little discernible effect on the density of the band's sound, but it does prevent the vocalist from flinging himself around the stage like an agitated whippet for too much of the set.

Not that this audience would be likely to give a flying one if he walled himself in behind a bank of giant bongos. New single Pretty Fly (for a white guy), - basically this year's Come Out and Play - simultaneously triggers a wave of delirium and proves that The Offspring are no one-trick pony. As well as the fast song, their repertoire also includes the medium paced song and the novelty song. Not exactly stretching the boundaries of music as we know it, granted, but then no one here tonight was crossing their fingers for a lengthy passage of experimental acid jazz. And why should they change a formula that obviously works?

And so we get the gloriously sweary chant in the middle of 'Bad Habit'. We get another energy rush in 'Cool To Hate' and the novelty calypso in 'Why don't you get a job?'. And then we get the cheese laden Intermission from Ixnay On the Hombre' and... bubbles. Not to mention confetti. Depraved punk legend GG Allin used to shower his audience with excrement: The Offspring tickle us with bubbles. Maybe that says something - but Allin was shite anyway, and I know which I'd rather have... The user-friendly punk rush continues with the likes of 'Self Esteem' and 'Gotta Get Away' before finally ending with 'Nitro' and another hail of confetti. Offspring fan Rick Reeder is in no doubt of the Californian's greatness, despite having received a broken nose in the melee at the front of the stage. "That," he beams from behind his mushed face, "was just brilliant." And why argue with him?

By Paul Travers, from "Kerrang!" magazine - January 1999