Offspring Makes A "Smash"

They refused to keep 'em separated.

The Offspring smashed through the archaic walls separating punk and mainstream rock to prove that punk music could be popular.

With combined record sales surging well past 10 million, The Offspring and fellow punksters Green Day have led the new punk wave into American homes. Yet for members of the California-based The Offspring, fame was never a priority.

"We did this for 10 years without making money," says guitarist Kevin "Noodles" Wasserman. "We would save up our money and go out on tours during our vacation."

The roots of The Offspring were formed in the affluent community of Orange County, Calif., when high school pals Dexter Holland and Greg Kriesal decided to form a band - despite not being able to play instruments. They later hooked up with Wasserman and drummer Ron Welty.

The four teens shared a passion for punk music, found in other Orange County bands like the Adolescents and TSOL. For years, the quartet paid their dues. By day they worked as a janitor, behind the counter at a yogurt-and-muffin store, at a blueprint shop and even attended graduate school (vocalist Holland is on leave from USC where he is a graduate student of molecular biology). By night, the four toiled in small, dark clubs around the punk circuit.

Those days are over. The Offspring's independent album "Smash," carried by the hit singles "Come Out and Play," "Self Esteem" and "Gotta Get Away," has sold an unprecedented 7 million copies.

And even before "Smash" was released, The Offspring was at the center of a high-stakes bidding war between major records labels before deciding to stay with its independent label Epitaph Records, owned by Bad Religion's Brett Gurewitz.

"We really like the people at Epitaph. We like that they stand behind the bands that they sign," Wasserman says.

The big break came last year, during what's now referred to as the summer of punk. The Offspring was preparing to release "Smash," its second CD for Epitaph, when one of the songs was picked up by the influential Burbank, Calif. radio station KROQ. The song was "Come Out and Play"; its infectious catchline was "keep 'em separated" (a phrase often mistaken for the song's title). The Offspring was a hit.

"It was not supposed to happen," Wasserman says of the fame which he still calls "scary."

"It was really frightening, especially when we saw the record sales and the way the song kept climbing the charts. When we broke into the Top 200, we said 'no, this isn't happening.' Then it made dramatic jumps until it was in the Top 20, then Top 10. After awhile, I stopped looking at the charts. It was too weird and far beyond anyone's expectations."

While the recent success of punk bands like The Offspring and Green Day has clearly opened doors for other groups, Wasserman and his bandmates refuse to take any credit.

The current punk craze, he insists, is just the newest label to wear, something he says started with the popularity of grunge rock and Nirvana.

"Grunge became a label and people started to focus on these labels," Noodles says. "People are just looking for something new. And the punk thing is something different now. Next year, it will be something new."

But for members of The Offspring and other punk bands like Rancid and Bad Religion, punk isn't a passing phase. It's a lifelong passion. For Wasserman, it began even before he started playing guitar as a teen.

"It was so different than anything that was happening at that time," Wasserman recalls. "It was just blatant rebellion against everything. A lot of it was done with humor, a lot of it with just pure angst. I loved it.

"I still think it's the most real, most genuine form of music that is going on out there. I certainly think Green Day is that way."

He also shares some of the philosophies of punk rock with his young audience.

"Punk rock showed that anyone can do this, can do anything, whether it's in playing in a band or writing: Just do something creative," Wasserman says.

Now breaking out of the club scene and performing in bigger venues, members of The Offspring miss the intimacy and interaction with fans afforded by the smaller clubs.

"Obviously we're not gonna be able to get out there and say hi to everybody that comes to our shows. It's just impossible now," Wasserman says. "So we try to connect with as many as we can. Every once in a while you have a kid who comes up to you and there is this idolization thing. And we just try to talk to them and let them know, `hey, we just started out like you, slamming around in the pit.'

"That was the thing with punk rock. There was very little definition between who was playing guitar, bass and drums and who was doing the stage diving. There was a `coming together' and none of this idol worship or fan-band member thing that we're experiencing now."

Still, Wasserman is philosophical about it all.

"We never thought we'd ever get a chance to make a living doing what we're doing. And now we are. And it's exciting. I think it would be a waste not to accept this opportunity," he says, adding he still doesn't feel famous.

"And I don't feel like a rock star," Wasserman says. "And I hope that it never happens."

By Toni Ruberto, from Gannett News Service - June 23, 1995