THE OFFSPRING
Ixnay On The Hombre
(Epitaph)

This is all Malcolm McLaren's fault. Or John Lydon's. Or Eddie bloody Tenpole's. Someone, somewhere, must be made to pay. In all fairness, maybe we should point the finger at that interfering tights-wearing loser Christopher Columbus. If Columbus hadn't got his A-To-Z upside down, America might still be populated by Wile E Coyote, Little Plum and Chip'n'Dale instead of moronic, inbred, white-bread teenagers who think the solution to their meaningless trailer park existence is something called 'punk rock'.

Because it is most certainly America's collective failure to Get Punk that has brought us to the comedy plastic dog turd that is The Offspring's cripplingly easy second album. Far too preoccupied with supergluing their mohicans and gobbing in each other's mouths, the colonial version of punk completely missed the art-school irony that gave punk its vague 'meaning' and went straight to the teachings of Captain Sensible and Wattie out of The Exploited. Consequently, The Offspring are the retarded, reactionary sons of the revolution; Sniffin' Glue: the second generation. Even worse, it's like the two years between Offspring's debut 'Smash' and 'Ixnay...' never happened. Good news for 2Pac obviously, but terrible news for everyone else because it means more nasal vocals from Dexter Holland, more Chas & Dave knees-up thrashalongs from, erm, Noodles and yes, more lyrical abominations that approximate Harry Enfield's Little Brother petulantly yelling, "It's so UNFAIR! I HATE you!" The messages, such as they are, range from, "If you want/Go on and stare/'Cos we don't CARE" ('Me And My Old Lady'), via, "I hate everything/I even hate me too" ('Cool To Hate') to the Pulitzer Prize-winning, "Back off your rules/Back off your jive" ('All I Want'). Niiiice.

The Offspring only leave their comfy 'Green Day played faster and without the tunes' formula with the Bon Jovi-esque power ballad 'Gone Away' which struggles noisily with the concept of love and decides, "It stings", and the cod-reggae of 'Don't Pick It Up', a moving tale about the dangers of, well, eating dog shit. These men, remember, are nearing 30.

Basically, The Offspring are telling us, "Here's the bad news: you think you're unhappy, poor and abused now? Well it's all downhill from here, youngfellamelad! The good news? Well, it's not your fault! It's your parents' fault. And soon you'll be like them too! Hooray!"

Not that The Offspring's crime is being pessimistic; you'd hardly expect a balding man called Noodles to lead The Kids to salvation. No, their crime is that their music sucks like an industrial Hoover. Luckily, in the disclaimer at the start of the record, embarrassed party guest Jello Biafra says, "If it offends you/Just don't listen to it." Phew. That's us off the hook then.

Rating: 2/10

By John Perry, from NME - February 1, 1998