25 Years of Warning: Green Day’s Underlooked Classic
Graphic by Emma Novy
On Oct. 3, 2000, Green Day released their sixth studio album Warning to critical and commercial disinterest. While 1.2 million copies sold sounds successful in today’s streaming economy, the album represented a massive falloff from the band’s cultural ubiquity across the mid-1990s with Dookie, Insomniac and Nimrod.
The critics were equally unkind, with many taking offense to the pivot to folkier textures and earnest maturity, especially for a band championed for their snotty edginess. Such reception was likely hampered by a shared release day with Radiohead’s Kid A, a project that made every rock critic & indie hipster drop to their knees upon first listen.
Considering how I constantly wear a Green Day jacket with this album’s logo embroidered on it (to the extent I’m recognized merely by my outfit like it's some permanent costume), it should come as no surprise that I adore this album.
Unlike many cult favorites, explaining why it’s fantastic isn’t tied to some overlooked grand artistic statement. Simply put, Green Day released a bright, folk-adjacent pop rock album filled with sharp, emotionally earnest lyricism and jaded “Xennial” critics missed their little edgy punk rockers.
The album also followed the artistic progression from 1997’s “Nimrod” in regards to instrumental experimentation, with each unique genre stab working out exceptionally. “Blood, Sex, and Booze” is a fantastic bass-heavy track that served as my earliest exposure to BDSM at age 12.
This album also includes the midtempo, gothic cabaret-inspired “Misery”, a bizarre cut that reminds me of “The Nightmare Before Christmas” in the best way. Traditional pop-rock “loud-soft dynamic” cuts benefit from unique instrumental flourishes, be it the harmonica found on “Hold On,” the honest-to-god saxophone solo on “Jackass” or the beautifully kitsch usage of sleigh bells on “Deadbeat Holiday.”
The project is phenomenally paced, with the smart decision to place its biggest singles (“Waiting”, “Minority”, and “Macy’s Day Parade”) as the closing tracks rather than frontloading the album and killing the momentum.
There’s an infectious energy to the album’s best moments that are impossible to deny. “Church On Sunday” is an early album gem, often cited by hardcore fans as one of their greatest, and for good reason. It contains some of Armstrong’s greatest writing on earnest yet cheerful relationship melodrama, while kicking tons of folk-punk ass.
“Castaway”, the band’s greatest song, has surf-rock inspirations, the tradeoff between bass and guitar leads and trademark sharp writing courtesy of Billie Joe makes for an absolutely exceptional cut. I recognize that calling “Warning” underappreciated isn’t as mold-breaking as it used to be back in the early aughtsThat being said, the album has always been a personal favorite of mine—including some of the band’s best ever instrumental palettes, hooks and lyrical flips.
With its recently celebrated 25th anniversary—which culminated in a deluxe reissue dropped on Nov. 14, including remasters, demos, and a full 2001 Tokyo concert live-recording. I hope many rediscover “Warning” and give it the flowers it rightly deserved back in 2000. If it’s still underappreciated even to this day, than I’ll just have to find comfort in being the minority… “I DON’T NEED YOUR AUTHORIT–” you get the point.