The Hardest Working Band in Pissing You Off
Self Entitled by NOFX
I confess that I have no idea how to review a punk album. I mean, like, none. Really, how do you critique a music genre whose very existence is a form of rebellion against the entire idea of criticism? No other form of music–except for maybe gangsta rap–has proven to be such a pain in the ass for reviewers.
I will say, though, that I’ve never heard a punk band (and I’m talking real punk bands here, not the Fallout Boys and Blink 182s and Good Charlottes of the mainstream world; I mean those scuzzy don’t-give-a-fuck SoCal dudes) that didn’t sound like it enjoyed what it was doing. Case in point: NOFX. The California-based quartet, fronted by the amusingly profane Fat Mike, has been going strong for 30 years now, and yet if Self Entitled (Fat Wreck Chords) is any indication, they haven’t lost a step.
Nor have they aged artistically, which in the punk genre is a very good thing (generally). The album finds the band doing what they do best–being NOFX: loud, raunchy, obscene, childish, and undeniably fun. The album starts off with “72 Hookers,” a tongue-in-cheek criticism of Islamic fundamentalism. The solution isn’t war, Fat Mike suggests, it’s loosening the sexual restrictions on jihadists:
How many million men have been killed in foreign wars/ We need to reinstate the draft, enlist a million whores.
Start with sororities and all the spring breaks/ Ship the Girls Gone Wild to Afghanistan, they’ll gladly blow the sheiks.
Of course, lampooning religion is nothing new for NOFX (see also “Xmas Has Been X’ed”), nor are their hostile criticisms of conservative politics (“Ronnie and Mags,” “Secret Society”). As with most punk bands, this is sort of their refrain, and while Fat Mike’s lyrical talents have always been outfuckingstanding (check out “Don’t Call Me White” on 1994′s Punk in Drublic), it doesn’t get a bit stale. It’s often hard to tell if a band if genuinely interested in a call to action or if they’re just trying to be bratty and subversive and eyebrow-raising; this is sort of where I’m at with NOFX.
The weird thing though is that the band’s brief attempts at sincerity and openness usually outshine their snotty veneer. On their previous album Coaster, this was “My Orphan Year,” in which Fat Mike discusses his mother’s lengthy battle with cancer and his father’s struggles with demensia. On Self Entitled, it’s “I Got One Jealous Again, Again,” a slow and somewhat lurchy tune in which the vocalist recounts, with uncustomary earnestness, a breakup by detailing which of his CDs he was able to keep and which ones he was forced to give up:
Take your Guns’N'Roses with the Robert Williams cover/ and I’ll take the Fugazi picture disc.
Nineteen or twenty years ago I labeled my slip covers/ that was a union I wasn’t willing to risk.
The thing is, I have no doubt that Fat Mike really did lable his slip covers all those years ago and that he still has those CDs. I have no doubt that these guys really are the way they seem on their albums. And I think this is what accounts for a large part of NOFX’s success, their unabashed honesty. They live their music in that badass punk rock sort of way that those of us who have ever played in a band wish we could. NOFX really likes being NOFX, and it shows in their music. Like most of their contemporaries, they realized early on what they were good at, and that’s really all they’ve been doing the past 30 years, nothing more. If you’re looking to broaden your horizons, for substance, for something new, then Self Entitled is not for you. But if you’re looking for a band that is perfectly content with the small piece of punk territory it occupies and seeks nothing more, then you’ve come to the right place.
