Jako sam uzbuđena!!!!!! Na službenoj stranici Green Daya su pred dva dana objavili da Green Day u studiju radi na novom albumu. Ja im držim fige i iskreno se nadam da će album izaći prije nove godine!!!! Sigurna sam da će biti bolji i od American Idiota!!!!  ne želim ispasti očajna, ali, KOMENTIRAJTE, molim vas!!!  |
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Malo sam promijenila boje bloga. Nadam se da vam se ovaj dizajn više sviđa. Meni da zato jer je više u bojama Green Daya. Ovaj dugi tekst ispod napisao je jedan amerikanac ali je stvarno zanimljiv i savjetujem vam da ga pročitate. Nisam ga prevodila zato jer bolje zvuči na engleskom. I još za kraj hvala na onim komentarima u prošlom postu. Seize the Green Day I am a 47-year-old punk rock groupie who entered the fold at 45. 45. Do the math and you’ll find JFK hadn’t even been elected president when I entered this world. Eisenhower held that title in June of 1959. I’m not sure how that would strike Green Day, the band that catapulted me out of whatever I thought middle-age was supposed to be with their now ultra-famous album American Idiot. My transformation from hermit-like suburbanite to world-traveling geek was stunning. That pissed-off opening guitar riff of the title song nailed me nearly two Septembers ago, causing my whole body to surge backwards in my black swivel chair, hands involuntarily flying off my ergonomic computer keyboard shot full of electricity. It was the most satisfying rock music I’d heard in over 15 years. It is the music I adore. In this retro age of homogenization, punkers Green Day -- Billie Joe Armstrong, Mike Dirnt and Tre Cool -- were able to outwit corporate B.S. rock to produce a masterpiece. The album gave the middle finger to the ‘powers that be.’ I hadn’t realized how much I’d been craving that kind of expression. And I wasn’t alone. Where did I first hear this opus? Why, on the Howard Stern show of course! It’s well- documented that the majority of forty-five-year-old white middle-class women are dedicated Howard fans. And a Baba Booey to y’all! I bought American Idiot and listened to it like a mental patient for the following year. It is brutal beauty: honest and poignant. It’s pure genius. Furious guitars, insanely catchy pop tunes and searing lyrics make this album one of the greatest of all time. Not to mention the themes of isolation, anger, love, lust, betrayal, and just for kicks, death and resurrection: brave risk that paid off. The first shows I went to in 2004 were empty compared to their summer shows in 2005 as news of the album erupted around the world. The band had been languishing for several years. They even considered calling it quits. When the master tapes for a new album were “stolen” from their studio, they saw an opportunity to go out on a limb and try something different. And that difference launched them into a second wave of fame after their first ride in 1994 with the release of Dookie. Before Green Day and American Idiot converted me into full-on freaky fan, I was a shut-in. Having never learned basic socialization skills from my bipolar, manic-depressive, paranoid schizophrenic parents, I’ve had to unravel most of life’s challenges on my own. Difficult as this continues to be, it’s made me independent and that’s a good thing. That small germ of self-determination has helped me out of many a twisted moment. It was quite handy when I had to pull myself back from the brink of becoming a sloppy drug addict with severe health, relationship and job problems. The never-ending pain of a severe case of sciatica got me addicted to painkillers, cigarettes, Bailey’s Irish Cream and Cocoa Puffs. I could barely walk which increased my anxiety and depression. It was a slippery slope. I’d wake up at five a.m. to do my job on my home computer, light up a Camel, pour myself a huge mug of ľ Bailey’s and Ľ hot chocolate, pop a pain pill, and top it off with a Xanax. After I’d crushed the cigarette, I’d fill a bowl (or two) with Cocoa Puffs and milk to finish the cycle. Later, it was more expeditious to pour the Bailey’s straight on the cereal, skipping the milk altogether. I’d be drunk by 10 a.m. crawling back into bed to sleep for the rest of the afternoon. When none of my clothes fit, visits to the liquor store became embarrassingly frequent, and my paper recycling was filled with boxes of that ‘Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs’ bird, I saw the light. I put myself on a 30-day rehab plan and got off everything. (I’d read in some self-help book that “IT ONLY TAKES 30 DAYS TO CHANGE A BAD HABIT! YOU CAN DO IT!”). I had to do it. I couldn’t end up being some fat, out-of-shape, road-hard-put-up-wet 50-year-old. Staring down the double-barrel of that shot gun is the American Nightmare. During that transition, I started paying attention to the world outside of my own drama. I noticed Yoga and it saved me. Well, Yoga and years of therapy. Yoga helped mentally, physically, and socially. It gave me the strength to “soften around what is,” it gave me skills to take risks and it threw me into situations where I had to interact with others; like putting my purple yoga mat less than 6-inches from someone else’s sweaty butt. I tried to hide in the very front of the yoga class, nose to the front wall so I couldn’t see anyone. Sensing my terror, my teacher thought a good remedy would be to throw my mat dead-center in the class. Sink or swim. Swimming is good. I broke off the miserable relationship, got a couple of tattoos and started over. American Idiot was the final slap in the face that ratcheted up my recovery ten-thousand notches. Just weeks after my A.I. epiphany, and six-months after my self-imposed rehab, Green Day came to D.C. I bought a front row seat. Not the real front, that space is reserved for the mosh pit, a holy place for the hard-core fans. I was in the first row of the bleachers. I had no desire to fling myself into a pit of pulsating teenagers. The seat was just fine. My devotion only skyrocketed as soon as the three took the stage. I couldn’t believe how excited I was. I mean, there they were, right there! Several songs in, lead singer, songwriter and outward conscience of the band Billie Joe took a head-first stage dive into the frantic pit and was nearly strangled by some whack job who grabbed his skinny red tie and started pulling him downward into the crowd. A gigantic security guard scooped Billie Joe up and gently set him back on the stage. I was stunned. Didn’t he know how famous he was? Didn’t he worry that he might get killed? Eventually he got it because in the eight shows I saw that year, in the U.S. and abroad, I never saw him do that again. (That’s right, I said abroad.) Green Day’s live show has been called unparalleled -- a mix of high-theater and pyrotechnics played out against a rock-and-roll backdrop. As a unit, they kill. Drummer Tre and bassist Mike are stellar musicians and candid performers. But for me, it’s all Billie Joe. He is a force I’m not quite sure I’ve ever witnessed before. He is Charlie Chaplin. He is Jim Morrison. He is Mister Rogers. He is Elvis. He is sex. He is exploding white light in his tight black rock-and-roll gear, spiked ebony hair and perfectly smudged eye-liner. And he owns the crowd. He is so charismatic that if he used his powers for evil instead of good, we all might be in big trouble. To see the band I had to travel and I hated to travel. Traveling is good. I tricked myself into having fun by knowing that at the end of each anxiety-producing journey I had a show to look forward to with my people -- freaks like me in different places with different accents. My first out-of-town trip was to the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. Day-dreaming on the Internet one afternoon I thought, “hey, a lot of people probably just fly to Las Vegas to see a show, why can’t I?” It was perfect timing as that very day $1000 landed in my lap after a company stole a piece of information off my personal Web site for their profit. The band was playing American Idiot from front-to-back in a special show at the Hard Rock. Flying, especially after 9-11, totally freaked me out. I went anyway because I was sick of hating to fly and sick of thinking that only other people went on adventures. The cherry on the top of that Sin-City-hot-fudge-sundae was when drummer Tre Cool stopped the action at our craps table to compliment me on my Green Day tattoo. I believe, “that is so cool!” were his exact words. “That’s right, Tre Cool thinks I’m cool,” I kept bragging to myself as I stood in line at the grocery store, the drug store and the bank the week after I came home. Then there was Europe. I was set to conquer the world. I bought a $40 ticket to see the band in Lyon, France. Hey, I wasn’t doing anything else that summer. A friend of mine was so amused by my desire to travel with absolutely no funds that she gave me a free first-class British Airways ticket to cross the great Atlantic. The trip to Lyon turned into a tour of four countries in six days in which I saw the band three times. I took the Chunnel between England and France, something that I NEVER EVER EVER would have considered before that. Much too dangerous! My last continental stop was Berlin, making me only the second person in my family to even think of going back to a country that wiped out most of our lineage. By that July’s Live 8 concert in the old Communist city I was an experienced pit member surrendering my body to mass of the true believers. This past May, I went to an Elvis Costello tribute in Atlantic City. Fiona Apple, Death Cab for Cutie and Billie Joe were paying homage to Costello, my first punk hero. I had a crappy ticket. On the night of the show, I checked online and found a bunch of unsold, very expensive seats. Inside the venue, I skirted security and bee-lined it to the front, nicking a seat next to some cool people who also happened to be friends of the show’s producer. They invited me to an after-party on the 49th floor of the Trump Taj Mahal in the Maharaja Suite: two stories, spiral staircase, grand piano, open bar, fabulous food, super-models and Billie Joe. All told, my favorite Green Day moment was having a brief interaction with Billie Joe at a New York Times interview in New York. I got to ask a question in the Q&A period. I asked him if he’d sing something. The reaction of the intimate audience shocked me. Everyone went insane screaming out their favorite Green Day songs. He looked back at me and said, “sing something?” I said yeah, that I would even take one of the show tunes he told us he used to sing for hospital patients when he was a kid. With trepidation he started singing “Chicago, Chicago that toddlin’ town… ”The crowd went nuts. He was noticeably distressed. “Is that sort of what you wanted?” he asked.“Well, actually I was hoping you might sing a little of Wake Me Up When September Ends. ”He shuffled a bit and sang the first few lines of the American Idiot ballad with great vulnerability. Then it got weird. He started obsessing about how nerve-wracking this was and how he’d wished he’d had his guitar. I felt horrible, that I’d sort of upset the room. I sat back down and the woman next to me said, “Great question.” I didn’t think so. I felt like a jackass. Later, when I was standing in the meet-and-greet line smushed between the two 30-something sisters who had knitted color-coordinated scarves for the band and a greasy-faced 13-year-old boy who was desperately trying to put his paws all over my special edition American Idiot hardback booklet, I felt a bubble had burst. Billie Joe was human; he was not immortal. He was as scared and anxious as I. When I got to the table where he was signing autographs, he looked up at me and the smile on his face fell. “I’m really sorry about that singing thing,” he said. I stood there in shock over the fact that he even recognized me. “That’s OK,” I said not knowing what else to say. And then I whispered, “I saw you guys in Las Vegas,” as he scribbled his signature on my booklet. I reached out my hand and he shook it with a sweet and weary smile. Fill in any cliché about meeting a hero at this point: I couldn’t move- I couldn’t breath- Time slowed to a crawl- Time rushed by- I’ll never wash this hand again… Scratch that last one. After all, I was in Manhattan, island of bacteria. The hand had to be washed. American Idiot upended my life so exquisitely that after years of fear I was liberated. I learned how to have fun by myself and with others, how to fly without panicking and how to infuse my own music and life with spirit and guts. Now when something overwhelms me I get in touch with my inner Billie Joe. I thought people would peg me as a complete weirdo for going on these trips alone. Instead, to a person, the response was, “wow, how cool. I could never do that. ”And no one ever asked how old I was. Death and resurrection. Great art has no boundaries. American Idiot is great art and I’m glad I got to catch that monster wave right along with the band, riding it out until the very last crash landed on my middle-aged shoreline. “And in the darkest night, if my memory serves me right, I’ll never turn back time; forgetting you but not the time… ”Billie Joe Armstrong, ‘Whatsername,’ American Idiot. |
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ne znam šta je bilo ovih zadnjih dana ali kad sam god pokušavala ući na blog.hr ili na bilo koji blog, uopće ih nisam mogla učitati. ne znam jel se još kome to dogodilo! ali nema veze, sada sam ovdje. Pa evo vam jedan live nastup Green Daya s pjesmom Platypus(I hate you)! Čula sam nešto da su tu pjesmu morali povući s Nimroda zbog nekog problema. meni to ionako nije važno zato jer ja tu pjesmu imam na kompu! obavezno bar poslušajte!! E da! I hvala za sad onih rekordnih 17 komentara na jednom postu!(ha ha) nadam se da će im se broj na ovom postu povećati za jedan! --@@----@@ --@@--@@ --@@-@ --@@-@ --@@--@@ --@@----@@ --@@ --@@ --@@ --@@ --@@ --@@ ----@@@ --@@--@@ --@@----@ --@@ -----@@ --------@@ --@----@@ --@@--@@ ----@@@ ----@@@ --@@--@@ --@@----@ --@@ -----@@ --------@@ --@----@@ --@@--@@ ----@@@ |
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evo par izjava-za koje se može reći da su "pametne"(recimo), a izašle su iz usta Billie Joea, Mikea & Trea Billie Joe "Fuckin' backwards ass hillbilly shit." "I don't think we're capable of being macho to tell you the truth." "I can't think anything better in life than being a rock star." "Rock bands are suck pussies, you know? I honestly think that people are looking for something that's more than just a piece of shit." "I can play every fucking metal song ever fucking written." "We all lived in the same house in Richmond California and we were terrible tenants at the time. We ended up chopping up the stairs for firewood." "I think in rock music, bands haven't been stepping up the plate that much. Which is fine. Make your boring music, go ahead." "If anybody is gonna leave this band, it'll be in a body bag." "Hey, why don't you come here you little Mohawk mother fucker?" "Do I want to change the world with music? Well fuck yeah I want to change the world to a certain extent yeah. It needs to be changed... It needs a kick in the ass." "It's a proven fact that music can change people." "I'm new school with an old flavor in a new time in an old period of place." "My job description is that I'm a rock star. And I'm good at it, you know?" "I never thought being obnoxious would get me where I am now." "I really enjoy what I do for a living. It's a fun thing. Some people think we suck, but I think we're fucking great." "A lot of bands will say they prefer small shows, but let's be honest, playing stadiums doesn't suck either." "You might grow up with a lot of anger, but what's important is how you educate yourself, what comes out of that anger, how does it apply later on in your life." Mike "There isn't an audience in the world that Billie Joe can't command." "Showers are overrated." "Come forward you evil minions, you dirty people." "Well, we drink, we play a show for an hour a day, ahm... then we drink some more, barbeque small children..." "We like to write what's fun to play for us." "Happiness is a road traveled not a destination." "We were looking for lunch money when we put Dookie out." "You're just mad cause you're in the rain. Well fuck youuuu ... I hope it rains so much you all get stuck!" "Grab life by the balls and squeeze. " Tré "People think that we're just good-looking guys with big dicks that play hot rock and roll." "Why are there no clouds in the sky? 'Cause God wants to watch his favorite band again!" "The radio sounds good when were on it, I know that." "Roll roll roll a joint, twist it at the ends. Light it up, take a puff and pass it to your friends." "You can't fuck with us now. We did. We pulled it off." "Music has never been at a better time then it is right now. We're really lucky to be a part of this wonderful thing called music." "We were never concerned about success. We were just looking for places to play." "It's a good year when you make up a name for a drink AND you have a number one album." Tre: "I never jizz in my socks" Billie: "Yeah, that's why I've got scratches all over my feet" |
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Prije sam vam obećala da ću staviti fotke s dvda al nikako nać vremena da ih skinem s njega!! Pa evo sad su tu!! Stavila sam ih samo 10 ali te su mi i najbolje ispale!! Znam da su male ali ipak se dobro vide. Napišite mi jel vam se sviđaju. ki§§           |
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evo video Wake Me Up When September Ends. Dođe mi da se rasplačem kad ga gledam(šmrc, šmrc :)) |
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Sam vam htjedoh reći da je Green Day nominiran na mtv music awards u naravno rock skupini za pjesmu Wake Me Up When September Ends!!! pa, savjettujem vam da glasujette ako hoćette da pobijedi!! za link kliknite ovdje Na tom siteu imate jednu link videos-ako kliknete imate užasno puno spotova a od green daya imate i drugih snimki osim svih njihovih spotova pozzzzzzz |
Ovo je prije bilo objavljeno na Green Day Authority, ali napisano je stvarno super!! Tko još nije pročitao bolje mu je da to napravi  Buried Deep With Your Identity: Are Green Day Punk? June 17, 2006 The interview’s around the time of Insomniac. The guys are slouched up against a bathroom wall - how many photoshoots over the years, new look for every era, putting a mark on time, putting a mark on your skin, blood and ink of another rite of passage? So Billie Joe says ‘I have nothing really to be proud of, except for the fact that I happen to be a punk’. Ignore the screaming lack of self-worth in this statement - or maybe not, because ‘worthless’ is punk’s dictionary definition - this is what it comes down to for him, the essence of how he sees himself. Then remember that this guy saying these words is the guy with a ground-breaking mega-hit album called 'Dookie' under his belt, a string of hit singles, cool videos, never off MTV - nothing to be proud of? Not when it means that the thing he values more than all of that is being torn away from him - his identity, the right to say 'I happen to be a punk'. I didn’t get to hear if he had a definition of what punk is - I don’t think the guy is about definitions anyway. But to me, punk is whatever he is, and if anyone has a right to the name, it’s Green Day. This argument rages on and on, as the ‘sell-out’ chorus loops its drone, and maybe it’s pointless to address it again. But this band’s integrity is what has been constantly attacked since Dookie, perversely because people know they care about it - and I think that to attack someone’s integrity is no small thing. That the broader community does it is a reflection of the fact that punk scares them - and here were some punks who had ventured out of their niche and were radio-friendly - in fact, pretty friendly generally. Easy game then, and appropriate for a society that is at its heart deeply conservative, to still somewhere resent the tattooed outsiders who crossed the tracks to shove their dicks in Billboard with Longview. If that’s not the case, why is it this song mentioned in every review and interview right up to today, and used ignorantly to trivialize them? A radical point of view is a challenge to the comfortable norm, and it’s easier to attack those who expound ideals than to engage with the ideals themselves. But to paraphrase ‘Reject’, who the hell are we to tell them who they are? Who even is uber-punk John Lydon to tell them? Johnny rightly expects that people should be familiar with his Punk culture and its origins in the desolation of Seventies Britain, hopeless, workless, bleak and futureless, kids taking that nothing - the badge of worthless - and making a revolution. Johnny’s struggle blinds him to Green Day‘s, and he never bothered to discover their culture: for him, it never rains in California, and no-one is poor or degraded or disenfranchised. No need to ask what it’s like to be the underclass of a wealthy state in a wealthy nation, swept under the rug of national pride, your pain not even allowed to name itself. No such thing as a refinery town built on landfill, no broken homes or exclusion, no trailer parks or dead-end schools, blue-collar, no-collar, drop out and fall down - this is America in the late 80s, for fuck’s sake, no such expression as ‘the slums of Oakland’ - welcome to paradise! What if the bankruptcy of the American Dream is the barren place where your soul is seeking to be nourished - and what if in being rejected, you reject, and dare to want something different, what then? Walk a mile in these guys’ shoes before you take away the badge of worthlessness that they blazon as a badge of pride, and tell me who’s more entitled to it, and to decide for themselves what it means to them. So punk is indelibly their identity, but I don’t think they ever signed up to a set of rules that defined it - Billie Joe again: ‘We were never really into that whole PC punk clique’. The basic concept, yes; the rules and rigidity, no. He is first and last an artist, and whatever competes with that drive will lose - it’s rightly his higher law. In their Gilman years, they were committed to DIY - it was a way of making possibilities where there were none, enabling themselves to go forward on the path they’d already chosen. As kids who didn’t fit the school system and didn’t have a home life at that time, poor and disadvantaged, despite their artistic gifts - there they found a way to live with dignity, purpose and a sense of control over their lives and future - a toe-hold in American society ‘that don’t believe in me’. They were also part of a community of artists, they got to make music and talk ideas and ideals; for Billie and Mike, who had to grow up too fast, too hard, there was structure for lives that had seen too much chaos, there was somewhere they could just be young guys hanging out. Gilman was a place where it was ok to be who they were, and it must have been such an amazing time for them. When their needs changed and this system started to constrain them rather than free them, they moved on from it. They’ve said how they felt it was more honorable to leave the scene rather than stay and risk distorting it with their presence, but there’s no doubt they didn’t envision the painful parting that ensued. If you want the living document of that pain, it’s called Insomniac, and it echoed down the years till it was amplified again in American Idiot. They most probably had harbored hopes that they could stay within the broader parameters of that community, continuing to contribute, which goes back to the idea of structure. Green Day’s rebellions are usually around changing situations rather than tearing them down - they want Bush out of the White House, but they don’t want to overthrow the government. People look at them now, since American Idiot went seismic, and decry their punk status without ever knowing where these guys came from, how hard their journey has been, how they questioned all their decisions and suffered for many of them, and how a fierce artistic integrity burns in everything they do. But ‘question everything’ means that your philosophy has to be up for grabs too - it has to be evaluated on an ongoing basis. Ask yourself in all honesty - would you let a set of rules you embraced in your teens dictate what you do for the rest of your life, no matter what else you learn or what else changes thereafter? What if you ‘wanna be an omnivore’, a rock star, a pretty boy, all of the above instead of none of the above - would you let it stop you? That’s not punk, that’s sublimating yourself instead of expressing yourself: it’s not any kind of philosophy - it’s dogma! Would you let dogma stop you from achieving what you want to achieve in your one and only life? Mortality is a big theme for Green Day, overtly in songs from J.A.R. to Wake Me Up When September Ends, but implicit also in almost every song that talks about time and how you use it. These guys have known loss and exclusion, they know what it is to lose your faith and have people lose their faith in you, and how important it is ‘to find what to believe’. So there’s this fucking great band whose music has always been about truth. Music that’s never deviated from a standard, never sold an audience short, never given less than 100%, given till it hurts. They’re down-to-earth, unpretentious, still connected to their roots, still socially active and concerned, still kicking ass. Fuck the merch, fuck the ringtones, fuck the crappy covers of September - fuck everything extraneous that they don’t concern themselves with. Who they are is what punk is; no one can take away from them what they owned for themselves. |
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Billie Joe 
Mike Dirnt 
Tre Cool 
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za gledanje spotova samo kliknite play! Good Riddance(Time of Your Life) -ovaj spot mi je baš nekako fora, a jednostavan Minority -isto zakon spot Macy's Day Parade -ma zapravo i ovaj je zakon Warning -ako malo bolje gledate spot vidjet ćete da tip u spotu radi sve što se protivi zdravom životu i pravilima i evo još jedan spot Nice Guys Finish Last -GD je na nekom stadionu i pjeva, al stvarno je drukčiji spot i naravno SUPER have fun pozz & ki$$ |
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