I never knew me too much about this band Rancid, other than a string of major red flags: media-industrial complex backed, relatively mega-selling ska/street/pop punk rawk, presumably popular in malls, performed by living breathing cartoon punk rockers (complete with fake British accents) and shamelessly derivative of better bands that I probably don't care to listen to much anyway. No thanx, I always thought, I'll die listening to god-damn Green Day before I give a second of my time over to this shite. But I'll be dipped in mohawk wax if I'm not kinda going bonkers for this brand new Rancid album.
I wasn't wrong about where these guys are coming from aesthetically, but I was wrong about my capacity to enjoy it. This is a record chock full of toe-tapping, fist-pumping jams (and a handful of tender ones) certain to keep the pits full all summer long.
Rating: two boots straight up in the air!