Old Bands, New Music, Timeless Truth

In October of 2023, the band Blink-182 released their new album One More Time, and it was the first time I’ve experienced an old band’s music speaking to me.

For those of you not in the know because you missed 90’s pop culture, Blink-182 dominated top 40 radio in the late 90s and early 2000s with songs like “All the Small Things”, “What’s My Age Again,” and “Rock Show.” They represented the spunky counterculture of the millennial generation – skateboards, baggy clothes, shenanigans that attracted mall security guards, suburban angst, romantic trepidation, damaging divorces, prank phone calls, and garage rock bands. They remain one of the most, if not the most, popular pop-punk bands to date.

So last October, when I heard they had put out a new album, it was immediately off to Spotify. It’s been nearly two decades since I had followed the band, and to be honest, I was mostly curious to see how well their pop punk style had aged as the musicians entered their late 40s and early 50s. It was not fandom, but curiosity, that drew me to their album.

It’s a part of growing up in the modern time era that we’ve all experienced. The Rolling Stones have a North American tour coming up, fronted by 80-year-olds Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, joined by 79 year old Ronnie Wood. A friend of mine saw blues legend B.B. King perform live back in 2014, only to report that the singer sat in a chair for most of the show (he would die the following year). Beach Boy savant Brian Wilson, at age 81, uses a walker to get around onstage. Paul McCartney is also 81. Ringo Starr is 83. Both former Beatles are still making music and touring. The point is not to gawk at the toll that time has taken on the famous, but instead to recognize that these important parts of our youth grow old and experience the frailty of life right alongside us.

Some attribute the popularity of these acts to America’s obsession with remaining young, fit, and attractive, what sociologists have dubbed “the cult of youth,” but that’s not the whole story. Or at least, that’s not the case with the new Blink-182 album, which offers listeners a look into the middle aged life of those angsty skateboarding MTV regulars from days gone by.

The title track, “One More Time,” is a deeper reflection on the life events that led to the band’s reunion. After an acrimonious twenty years of breakups, reunions, and more breakups, two events shocked the band back together. Drummer Travis Barker was in a deadly plane crash that killed four other passengers and left him with serious burn scars on two-thirds of his body. Bassist and co-singer Mark Hoppus had a stage 4 cancer diagnosis that sent him into six months of chemotherapy. “Do I have to die to hear you miss me?” the band croons over an acoustic guitar, a piano, synth notes, and church bells. “Do I have to die to hear you say goodbye? I don’t wanna act like there’s tomorrow. I don’t wanna wait to do this one more time.” It’s quite the reflection on mortality, friendship, and priority. Which is better – to hold onto resentments and call for justice, or to forgive and keep the friendship? Life has taught these three punk rockers that the latter is definitely the better choice.

Other songs on this album include tracks titled “When We Were Young” and “ You Don’t Know What You’ve Got,” and you can guess the theme of the songs from the titles alone. There are songs about regret, lost love, lost childhood, and meaningless middle age jobs. Sandwiched in between them, however, are the crude jokes, clever turns of phrase, and breakneck rhythms that have defined the band’s personality for nearly 40 years.

The new album isn’t merely a millennial nostalgia trip, nor is it a cynical money grab. Instead, Blink-182 lets us know what happened to those pop-punk rockers from 20 years ago. They got older. Life hit them hard. They learned it was better to be together than apart. They learned not to take those younger days for granted. They had hoped that youthful energy would maintain them through middle age, even though their bodies and fame had recessed. What they found instead was the need for something deeper. All these life lessons are well earned for the band, and thankfully, they’re a good enough band to transform that emotion into song.

At the root of it all, of course, is mortality and death. It’s one thing to stick it to the man in those wild and carefree younger years. It’s another thing altogether to realize that there has to be more to life than sticking it to the man. Punk rockers die just as their parents-who-don’t-understand die, just as those mall security guards die, just as those fans who danced and sang in the front row will also die. If one of the lessons that the band learns in their late life is that it’s better to be together in mercy and forgiveness than it is to be apart and harbor resentments, no matter how just they may be, we might see such a lesson as a gift of divine mercy. Such an attitude is, after all, at the heart of the gospel, isn’t it? A revelation like this makes for great music, whether in pop-punk style or Christian hymnody.

Truthfully, I used to roll my eyes at aging pop stars who couldn’t step away. I attributed it to self indulgence, an inability to step away from the limelight, and the escapism of a generation’s nostalgia. I think, now, I should repent and apologize for that strain of thought. If wisdom comes with age, then maybe it’s wisdom to recognize that good music, and good musicians, are relevant in any age of life, which ultimately makes them timeless and, perhaps, even divine.