Blink 182: Melbourne Rod Laver Arena
Strong possibility that a song about a man masturbating his grandson may feature on the next Blink 182 album...
The ubiquitous tour t-shirts read November, but what’s a five-month
postponement when you’re in retarded animation? “Hey, I just had diarrhoea,”
quips Blink 182‘s zany guitarist Tom DeLonge for openers. “I’m not supposed to eat poop!”
Happily, Blinkworld is a place where the lamest attempt at wit is welcomed with a squeal like 10,000 stuck pigs perched on plastic chairs – with or without dad’s help. The shrill pitch escalates when the razor riff to ‘What’s My Age Again?’ or ‘All The Small Things’ punctuates the routine, but there’s nothing like an amplified farty noise to remind these kids they’re having the best night of their pubescent lives.
It’s like designated anarchy day at high school. Two wags in the pit have
even prepared an enormous poster whose sole purpose is to denigrate the
dimensions of DeLonge’s wedding tackle. Several others hold up monstrous song titles, as if a band of Blink 182‘s fleeting significance might have grander priorities than to play ‘Dammit’ or ‘Anthem’.
Each blasts off with an almighty crack of devotion to the SoCal punk form, even if the content makes The Offspring sound like Wildean sophisticates. Any musicality is down to amply tattooed and freshly chrome-domed drummer Travis Barker. His ferocity comes in flailing, three-minute bursts, as if to
relieve the diabolical stress of hearing these twin dickhead front men
sideline music every night for piss poor dick gags.
Yes, bassist Mark Hoppus gives as good as he gets in the 2001 Puerility Classic, whether accusing his baggy-shorted buddy of enjoying sex with boys (“I like vagina! I like vagina!” comes the priceless riposte) or ad libbing a song about a gentleman masturbating his grandson. “That one might be on our next album,” Hoppus says over the least discriminating roar to emanate from any crowd, ever. The tragedy is, it just might.