An Aging Punk Finally Confronts the Blink-182 Discography

I've spent the past 20 years tolerating and sometimes enjoying Blink-182.

The band has always been there, bugging and bewitching me in equal measure. It has hovered on the border of my beloved pop-punk realm. It has claimed close friends. It has blessed morning commutes with songs I can't help but sing along to. I never took Blink-182 seriously, because it seemed to beg its listeners to disregard seriousness at every turn.

But with the recent release of the band's seventh album, California, the critical conversation about Blink-182 has been nudged into the world of hushed tones. This is apparently a band with a history that must be reckoned with. Until now, I have never listened to a Blink-182 album. But I'm about to dive into all of them at once. Join me.

Cheshire Cat (1995)

Oh no. This album is great. Really great. I am upset. My skateboarding friends should have forced me to listen to this 20 years ago. I can't believe I don't have any beautifully stupid memories attached to "Carousel." My whole life has been a lie. Blink-182's debut album loses steam and gets too jokey in the home stretch, but for a good 30 minutes, Cheshire Cat goes toe-to-toe with Screeching Weasel's best work. Mark Hoppus does a decent job here—"Cacophony" is a splendid skater-boy twist on Sunny Day Real Estate—but this is the Tom DeLonge show. "Carousel," "Touchdown Boy" and "Peggy Sue" are perfect. Without DeLonge, these guys would be lost.

Dude Ranch (1997)

If the aging weirdos I polled can be trusted, Dude Ranch is the fan favorite. I can see why. Hoppus elevates his game here, DeLonge continues the campaign of endearing awkwardness that makes Cheshire Cat so special, and pop stardom hasn't claimed either of them yet. I was already familiar with "Dammit" and "Josie," and I figured Hoppus was the primary creative force behind Blink, but like Cheshire Cat, this album belongs to DeLonge. It's that voice. DeLonge owns one of punk rock's great vocal instruments, a cross between the aggrieved wail of the Descendents' Milo Aukerman and the snotty bluster of Toys That Kill's Todd Congelliere. Blink-182 is beyond lucky to have him.

Enema of the State (1999)

OK, here's the Blink-182 I already sort of knew, and didn't really like. According to "Dumpweed," DeLonge needs a girl he can train. Gross. Who does this guy think he is? Rivers Cuomo? Until this point, the band fell back on the tired "I'm a dope and girls are just so confusing" shtick that propels too much pop music, but Blink-182 wasn't this icky about projecting insecurities. It's a real drag that Enema of the State begins on such a bum note, because the rest of the album is a showcase for Delonge's songwriting brilliance. Which isn't to say Hoppus is phoning it in—"Going Away to College," "What's My Age Again?" and "Adam's Song" are spectacular—but DeLonge's "Aliens Exist" is a truly moving cry for help from the heart and soul of one of the best pop-punk bands of all time.

Take Off Your Pants and Jacket (2001)

I guess this is growing up. The masturbation joke in the album title tries to keep the spirit of numbskullery alive, but Hoppus, DeLonge and Travis Barker find themselves at a crossroads here, and they don't know what the hell to do. The lyrics evince an increasingly weird fixation on adolescent experience, while the music strains for a grandiosity that Blink-182 simply isn't capable of reaching yet. The band is clearly more besotted with emo's nascent new wave than pop punk's '90s heyday, which is fine, but the new direction terminates at bland mediocrity. DeLonge's "Give Me One Good Reason" is the highlight, and even though I don't understand why he can't let go of hurt high-school feelings, he tricks out the tired routine with a stuttery composition that hints at a brighter future. I just can't tell if the future belongs to Blink-182 or Fall Out Boy. Regardless, I can't even imagine what these guys would be without DeLonge.

Blink-182 (2003)

This is the Blink-182 album I want to grow old with. OK, I'm already pretty old. I'll be 40 in a few years. What am I doing listening to Blink-182 albums? I don't know. But it also seems like Blink-182 doesn't know what it's doing making Blink-182 albums. The uncertainty works here, though. This album is a fiery launch into unknown outer space, an insane escape from the sophomoric hijinks that defined them here on earth. The boys in Blink-182 are men now. I am also a man. Sort of. I'm a man who understands what the new fathers in Blink-182 are experiencing, circa 2003. They are scared. They are not what they once were. But they are exploring new ways of being. The songs on this self-titled masterpiece are dark and weird, and every one of them is beautiful. DeLonge's whole life has been building up to "Asthenia," and in a way mine has as well.

Neighborhoods (2011)

This is not a good album. In fact, it is a terrible album. The songs are undercooked yet overproduced. The result is like some horrible hybrid of soggy Coldplay and post-From Under the Cork Tree Fall Out Boy. But if you've been a fan of Blink-182 as long as I have (going on four whole hours now), it's hard not to love a misstep this egregious. Dudes are trapped in a toxic relationship and can only make it work by rejecting every single thing that made them fall in love with each other in the first place. We have to love them, for they clearly are not prepared to love themselves. This is not the slow fade-out of late Green Day. This is complete collapse, and it is spectacular. As usual, DeLonge is responsible for the album's brightest spots: "Ghost on the Dance Floor" and "Natives" are further proof that DeLonge is the hot core keeping this moribund band alive.

California (2016)

Wait. What? Hold on. Hold. The. Fuck. On. DeLonge is gone? Blink-182 without DeLonge is like my life without Blink-182—a husk of a thing that could use more goddamn Tom DeLonge. Blink-182 knows it, too. California, which finds Hoppus and Barker teaming with Alkaline Trio frontman Matt Skiba, is a wan wail for help from a band holding itself hostage. The album opens with songs called "Cynical" and "Bored to Death." That about sums it up. I forgot what those songs sounded like as I was listening to them. There's a 15-second song about a swimming pool. There's a song called "Los Angeles." This album does nothing more or less than remind you that Blink-182 exists, and that human beings are still capable of playing and recording drums and guitars. Ground control to Major Tom. Um, come back.

SEE IT: Blink-182 plays Sunlight Supply Amphitheater, 17200 NE Delfel Road, Ridgefield, Wash., with A Day to Remember and All-American Rejects, on Tuesday, Sept. 20. 7 pm. $30-$90. All ages.

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