Roughly halfway through Do What You Want, the official “autobiography” of Bad Religion (via extensive interviews with the band by author Jim Ruland), the timeline approaches a moment any fan would be curious about: the recording of Generator, the ambitious and experimental 1992 album that saw the punk act stretching into new styles and structures of songwriting. After several paragraphs describing the studio in which they tracked the album, there’s one page outlining the album’s recording process, followed by a brief digression about the gear used to record it. Suddenly, the conversation jumps back to Epitaph, the band’s record label, getting its first employee. After the next chapter details alcohol abuse, the pop culture explosion of Nirvana’s popularity, and the release of a compilation album, the thread regarding Generator picks up again—or rather, it doesn’t. “After many delays, Epitaph released Generator on March 13, 1992, nearly a year after the band had finished recording it.” The end. It’s jumbled, and skips over the actual process, and leaves the reader vaguely dissatisfied. It’s unfortunately a recurring theme.
Any rock biography worth its salt mixes musical history and juicy personal revelations in equal measure, and Do What You Want is a breezy page-turner that does a respectable job at each. But for an outfit as exacting about its creative process as Bad Religion, it’s surprising to see a band history that jumps around and fudges its own timeline so much. There’s a whole conversation about how No Control, which the band released in 1989, ended up gaining them a ton of new fans thanks to the song “You” being included on the soundtrack for Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 2, a video game that wasn’t released until 2000—not that you would know it from the book. Guitarist (and Epitaph Records founder) Brett Gurewitz moves out of a tiny studio apartment and into a nice bungalow where he begins the label in earnest—then seemingly moves again, in the very next paragraph. One chapter kicks off by boasting how Bad Religion toured South America at a time when “nobody was going there,” without specifying when that actually was. (Context eventually reveals it was the late ’90s. Presumably the Monsters Of Rock tour, which had been traveling there since 1994, would be surprised to learn it didn’t exist.) The group recounting firing longtime guitarist Greg Hetson remains frustratingly vague. These may be quibbles, but they add up.
Thankfully, there’s plenty of good, meaty drama and behind-the-scenes insight to leaven the messier elements. For a punk band that’s been around as long as Bad Religion has (since 1980), much of the history has already been recounted through interviews over the years, so Ruland wisely leans into the interpersonal elements, getting his subjects to open up about the bonds and fissures between the various members of the band that contributed to the ups and downs of its output. Unsurprisingly, the three longest-running members of Bad Religion—singer-songwriter Greg Graffin, guitarist-songwriter Gurewitz, and bassist Jay Bentley—provide the best insight into what made the group work. And, on occasion, what made it almost grind to a halt. Gurewitz’s drug problems were present from almost the beginning, and the toll it took on both his psyche and his bandmates provides some of the most compelling material. But Bentley also had his demons, as did Gurewitz’s eventual replacement, ex-Minor Threat guitarist Brian Baker, and the degree to which these punk rockers found themselves falling victim to classic rock ’n’ roll excess is a cliché for a reason. Those looking for wild and crazy stories, however, should look elsewhere. These addictions are of the more prosaic and depressing, sit-in-your-room-and-drink-whiskey-all-night variety.
One of Bad Religion’s biggest appeals has always been its literary and intellectual bent, and Do What You Want knows that someone buying a history of Bad Religion also wants to dive into its headier aspects. Ruland delivers: For every description of a song coming together musically, he delves into Graffin and Gurewitz’s inspirations—historical, spiritual, academic, political—in order to show how the band’s ideological framework steered its creative directions. Twenty-first-century records like The Empire Strikes First and True North are revealed to have profoundly divergent thematic beginnings (the former’s conception via opposition to the Iraq War, the latter a deeply personal time of familial tumult for Graffin), despite the consistency of the band’s sound. And no punches are pulled about the group’s weaker releases: Bentley, speaking about his fear the band might’ve broken up following the release of 2000’s mostly lackluster The New America, says, “I was really mad that we might actually end on this fart.” (Also, rock legend Todd Rundgren, who produced the album, sounds like a bit of an asshole.)
While the book certainly delivers on the meat-and-potatoes account of Bad Religion’s rise, wane, then artistic rebirth following Gurewitz rejoining with new drummer Brooks Wackerman, the sometimes inconsistent characterizations and odd structural choices keep it from rising to the levels of excellence its subjects have with their music. But for all the things left unsaid or unaccounted for, what remains is a breezy and enjoyable oral history of being in one of the most respected and enduring punk acts in American history. With such longevity, perhaps another song title would have been even more apropos: “Can’t Stop It.”
19 Comments
“After several paragraphs describing the studio in which they tracked the album, there’s one page outlining the album’s recording process, followed by a brief digression about the gear used to record it.”Hahahaha, this is giving me flashbacks to Graffin’s liner notes for the Tested live album, which are heavy on recording details and very self-congratulatory for one of the worst-sounding live albums out there. Get to the good stuff, nerd! Anyway, that’s disappointing because Generator is a great and unique album in their catalog. How much does the book intertwine the story of Epitaph with the story of the band? Because that’s a huge part of Gurewitz leaving and important context for their success, the success of the label is why You winds up on videogames a decade after it’s recorded. And it’s a pretty important example of DIY or maybe doing what you want. And on that front, how much do they talk about Into The Unknown, the album that nearly destroyed all that because it was too prog? I love it dearly and the band seems to have disowned it. I also think New America, though not without missteps, is pretty decent pop-punk, for a band fascinated with evolution they seem to be dismissive of alternate paths.
It’s fun to listen to Into the Unknown every once in a while just to think “Really, this is the same band?”
I think you can hear recurring themes of theirs that link it to the rest of their catalog more than the music itself does, but even those are taken in new directions. Skepticism about technology/progress is combined with a pastoral focus they wouldn’t indulge in elsewhere and the existential crises (which come to a head on “Generator”) are more emotionally direct. It was the first thing I ripped off Napster in 1999, after already being a big fan of the band, and it’s very much a high school album for me in its confusion and yearning.
Is this just available on youtube or it available elsewhere? Downloadable or purchaseable?
Yeah, I get that acknowledging Into the Unknown in the 80s might have damaged their “punk cred” but it wasn’t a bad album and I think they could talk about it now without worries. I’ve only ever heard 10th generation copies of it, though. Also, I guess Tony Hawk probably helped sell a couple more albums than Crazy Taxi did.
I always put the thin sound down to inexperienced or purposefully trebly production (this was when Spot was running the boards at SST after all), for some reason I never thought of the bootleg/download quality affecting it when that’s obviously a factor too. Release the Spector mixes of ITU!
How is Gurewitz doing these days? I saw them like five years ago and was like “Who is this frail old man that’s playing guitar for Bad Religion now. I couldn’t believe it was Brett Gurewitz. He and Mick Mars probably wouldn’t have weighed 200lbs put together.
They’re looking more like DAD Religion. AMIRITE? Seriously though most bands of their era should be so lucky as to have a run of albums as fucking amazing as Suffer, No Control, and Against the Grain and Generator.
“They’re looking more like DAD Religion. AMIRITE?”I mean, Greg Graffin has been rocking the short sleeve Polo shirt for as long as I can remember, and he makes it WORK.
New America is one of the my fave BR albums. I never really thought about how different it was until years later. Graffin loved “unpopular prog rock” (his words) and was a big Tood Rundgren fan when he was younger. It’s an odd one for sure but the songs are catchy.
True story: when I was an undergrad at UCLA, Greg Graffin was the teaching assistant for one of my biology classes. This was around 1989-1990 when he was working on his master’s degree. His name seemed familiar, but I didn’t put it together right away. I was not very into punk music then, although I saw them perform live about 10 years later. Graffin was thoughtful and nice, and we even nodded “hello” to each other outside of class.Thanks, I just wanted to add my Bad Religion anecdote.
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Is there anything in the book about Greg Graffin’s webcam incident with the teenager? I’m always shocked that this story hasn’t resurfaced in the last few years. https://wafflesizzle.livejournal.com/101425.htmlhttps://groups.google.com/forum/m/#!topic/alt.music.bad-religion/I-4eO4aOHzk
Suffer through Generator is an unfuckwithable run. Recipe for Hate is really good too
A drummer called Wackerman. You’re making it up!
Nah man, he’s one of the most talented drummers ever – dude’s got speed & skill for days. Currently, he’s the drummer for Avenged Sevenfold but when Brooks was with Bad Religion, HOLY SHIT was he good.
I find myself returning to The Process of Belief quite often and I think it has a lot to do with what Brooks brought to their sound in that era. The fills in “Can’t Stop It” get me every time.
After reading this I thought “Man, I really need to get Bad Religion back into my life”, which just as a sentence I suppose is funny by itself. Recipe For Hate was their album that always spoke the most to me, even if the lyrics sort of got a little word-salady at points. That being said, the middle of Struck a Nerve really defines my headspace right now, which I (I suppose fittingly?) hate.
(punctuation / formatting are mine for clarity)
Every day I wander in negative disposition as I’m bombarded by superlatives, realizing very well that I am not alone.
Introverted, I look to tomorrow for salvation – but I’m thinking altruistically; and a wave of overwhelming doubt turns me to stone
Ugh.
I did not know this was out but I might actually read a book again, given that Bad Religion is probably my all-time favorite band (I’m not one to really use that term but they check a lot of boxes). I think I got Generator and a burned copy of Process of Belief at the same time, and as far as their output goes I think that was about as good as it got for a two-album introduction in 2005. True North was the last album I listened to in full, which I loved — their late-game from New Maps to that was surprisingly solid for being a bunch of aged punkers.
I think they had a song recently about the Alt-Right that people were bashing for it basically being a manifesto they thought was in support of the movement, as if that wasn’t the whole goddamn point. BR can definitely get a little too “academic” sometimes but I don’t think I’ve ever worried they didn’t know what they were doing.