DA Stern has a Green Day: L.A. indie-pop artist D.A. Stern told us about his Green Day experience.
D.A. Stern: I was concerned with only a handful of things in 1997: fulfilling every achievement in Nintendo 64’s GoldenEye, studying for my—just a year away—Haftara, and Green Day. I was in seventh grade.
Word had spread in my Jewish day school that Green Day would be performing a concert and signing their new CD, Nimrod, at Tower Records in Manhattan, only 45 minutes and a universe away from my suburban New Jersey upbringing. I had never been to a concert and couldn’t imagine getting to go to this one, so I was ecstatic when I got the call from two of the coolest kids in the school—EIGHTH GRADERS—that my rabid Green Day fandom had earned me a spot. Why were these kids cool? Well they had their own band, a real one called The Fizz. They even had a song called “Last Week’s Lunch” that I had seen them play at the Purim festival. The drummer, Daniel Ovadia, played the same instrument as me, only a lot better. And the guitarist, Jack Antonoff, had even then seemed destined for great things.
The night started as innocently as any other: the three of us in the backseat of a Volvo, two moms in the front. We stopped on 23rd Street at this brand new donut shop that the tri-state area was going nuts for, Krispy Kreme, to pick up a box of glazed. We made it to Tower Records and couldn’t believe the scene.
What seemed like thousands of hopefuls mobbed the sidewalk of Broadway and 4th. It was cold and the crowd, mostly punks, had been fed up that capacity had been reached. They wouldn’t get to see their beloved band and had become unruly. A benevolent cop saw us being tossed and shoved by the crowd like toddlers in the ocean—at the time I was 4’11” and wrestled in the 65 pound weight class—and personally escorted us, moms in tow, into the store.
The crowd inside wasn’t much happier. They had already been waiting for what seemed like forever and were riled up by the jealous onlookers from outside. Worst of all, Green Day had been stalling. Amid the waiting, one magical moment came when I lifted my issue of DRUM! with Tré Cool on the cover in the direction of the balcony the band were stationed behind and Tré popped up to point what we all considered to be a knowing finger of approval at me. I still have that magazine.
And then they took the stage. Set up on a landing between the first and second floors of the store, they ripped through an opener of “Nice Guys Finish Last.” It was the first time I felt the energy of a crowd and I was hooked immediately, swaying in gleeful rhythm, shoulder-to-shoulder with my pop-punk compatriots.
A few songs later all hell broke loose. Billie Joe Armstrong spray painted “FUCK YOU” on the windows for the disappointed nonparticipants. Then he mooned ‘em and spray painted some more on an interior wall. Later, Tré Cool threw his kick drum off the balcony and smashed his kit while Mike Dirnt tossed detritus into the audience. Billie Joe beckoned the crowd to join in the revelry and you probably already know that they obliged, causing all sorts of damage to the store.
The same cop who escorted us in got us out of there like he was John McClane and before you knew it we were back in the Volvo, eating donuts on the way home from the best night of our lives. The kids in Talmud class weren’t going to believe this one.
DA Stern has a Green Day: D.A. Stern's Don't Take Your Heartache Out on the World is out now.
L-R: Jack Antonoff, Daniel Ovadia, D.A. Stern. (Photo by Annette Stern, 11/11/97)
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L-R: Jack Antonoff, Daniel Ovadia, D.A. Stern. (Photo by Annette Stern, 11/11/97)