A little-known fact about myself – though my reputation as the mother of the Mother City’s club kids may precede me, I cut my teeth in the punk scene. Well, as many teeth as one could cut trying to hustle their way into Durban’s Burn nightclub at 14.
For all the Avrils and Amy Lees, no greater influence existed for my teenage self than Green Day. I’ve come to realise this is because Green Day is actually like, quite G.A.Y. Sure, there’s frontman Billie Joe Armstrong’s unapologetic bisexuality, but something in their anti-establishment theatre of subversion has always rung camp in a way that appeals to youth lost in the pre-queer awakening conundrum (American Idiot on Broadway says hi). Armstrong’s smokey eyeliner alone birthed a generation of sexually confused queers who once went “both ways” – and now go all ways.
I had made peace with never seeing them live – which made their appearance on day two of this year’s Calabash Festival in Cape Town feel like finding BINGO on this year’s card. Diving into my closet, I unearthed my studded lambskin boots (battered, broken – would these survive the mosh pit???) spray-on skinnies, and a T-shirt I hadn’t worn since 2010 but kept for some reason (this would be the reason). A whole 17 years stared back at me in the mirror. I added a wing to my smokey eyeliner – to honour the journey, you know?
American Idiot became a bible of teenage disenfranchisement for my best friend and I – the soundtrack to our misfit cadenza growing up in Durban’s neighboethoods. It was only right that she was my date for the night, both of us not fully comprehending we’d see our teenage idols in the flesh as we did shots of almost-cold tequila in my lounge.
We arrived at the DHL Stadium in Greenpoint amidst widespread ticketing confusion and general access bar queues as long as the three decades it took Green Day to touch down on South African soil – just in time to catch another 90’s artefact, The Offspring, ending their set.
After finding the more accessible media and VIP bar (thanks, accreditation), we slinked through the Front Standing Zone to find the perfect spot. The crowd, as expected, were mostly 30 to 40-something millennials, with a sprinkle of trendy Gen-Z kids proving our generation’s music has become a niche trend for Tik-Tok.
Calabash ran seriously on time. The Offspring offsprung promptly at 20:30, and a masterful stage crew transitioned the set and equipment before the unmistakable drawl of Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” filled the stadium at full volume some 15 minutes later. It makes sense that this track would be Green Day’s music of choice – the band reveres Queen and, in many ways, they are the Queen of the late millennial, post-91′ generation.
Green Day hit the stage at 21:00 sharp, opening with “The American Dream is Killing Me” from 2024’s Saviors. It has all the bones of what makes a Green Day song so fucking great – angsty, grandiose punk, with a slick sheen of astute humour.
The set then splintered into a greatest hits run through from Dookie to 21st Century Breakdown, with newer tracks folded in between each section, clearly dividing the crowd into old and new Green Day fans. The setlist was nearly flawless – the perfect balance of big hits, fan favourites and new material that kept both sides engaged.
Unsurprisingly, the majority of the set celebrated American Idiot, while deep cuts like “She” and “Letterbomb” proved that this was a show for fans, not posers. Speaking of the latter – there were definitely a good few amongst us. I’ll start with the lady who asked my bestie to tie up her hair because it was bouncing too close to her face.
In the front row…
At a punk concert.
It also became clear to us that the majority of our section’s crowd were not that familiar with the band’s music, and for the most part, stayed polite to a fault – that’s to say, “where was the fucking mosh pit?”
Green Day’s rapport with the crowd was minimal and a bit worn in (Bullet In A Bible disciples can you say “ENGLAND?”), but the group held a near two-hour show without dipping once. Their energy was undeniable, even if the crowd didn’t always return it – something Armstrong constantly attempted with his iconic “ayoooo“-ing.
At some point, bestie and I (lost in tear-filled elation at the fact that our idols were LITERALLY RIGHT THERE) decided that this whole thing was actually a private show just for us. We had the time of our lives rail bashing like we were 17 again, next to some lady scrolling Instagram during “Jesus Of Suburbia”.
Green Day made a 50,000-strong stadium feel like a dive bar – a talent only true veterans possess. The vibe was intimate, familiar and beautifully honest – few frills, just letting their songs speak for themselves.
A minor microphone hiccup during “Are We The Waiting” was easily sailed through by Armstrong. By the time “Good Riddance” rang out around 23:00, I’d cried off my wings, and bestie caught Mike Dirnt’s pick (who, by the way, is still poes hot).
Overall, Calabash was a comfortable concert experience that could’ve used a touch more discomfort. Hardcore fans were likely relegated to seats, while the Front Zone was filled with casuals, Offspring stans and random VIPs. We were definitely in the minority – but we wouldn’t have had it any other way. Our teenage selves are healed, ready for the dawning of the rest of our lives. And as it turns out, those lambskin boots had one last mosh in them after all.
