Orange County Register

For years concert-biz experts have been predicting the end of the “legacy artist” –- older performers, like the Rolling Stones, the Who and Paul McCartney, who can fill arenas (and coffers) tour after tour based on cross-generational appeal and decades of hits, as well as an ability to connect with audiences on a level many of their peers or progeny never achieved.

Apparently, those pessimists in the concert business haven’t seen Green Day lately.

The Bay Area punk/pop band, which for well over a decade had become a reliable if workmanlike act, has once again stepped up its stage show tenfold, going beyond even their mind-blowing tour behind 2004’s neo-classic American Idiot. The group’s career-spanning set Tuesday night at the Forum –- covering at least one song from each album of its career, from a smattering of the new 21st Century Breakdown to the deep-catalog obscurity “Disappearing Boy” from their 1990 debut 39/Smooth –- was a celebration not just of two decades of music but the endurance of American rock overall.

It was a glorious (if at times foul-mouthed) family-friendly and nearly three-hour marathon singalong that may get possibly over-praised here, if only because it’s difficult to think of another band that connects with fans on such an honest, visceral level. The only one that comes to mind is U2, yet the Irishmen’s legend arguably looms larger now than they themselves do. Green Day, on the other hand, is at a magical phase where expectation and reality go hand in hand – right now they’re exactly as good as their audience hopes they will be.

So much of this is thanks to bionic frontman Billie Joe Armstrong, who at 37 is in better shape than he was 15 years ago, when his band was just finding its mainstream legs while opening the main stage of Lollapalooza’s then-traveling circus.

Armstrong has a rare gift –- similar to that of Flaming Lips frontman Wayne Coyne, though each uses it in completely different ways –- of being both a cheerleader and a truth-sayer. He’s able to make the audience a part of the process through gimmicks both personal (during “Know Your Enemy” he made his way to the upper loge section, so fans could play his wireless guitar) and musical (virtually every song had a singalong moment). During one song, Armstrong shone a solitary light on the top tier of the otherwise darkened room, ensuring that even people in the furthest rows of the arena would experience a brief moment of connection.

But more than just that, Armstrong effortlessly makes Green Day shows an experience for everyone. Crowd-surfers who make it to the stage are often welcomed to sing a verse or two, always greeted by a smile and a hug and then urged to stage-dive. Adults in the audience, who perhaps brought their kids and are therefore unfamiliar with the band’s catalog, are encouraged to participate not just during inescapable “heeeey-ohhhhs” but also two medleys of snippets that spanned pop history, from the Isley Brothers’ “Shout” to the Doors’ “Break on Through” to Guns N’ Roses “Sweet Child o’ Mine.”

The band’s stage set is not static, it’s designed for running back and forth, with Armstrong riling up the entire arena during fist-pumpers like “Welcome to Paradise” and letting them feel sentimental during slower songs like the current hit “21 Guns.”

Sometimes it’s really the audience’s show, not Green Day’s. A teen boy wearing leather gloves who was an obvious member of the Fashion School of Pete Wentz screamed his way through “Longview,” his terrible karaoke voice no slight on his four minutes of fame. A 21-year old plucked from the front row first downed a beer, then blasted his way through the complicated guitar parts of “Jesus of Suburbia” like he was born for it, even negotiating with the band’s touring guitarist to take part of the solo.

None of this is new in the rock world –- these are all time-honored tricks of the trade, as is the confetti that spewed over the crowd at the end of “Minority” and the mini acoustic set that closed the show, with the band’s legions singing the treacly “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life).” Yet it’s the way Armstrong and his mates (ace bassist Mike Dirnt and drummer Tre Cool, plus three touring multi-instrumentalists) approach such an old routine that makes it feel constantly fresh, occasionally dangerous and always welcoming.

Never was that more true than when Armstrong picked two young children out of the audience to “save” during the religious-indictment Breakdown track “East Jesus Nowhere.” Mid-song, he had a powwow with the kids –- neither of whom could have been more than 10 years old, both obviously overwhelmed –- instructing them, off mic, what their role would be. Later, as he held his hands on their heads, a blast of pyrotechnics shot off, and both children fell to the ground, mimicking death.

In seconds, Armstrong had played a slew of different roles: a prophet, a rock star, a parent, a director, a murderer. In other words, he kills, no matter how you look at it.

If they weren’t so overshadowed by the headliners, the Scotsmen of opening act Franz Ferdinand (right, also playing Thursday at the Hollywood Palladium) would have made quite an impression on their own. Now a well-oiled machine after years of looseness, their funky take on Britrock was full of mood-setting energy, closing out with a bagpipe-and-percussion jam that showed their sense of humor isn’t just lyrical, but musical as well.

Photos by Michael Goulding, The Orange County Register.

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