For over a decade the worst thing about Green Day has been Billie Joe. Not the songs – the dude can write – it’s just, y’know, him. But if you swap out a diminutive rockstar for a dozen and a half attractive 20-somethings who raided Mr. Armstrong’s 1993 wardrobe, slap some wireless mics on their faces, stage the whole thing on a two story set with about 30 flatscreens, (think post-apocolyptic Best Buy) and though it ain’t Ibsen, you’ve got a fun night of rock-operetta. And all that is before the Peter Pan wires show up for the flying dream sequence.
American Idiot runs through February 17th.
— Adam Brodsky