But whatever the band was selling with American Idiot didn’t keep. Green Day’s new suburban fans will buy it they don’t remember the band’s bratty days, and instead fell in love with Billie Joe’s pegged pants. But Bullet in a Bible is just self-indulgence packaged as memory. (There’s nothing here as hilariously cheesy as “The Road,” but a few of Armstrong’s interview segments on the DVD have the clichéd “I don’t know/We do so many shows in row” air of the traveling rock superstar.) The set is loud, and Tré cool’s bass drum often resounds like he’s banging a huge pedal on the side of Texas Stadium. They can’t return to Dookie's frolic, can’t preach danger and fun when all they’re really making with Bullet in a Bible is a Green Day’d version of Running on Empty. But here’s Bullet in a Bible just in time for the holidays, the commercialistic addendum to Idiot's supposed apathetic anthems. They might have meant to beat against the Head Redneck’s agenda, might have wanted to bury a punk rock pipe bomb at the intersection between populist politics and the Blue Collar Comedy Tour. With American Idiot they have a real problem, because, as Bullet in a Bible’s very existence proves, their big Message Record is also a Monstrous Hit. At least those songs are from an era when Green Day sounded like a band that didn’t give a shit. Green Day continue through the “Jesus of Suburbia” suite, “Holiday,” and “Are We the Waiting” before throwing in “Longview” for old times’ sake, which leads into “Brain Stew” and “Basket Case” for the only stretch when Bullet sounds really alive. “I’m not a part of a redneck agenda!” Armstrong rails at the disc’s outset, and the crowd of 65,000-plus go completely bonkers. That’s what the band's new CD/DVD set Bullet in a Bible documents, recounting their show this past summer at the National Bowl in Milton Keynes. But American Idiot’s rage seems more like artifice now, especially when it’s performed from a stage of Stonesian proportions. In theory Green Day’s still singing to those suburban mudslingers, the ’90s kids who grew up to find only apathy, fear, and nothingness beyond the fast food wrappers and blaring televisions. “September” itself was the soggiest, a melodramatic wallow in the vein of “Good Riddance.” And it contained none of the danger and fun that Billie Joe Armstrong had congratulated himself for bringing back to rock’n’roll during his acceptance of the Best Rock Album Grammy for American Idiot. The record still had its thematic scope, and subtitled set pieces, but with the singles played to death it was starting to sound really, really flat. But by “Wake Me Up When September Ends” it was unclear what Idiot was supposed to mean in the first place. And “Holiday” had its “HEY!”s and “AMEN!”s. Sure, there was the thrilling riff and yawp of the album’s title track, way back when. More than a decade later, their superstardom is a mascara-clouded mess of sloganeering, middle age, and punk rock lip service, and the firebrand moments in 2004’s American Idiot diminish with every millionth unit shifted. Back then they smirked at the world from underneath green hair dye, and goaded suburban children into gleeful mud fights. Over the past two years, Green Day have reclaimed their Dookie platform of yore.

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