One of the things I’ve always loved about punk rock is that you can sing about anything. And I mean anything, from Irish folk songs to politics in America to stuff about some girl you asked out when you were 16.

In high school, about the time my first girlfriend broke up with me (for what would be the first of about three times), someone had introduced me to the Descendents, specifically their album ALL. It was my friend Peter, who was always into weird stuff, not just punk rock (he and I were in band together and I remember him being able to do scat with his trumpet, which I thought was really cool). Anyway, he lent me his copy of ALL and I went home and played the shit out of the record. For about two days. Then, I diligently ripped it onto a cassette tape, forgot to write the track listing down anywhere, and returned it to him.

ALL by the Descendents, released in 1987 on the legendary SST Records, is a great album, and let me tell you why. It’s because the song “Pep Talk” got me through that first heartbreak. Nothing beats fighting the feeling all Thanksgiving weekend that something is up with your girlfriend and then being dumped once you get back home at the start of a school day. Except maybe listening to “Pep Talk” really loud through your headphones at lunch, with your headphones on and greasy cafeteria fries being stuffed into your mouth. Descendents singer Milo Aukerman singing that simple line “It’s not the end of the world, since your baby left you…” somehow made everything better, and I could tell myself “You know what? The singer person with the eyeglasses is right! It’s NOT the end of the world!” Obvious, I know, but hey, when you’ve been in love and you’re that young, sometimes you get pretty stupid and need punk rock to shake you back to reality.

For some, there were bands like the Cure to get through those moments of heartbreak, a band that’s great in their own right. For me though, it was a bunch of nerds who liked coffee, singing about food and girls and never getting laid, and weird instrumental music (the CD and cassette-only song “Uranus”). Not exactly Robert Smith’s poetry, but hey, it did it for me. Sitting in my room or on the steps of a side entrance to my high school, with my Walkman and taped-together headphones, it was all I needed. Hey, “all”! Get it?

That whole album made everything feel better, the more I remember it. From the pride in being a dork in “Coolidge” (which I once heard hardcore band Ensign cover live at my little brother’s first punk show), to the utter fun of “Van” and even the brooding and evil-sounding “Iceman”, somehow that album struck where very few others had. And even though the Descendents have had a long career releasing a lot of great stuff (their 1996 album Everything Sucks is also fantastic), this is the one that I will always call my favorite. It was my gateway album into 80’s hardcore and punk, and though their sound has been ripped off by about 80% of musicians today, no one can really top the Descendents.

I remember loosing the tape once for about a month or two, only to discover it again behind a dresser when I was cleaning. That was the longest and most traumatic month of my life. Finally getting a hard copy on CD was probably the smartest move I ever made because I lost a lot of great bands on tape that way (as well as accidentally taping over them).

It’ll always be in my essential Top 10’s, probably even my Top 5. It’s one of my desert island records and the one that I tell everyone about. First thing out of my mouth when people mention the Descendents is almost always “ALL is their best album, just so you know.”

I think I’m gonna go listen to it again, as a matter of fact. Here, in my van.

Tags: The Descendents, essay //