blink-182
– Enema of the State
This is the sound of three man-children skateboarding through the ashes of ‘90s alt-rock while flipping off seriousness like it owes them lunch money. Enema of the State isn’t deep. It isn’t complicated. But that’s exactly what makes it tick. It’s a sugar rush of teenage anxiety, horniness, and fart jokes wrapped in shiny hooks and faster-than-you-remember drumming. Blink-182 didn’t invent pop-punk, but they sure managed to make it stupidly catchy and somehow even more stupidly emotional.
Best of…
Travis Barker’s arrival behind the kit is the real game-changer here. He’s not just keeping time—he’s jet-propelling these three-chord anthems into something sharper and more urgent. Meanwhile, Tom DeLonge’s nasal whine and Mark Hoppus’ basement-dad baritone trade verses like stoned sitcom roommates arguing over who used the last of the Red Bull. There’s an art to being this dumb and this sincere at the same time, and Blink figured out how to sell both to the MTV generation.
What really drives Enema home is its ability to swing from juvenile to devastating in the blink of a drum fill. One minute it’s all high school locker room snark, the next it’s gut punches about growing up too fast and feeling like an alien in your own body. Blink doesn’t solve anything. They just yell it louder. And sometimes that’s enough.
Choice Tracks
Dumpweed
It starts with a twitchy riff and explodes into frustration. Tom’s riff is all nervous energy, like a brain trying to punch its way out of your skull. It’s angry, dumb, and weirdly heartfelt.
What’s My Age Again?
The eternal man-child anthem. Infectious to the point of delirium. It’s self-deprecating but doesn’t apologize for it. It’s not about refusing to grow up—it’s about admitting you never learned how.
Adam’s Song
The real curveball. A letter from the ledge, and maybe the first time Blink fully committed to being serious. It lands hard because it’s simple. No metaphors, no artifice—just fear and regret and a last-second hope.
All the Small Things
Bubblegum with piercings. It’s so dumb it’s brilliant. If you didn’t scream the chorus at least once in 1999, you probably weren’t paying attention.
Anthem
The closing shot—disillusioned and restless. A reminder that under all the dick jokes and punk gloss, Blink always had a sneer for suburbia and a soft spot for kids who felt stuck there.