Time, though, wore down the rough-hewn edges of Gob’s political and social outlook. Their next album—the 1998 release How Far Shallow Takes You—is, in its insouciance, vastly different from Too Late. The song titles alone reveal as much: The list of tracks list is conspicuously devoid of such titles as “Fuck them” and “Asshole,” two tracks from Too Late. Lyrically, the songs are much tamer, and indicate a shift in focus towards some of punk music’s more marketable themes, like unrequited love, at the expense of the less saleable “fuck you” motif. As it turned out, the band’s new, more marketable sound paid off, as they were able to get How Far (originally released on the relatively small Fearless Records label) rereleased by the larger, California-based Nettwerk Records label.
Also by 1998, Gob was working with the big-budget motion picture industry. They covered The Rolling Stones’ standard, “Paint It Black” for the soundtrack of Artisan Pictures’ feature film Stir of Echoes. Starring Kevin Bacon, the film was released internationally and viewed by millions—about as mainstream as it gets.
It is difficult to envision the early Gob—the Gob that so unflinchingly berated conformity—releasing a cover on a big-budget feature film. And that brings us to Gob’s most recent album, The World According to Gob.
The New Album
The World According to Gob, is, by their own admission, Gob’s most commercial effort to date. There is an extra “merchandise” insert in the sleeve of the CD—an appropriate visual preface to the cushy listening experience that one is about to abide. The album’s opening gesture, “For the Moment” reflects languishingly on past and unrequited love affairs: “But I cling to you for survival / And I know that you are my Bible.” Moderately distorted, muted, heavily punctuated guitar work embraces a delayed lead guitar line; double kick drumming outlines a simple but conspicuously slow tempo, and the crash symbol weaves the disparate strands together. These are all acceptable punk ingredients—or, in the wrong hands, a recipe for nausea. Unfortunately, the latter is the case here. Our first reaction (the gag reflex): Isn’t Blink 182 a bit young to have a tribute band on its coattails? Our second reaction (the cogitative reaction): This is elevator punk—I’m not being challenged as a listener, either musically or lyrically. Our third reaction (put into perspective): Are these really the same guys who put out Too Late…No Friends only five years ago? Unfortunately, the answer is yes.
Then Again
Gob are bad punks, and make no bones about it. So where does that leave those who criticize them in terms of their punk violations? Nursing their own straw men. While their commercial efforts are, in the eyes of most punk rockers, ignoble, even criminal, it is hard to argue with any band who have chosen to share their music with a greater number, to spread whatever message they have (or pretend to have), rather than stroking the angsty egos of a highly insular—and an increasingly elitist and hierarchical—punk culture. They are, in a sense, punks within (or relative to) the punk culture itself—and that’s about as punk as one can get.