Sublime with Rome, the new touring group playing the Sublime repertoire, was in Oakland this weekend and I sold out my instinct to go watch what I knew would hurt. I'm a die-hard Sublime fan, and with that is a sense that Sublime was Brad Nowell. Nowell died in 1996 from a heroin overdose in San Francsico months before his historic 6-time platinum album was released. The former members, Bud Gaugh and Eric Wilson, tried various attempts to stay in the musical scene but quickly sunk to local band status. Starting off in Long Beach Dub All-Stars, a group of LBC musicians that tried to carry on Brad's vision and energy. LBDAS was honest and they played original songs with stand in vocalists like Barrington Levy. That fell apart after a few years. Eventually Gaugh formed a band with other deceased frontman leftovers from Nirvana and the Meat Puppets. That band was called Eyes Adrift, but never got going. Wilson was in a band called Short Bus that was painful to watch at best. I saw them play in SF and the lead singer ended up farting into the microphone between screams. Ugly.

So I was not sure what to expect from the tour that finally happened, except with a 21-year-old kid named Rome, instead of Brad.

The Good:

I enjoyed being with other Sublime fans, who knew the words and sang them with passion. Sometimes being a Sublime fan comes with some knocks. It was nice to see that Brad's music, was still beloved by so many. The crowd also spanned several generations from kids to old long bearded biker dudes. The band sounded good. Rome was a little effeminate for my liking but I suppose whoever stepped up there would be such compared to the Grizzly Bear that was Brad.

The Bad:

All these songs are Brad's personal history. Each song is about something HE felt and did. This was a tribute band. The more I watched Rome revel in Brad's lyrics and music, the more I wanted Brad back. It's true, you can never go home. Like sleeping in your old room, or thinking of the things you could have done different in life late at night, it was an uneasy feeling that I couldn't sidestep. I kept asking, who the fuck does this effeminate little Mexican kid think he is singing Brad's autobiography up there in front of 10,000 people? Another nauseating moment was when some sloppy biker dude came out and played What I Got. He was introduced like he was somebody, played Brad's song like he was somebody then bounced, I wanted to kick him in the teeth, whoever he was. I never saw Brad play, but I've seen footage and listened to enough live shows to know that he didn't PLAY songs, he experienced them. Each rendition was felt as he played it. The guitar solo in Badfish is one of the saddest pieces of guitar work in all of rock and roll and to see Rome up there with his 'luckiest motherfucker in rock' pose made me sick. I wanted to cry for Brad and his dumb decision that fateful morning to shoot up a lethal mix of heroin and cocaine.

Should they (Bud and Eric) be forced into some sort of rock and roll honor role and not tour the songs they played with one of their best firends? I guess not, this is America. And another band is currently touring and making loads of money off Brad's music anyway, so why shouldn't Bud and Eric? It's their right.  As for me, a fan, I watched little kids with Subliume with Rome tee-shirts run around, older fans sing along and I teared up for Brad and all that he lost. And all that he took away from millions of people when he pushed that needle into his arm. His father, son, wife and fans. But the music is great and there were a few moments where I was able to close my eyes and feel it. But when I opened my eyes, I knew I was watching a cover band. The crowd roared as loud as any I've heard, there was no mention of Brad and I wondered how many people here even knew who Brad was.

And the opening act, The Dirty Heads, were terrible. A bad application of Brad's 'formula'.