Good Riddance - Farewell

For a lot of fans who tracked Good Riddance's rise from the Santa Barbara, Calif. punk world to its position as undisputed melodic-hardcore kings in the early '00s, the band's almost a force of nature. Mixing idealist, left-leaning lyrics, sizzingly heavy guitars and enough melody to sweeten both up, Good Riddance seemed to come out of nowhere with 1995's For God And Country to rule the edge hardcore world for nearly a decade and a half.

The truth is, the band didn't come out of nowhere, but just percolated on tiny regional labels as it perfected its sound on a bunch of splits and EPs. Now, with Good Riddance officially a done deal, the band dips back into its vaults and brings those early-days recordings to the surface. It also grabs a few other B-sides and rarities to fatten out the 21-track collection. If Capricorn One stands for anything, it's to remind us that Good Riddance didn't spring fully grown from Zeus' head, but spent years honing its craft in obscurity.

Longtime fans will enjoy watching as Good Riddance feels out its sound on early 7-inch singles, slowly morphing from another generic hardcore outfit into one whose chops and lyrical prowess were so difficult for its peers to match. That pretty much ensures that some of the tunes on the album aren't quite up to the standard Good Riddance would establish by its second album: "Class War 2000" juggles the mouthful of long-outdated fiscal policies like Reganomics and choppy, basic hardcore riffs. "Free" flogs the same ground musically, while singer Russ Rankin mixes his metaphors and targets, lashing out at pro-life activists and (sigh) the police as arms of the same sort of repressive culture. It's a little naïve, it paints in broad strokes, but it's still a good time out.

An early version of "Last Believer" gives fans the best glimpse at the burgeoning powerhouse Good Riddance would become. A slower, more restrained version than the sizzling cut on 1996's A Comprehensive Guide to Moderne Rebellion (Fat), holding it up against the album version is the most clear-cut example of how much the band grew: Capricorn One's version is lifeless and listless compared to the second take. Other songs showcase the band as it begins to hit its stride: There's a "Guilty of Being White" retread in "Me from Adam" that's slightly more than regurgitated Minor Threat, "Patriarch" is a scowling condemnation of American traditions and "Great Experiment," written during the sessions for 2006's My Republic, catches the band stretching its boundaries almost past breaking.

Capricorn One, like just about every other rarities collection by just about every other band, isn't nearly as good as a studio effort. That's to be expected. For a band like Good Riddance that thrived on honesty and openness, getting these old tunes to the fans is poetic: There's no secrets as Good Riddance goes to its grave. Hardcore warriors have to start somewhere, and on this album you'll see where Good Riddance got its start. The climb to greatness doesn't seem quite as steep now, does it? Now get off the computer and go start your own band.