Sublime: Second-Hand Smoke : Music Reviews : Rolling Stone

Album Reviews

Few '90s showbiz tales are as bittersweet as Sublime's surfboards-to-riches saga. In 1996, with the band on the brink of releasing its breakthrough third album, Sublime, its singer, Brad Nowell, died of a heroin overdose; only after his death did these surf-punk slackers from Long Beach, Calif., reach triple-platinum status. Adding insult to injury, groups like Sugar Ray and Reel Big Fish followed the band up the charts with a similar mix of skanking Jamaican riddims, mosh-pit rave-ups and sunbaked alt rock.

Like many artists who have died young, Nowell is now being honored by an odds-'n'-sods posthumous release. Collecting demos, alternate versions and unreleased tracks, Second-Hand Smoke serves mainly as an unsatisfying scrapbook for aficionados – despite a hyperactive duet with Gwen Stefani ("Saw Red") and a soulful cover of Bob Marley's "Trenchtown Rock," it feels padded (are two remixes of "Doin' Time" necessary?). Smoke does, however, provide some insight into Sublime's melting pot of influences. The remix of "Get Out" indicates that Sublime just might have been the archetypal California band, an unholy union of the Beach Boys and the Beastie Boys: A drum beat borrowed from the Minutemen signifies a tie to L.A. punk, the turntable scratching suggests Sublime's Long Beach homey Snoop Doggy Dogg, while the song's wacky hedonism evokes Fishbone.

The key ingredient, though, is Nowell's teen-idol croon; Sublime's mainstream appeal is tied to their ability to smooth out edgy sounds. Their tries at punk lack urgency, and lyrics like "I'm thinking with my ding-a-ling" (from "Slow Ride") are flaccid attempts at dance-hall-reggae's bawdy grit. Ultimately, Sublime are more like a pleasant contact high than like a hit off the real stuff.