If you were cool, you derided them in middle school for being “sellouts,” but that doesn’t mean that Green Day’s cheesy folk “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)” doesn’t make us all nostalgic for mid-’90s summer camp bonfires.

And luckily for those who still remember those sappy singalongs, and still feel like rebels when they hear “Brain Stew,” Green Day’s newest album, American Idiot (Reprise) is more of the same, this time rock opera-style.

The songs may have grown in length, from Ramones-esque two-minute sound bites to eight-and-nine-minute long ordeals, but Green Day’s musical style seems not to have changed at all. The longer songs are not more musically innovative, just an amalgamation of several shorter songs with similar lyrics. However, lack of musical growth does not mean lack of listener enjoyment—if you appreciated Green Day’s previous eight albums, there is no way not to appreciate this nine-song LP of rehashed punk riffs and power ballads.

The album opens with “American Idiot,” the oddly-chosen title track that is the album’s weaker link. For fans of the major-label-smash-hit Dookie (Reprise, 1994), American Idiot features a chorus with a whiny twinge that sounds suspiciously like “Welcome to Paradise.” For fans of Half Cocked, the song basically is “Bad Reputation” with different words. In fact, the track may have better fitted a spunky female pop singer from the ’80s, like Cyndi Lauper or Joan Jett, than it does Green Day—any minute it feels as though they will break out into a chorus of “I love rock’n’roll, so put another dime in the juke box, baby.”

Loss of innocence and a screwed-up world are the two prevalent themes of the title track, and they continue throughout the album. Lyrics including “age of paranoia,” “the subliminal mind-fuck America,” and “one nation controlled by the media” all suggest the idea of a “Big Brother” corporate world. Unfortunately, lamenting the loss of individuality in society is nothing new for modern punk, and Green Day’s American Idiot does not add new insight to the idea that American culture is numb and conformist.

Luckily, the album improves from there. The rest of the songs stem from the same “we’re screwed” theme, chronicling the misadventures of characters with names such as “St. Jimmy” and “Whatsername.” The rock opera does not reach the depth of The Who’s Tommy (MCA, 1969) but who would’ve expected that from a punk band whose first hit was “Longview,” an ode to sitting at home jacking off.

The longer tracks, like epic nine-minute “Homecoming,” include both the good and bad aspects of classic Green Day. For instance, in “Homecoming,” there is both a monotonous power-chord infused beginning, with what sounds like an entirely different melodic song in the middle. The song also features repetitive hand-clapping and a drum line sound, which serve to spice up the song as compared to the others.

The other longer songs, such as “Give me Novocaine/She’s a rebel” and “Holiday/Boulevard of Broken dreams” are more of the same. They are combinations of slow Green Day ballads with their more traditional three-chord rock songs. The song combinations mesh just as well as the titles—which is to say, not very well at all, but the variety of style is definitely a plus. Having a slow acoustic melody every once in a while gives the eardrums a rest, and accentuates the fun sound of Green Day’s faster riffs.

The highlight of the entire album is the second song, “Jesus of Suburbia.” Once again, Green Day downs the world with allusions to “lost children,” a “city of the damned” and what seems like the theory behind their album: that “everyone is so full of shit.” However, instead of sounding self-righteous and tired, “Jesus of Suburbia” manages to keep the idea fresh. The lament of “hearts recycled but never saved” is oddly endearing, and the idea of a suburban Jesus fed on “a steady diet of soda pop and Ritalin” will strike a chord with many study-obsessed college students.

As a whole, the album melds together enough variety to maintain a listener’s interest through all fifty-six minutes of music. From the tuneful rock ballad “Wake Me Up When September Ends,” to the early-punk “Hey’s!” of “Holiday,” to the echoing tribal drum that opens “Are We the Waiting,” Green Day combines all of their stylistic quirks into one album that varies within it’s nine tracks.

Lots of old quirks mean it is eerily similar, of course, to their previous work. Stick with their older albums, since the rock-opera format really adds nothing—in the end, Green Day is the same “sellout” band from seventh grade, and you’re either a fan or you’re not.