Rancid isn’t just a band; it’s a punk rock institution. For many, myself included, they represent the pinnacle of the genre. Declaring them the best band of all time might raise a few eyebrows, but within the punk rock sphere, it’s a sentiment shared by many. Their music is undeniably great, fueled by a DIY ethic and a knack for crafting incredibly catchy tunes, all delivered with a rock ‘n’ roll swagger that’s as authentic as it is raw.
My journey to fully appreciating Rancid, like many others, wasn’t immediate. Initially, their rough-around-the-edges image, the perceived “punk uniform,” felt a bit off-putting. As a teenager, I mistakenly equated subculture signifiers with conformity, missing the point that these signals are often about finding community and shared passions.
My perspective shifted thanks to a high school production of The Diary of Anne Frank and a friendship forged in the wings. I misjudged a classmate named Jason, assuming his mohawk and patch-covered attire signified a poseur. Turns out, we shared a love for punk rock and professional wrestling, and his genuine enthusiasm was infectious. While the play itself was, to put it mildly, a theatrical endurance test, the time spent with Jason backstage was invaluable.
However, even with this newfound friendship and a growing appreciation for punk, Rancid didn’t immediately click. Tim Armstrong’s distinctive vocal delivery, described by music critic Tom Breihan as a “broken-tooth gurgle-slur,” took some getting used to. Funny enough, my first Rancid song obsession was “Olympia, WA,” specifically NOFX’s cover version. I recognized Rancid’s importance in the 90s punk revival, enjoying their live shows and including some tracks in my playlists, but a deep dive was still pending.
That changed when Jason, the aforementioned friend, gifted me the “ultimate” Rancid mix CD. This wasn’t just a playlist; it was a curated experience, complete with liner notes filled with personal anecdotes, trivia, and insights into each song. Listening to this mix in my car for months was transformative. Having a personalized guide to Rancid’s discography, crafted by a true devotee with impeccable taste, made falling in love with the band inevitable.
Among the tracks was “Ruby Soho.” Jason’s liner notes for this particular song were simply: “I don’t think I need to say anything about this.” And he was right. “Ruby Soho” speaks for itself. If you know one Rancid song, it’s likely this one or perhaps “Time Bomb.” Rancid often draws comparisons to The Clash, sharing a similar sonic and ethical DNA. However, “Ruby Soho” feels different, almost echoing the pop sensibilities of bands like The Beach Boys or The Ramones, filtered through Rancid’s signature gritty punk lens.
The magic of “Ruby Soho” lies in its irresistible chorus. Try resisting the urge to sing along when the gang vocals erupt with “DESTINATION UUUUUNNNN-KNOWN RUBY, RUBY, RUBY, RUBY SOHO!” It’s pure, unadulterated pop-punk perfection, undeniably catchy and universally appealing. It’s a song that transcends genre boundaries, becoming an anthem for anyone who’s ever felt the pull of wanderlust or the bittersweet pang of saying goodbye.
“Ruby Soho” isn’t just a great song; it’s woven into personal memories. My wife and I chose it as the second-to-last song at our wedding reception, a moment where friends surrounded us, joyously singing and jumping along. Another cherished memory involves my daughter Grace, then just three years old. Driving her to preschool, “Ruby Soho” played on the radio. As Tim Armstrong sang, “Ruby’s fading out, she disappears it’s time…,” I pulled into the school entrance and turned off the car at that precise moment. Opening her car door, Grace, with perfect comedic timing, chimed in with Tim’s next line, “Time to say goodbye!” The unexpectedness and perfect delivery had me in stitches.
“Ruby Soho” is more than just a song; it’s a cultural touchstone, deserving of its fame and enduring legacy. It encapsulates everything that makes Rancid the best: raw energy, melodic brilliance, and a punk rock heart. It’s the best song from arguably the best band.
The final track on Jason’s mix CD was “Fall Back Down,” a deeply personal song written by Armstrong after his divorce from Brody Dalle. Jason’s liner notes for that song were a heartfelt message of friendship: “You tell me a bunch and I don’t say it enough, but I am so happy you are my friend and you are in my life and I love you. And I hope you think that every time you hear this song.” The sentiment resonates beyond just “Fall Back Down.” It applies to every Rancid song, especially “Ruby Soho.” Thinking of Rancid inevitably brings thoughts of friendship, connection, and shared musical passions. My life is undoubtedly richer because of those bonds and because of the enduring power of Rancid’s music.
Up next: Exploring Lisa Loeb’s “Stay (I Missed You)”.
