Considered a myth, for me it is one of the most nerve-wracking albums in punk rock history, simply the umpteenth stereotype of hackneyed punk rock that poorly mimics the Clash. Comparisons have been made between Rancid and Clash, justified solely by the fact that the Californian band shamelessly copied whatever could be copied from the Clash.
If Rancid started their career well, by the third album they plummet into an abyss. The songs are poorly made, built around catchy and irritating radio choruses like those of "Time Bomb" and "Ruby Soho", with the usual bassist's showing off here and there with solos that aren't easy but not at all beautiful, and Tim Armstrong's distorted singing. The only positive note of the album is Lars Frederiksen, who sings well, plays well, and makes some songs ("Maxwell Murder", "Roots Radical") decent. But nothing shines on this record, throwing in a couple of ska stanzas here and there does not mean experimenting.
The album can't fail to appeal to those who love easy songs with the usual proud punk lyrics, but for those who prefer the more intelligent side of punk, Rancid are crumbs, even if idolized by hordes of adolescents because they sport mohawks and studs and the words "punk rocker" are in every song.
"An album that strikes the right emotional chords and that accompanies in the background the capricious adolescent woes."
"The jolly sortie of 'Time Bomb' offers a moment of respite, thus uncovering the band’s ska roots."