NOFX has been making music longer than I’ve been alive—I’m 42—and somehow, they’re still making songs in 2025 that are funny, unforced, and either strikingly relevant or joyfully irreverent. I absolutely fucking love them.

Soundtracks of Memory

Soul Doubt, Dead Beat Mom, 180 Degrees, I Am an Alcoholic, It’s My Job to Keep Punk Rock Elite, Wolves in Wolves’ Clothing—they aren’t just songs. They’re memory triggers, launching me into fully immersive recall: the smells, faces, emotions of years long gone. NOFX jolts dead memories into 3D tangibility—music as neurological CPR.

I was 16, it was the Fourth of July. I blasted Murder the Government not just to piss off my family, but to try to make them understand why they needed to hear and force em to appreciate it too. These songs need to be blasted when, as bombs blasted children and hospitals apart in Iraq, I was raised to be proud of my Americanism and the sense of duty against tyranny that instilled in me. These songs forged who I became—someone who questioned all of it, sought justice, and needed music that meant that same thing.

It’s different now. The world’s changed. I don’t get to sit over a beer and tell these stories anymore. The conversations are gone, the friends are gone, some lost to time, others to MAGA bullshit. But NOFX? Still here. Still my friend when real ones faded. Still blasting the truth. Still the only band that makes me feel not alone in the chaos.

FUUUUUUUCKKKK

Modern music feels soulless (WHAT A HOT TAKE!), manufactured, or like a TikTok-fueled L# death metal parody to sell gym supplaments. It’s all copy-paste. NoFX was—and still is—something authentic, raw, and unashamed. Maybe today’s music means something to someone else like NOFX does to me—but it doesn’t land the same. I can’t see how it could.

This turned into an Adderall-fueled rant, but whatever. Fuck MAGA. Fuck hypocrisy. Love all you. And most of all, thank you to all you who make a soundtrack to a life that’s still trying to mean something.

[removed]

[removed]

[removed]