I agree. this one has always stood out. Brad and the boys are perfect here. Lou and the SUBLIME tattoo tie it all together. The cover of Crazy Fool is at this show too. Probably my favorite Sublime moment.
Actually they had a ton of amazing live shows. Unfortunately there was not much video coverage back then. Thankfully this show really embodies what most of their shows were like.
3:27 he pulls off that screw-up perfectly lol, he just goes with the flow no matter what when grooving R.I.P. Bradley James Nowell, I'm so sad that I'm never gonna get the chance to meet you
How did I miss this release.. I cherish all this footage with every inch of my heart. ❤ And I'm sure the amazing Jacob does in such a deep way..I wish I had that.. for my father to
This is so tight. I think this was when he cleaned up for a little bit. You can tell just by how good they are all playing. They had such amazing potential. Could of done so much for music. It really fuckin sucks it does.
bmillerdrums I agree, but you can tell he's stoned when he's playing the rarities version, not saying he sucks but as a stoner musician you can just tell lol
Unfortunately I never saw sublime with Bradley but I did see with Rome in Raleigh...it was jammin, plus I got Eric's bass string here threw out in the crowd..... still wasnt Bradley, but still sublime...r.i.p bradley
Dane Calderon This is an old article from Thrasher Magazine. Enjoy ;) I MET BRADLEY NOWELL at the University of California at Santa Cruz in January of 1988. We were both part of a group sociology project assigned to survey the student population for class. This was during skateboarding’s Alva era, when I had long dreadlocks down to the middle of my back. Brad was a huge dancehall reggae fan, and I pretty much wanted to be Bob Marley, so it was only natural that we would strike up a friendship. During the course of our research I was introduced to another famous character, Brad’s 4-track recorder. Brad and I were both aspiring musicians so he invited me over to record a song. The song I chose I’d written while living at home in Ojai, CA, the summer before college. It was called “Celebration,” and the lyrics, admittedly cliché, were an appeal for people to rise up and unify through music; so Santa Cruz. To my credit the song had a catchy turnaround, and Brad made the simple chord progression his muse. The next day Brad called me on the phone and told me he’d re-recorded my song. He said he’d changed it around a bit and he’d written new lyrics, and-the capper-he’d used my name in the song. He assured me that the song was not about me and he’d actually changed the spelling of my name so people wouldn’t get confused. Honestly, I was pretty much offended and a bit weirded out. I mean, first off, he had basically stolen my song. Secondly, he used my name! Then when he started telling me some of the lyrics, I was downright alarmed. There was the part about joining the CIA and the KKK and smoking crack, which, although standard issue UCSC liberal paranoia for the time, was less than flattering. Then there was the “you’ve changed” bit, which in punk rock terms is basically calling someone a sell-out. Finally, the clincher of all clinchers-the guy called me (or Ebin) a Nazi. Hold the fucking presses! I’m Jewish for God’s sake. While my reaction was less than positive, I was more perplexed than anything. I agreed to meet Brad and at least hear the recorded song in full. Upon listening I was struck more than anything by the fact that this guy could sing. He had a beautiful voice-somewhat effeminate, but in a good way, a trait shared by many reggae artists of that era. It was a bit syrupy for my taste at the time, but recognizably good in a pop kind of way. To be completely honest, I was somewhat jealous. Here was this guy taking some serious liberties-and he actually sounded good doing it. Not fair. Why did he have it and I didn’t? I was the guy with dreads; I should sound like that. So I pretty much pushed the entire incident out of my mind. I MET BRADLEY NOWELL at the University of California at Santa Cruz in January of 1988. We were both part of a group sociology project assigned to survey the student population for class. This was during skateboarding’s Alva era, when I had long dreadlocks down to the middle of my back. Brad was a huge dancehall reggae fan, and I pretty much wanted to be Bob Marley, so it was only natural that we would strike up a friendship. During the course of our research I was introduced to another famous character, Brad’s 4-track recorder. Brad and I were both aspiring musicians so he invited me over to record a song. The song I chose I’d written while living at home in Ojai, CA, the summer before college. It was called “Celebration,” and the lyrics, admittedly cliché, were an appeal for people to rise up and unify through music; so Santa Cruz. To my credit the song had a catchy turnaround, and Brad made the simple chord progression his muse. The next day Brad called me on the phone and told me he’d re-recorded my song. He said he’d changed it around a bit and he’d written new lyrics, and-the capper-he’d used my name in the song. He assured me that the song was not about me and he’d actually changed the spelling of my name so people wouldn’t get confused. Honestly, I was pretty much offended and a bit weirded out. I mean, first off, he had basically stolen my song. Secondly, he used my name! Then when he started telling me some of the lyrics, I was downright alarmed. There was the part about joining the CIA and the KKK and smoking crack, which, although standard issue UCSC liberal paranoia for the time, was less than flattering. Then there was the “you’ve changed” bit, which in punk rock terms is basically calling someone a sell-out. Finally, the clincher of all clinchers-the guy called me (or Ebin) a Nazi. Hold the fucking presses! I’m Jewish for God’s sake. While my reaction was less than positive, I was more perplexed than anything. I agreed to meet Brad and at least hear the recorded song in full. Upon listening I was struck more than anything by the fact that this guy could sing. He had a beautiful voice-somewhat effeminate, but in a good way, a trait shared by many reggae artists of that era. It was a bit syrupy for my taste at the time, but recognizably good in a pop kind of way. To be completely honest, I was somewhat jealous. Here was this guy taking some serious liberties-and he actually sounded good doing it. Not fair. Why did he have it and I didn’t? I was the guy with dreads; I should sound like that. So I pretty much pushed the entire incident out of my mind. sublime PQ1 750px Fast-forward a year or so and I received a letter at my mom’s house in Ojai. Brad had tracked down my address from his ex-girlfriend who was still enrolled at UCSC. The letter informed me that Brad had formed a band called Sublime and he wanted permission to record “Ebin” as their first single. At the time I was in a band of my own called Stranger Than Fiction, and we were performing “Celebration," my version of the song. I figured Brad had about a hamster’s chance in hell of going anywhere with the tune, and I never even wrote him back. But I did keep the letter just in case. I stored it in a special box where I kept my old ticket stubs and love letters from past girlfriends. After a few years I decided it was too nancy to keep a letter from a dude with my sentimental keepsakes, and I threw it away. In 1994 I was working in the ad department at Thrasher and SLAP. One day I spoke to a girl who was struck by my name. It was the name of a song by her favorite group, Sublime, she said. She had a bunch of copies of 40 Oz To Freedom and offered to send me one. I listened to “Ebin” but made no connection. The words were weird and somewhat insulting, but I thought it was funny how they repeated my name over and over… A while passed and one day Brian Brannon, Thrasher’s former music editor, dropped a promo single of “Ebin” on my desk. Skunk Records had sent it to him in anticipation of Sublime’s upcoming major label release. When I got home I listened to the track. I was stoned in my room when I realized, “Man, that hook sounds so familiar. Where have I heard this? Oh Shit! Is this that song? That guy Brad, from school? Could it be?” I rushed over and found the album since the single didn’t even have a sleeve. I looked at the pictures. “Is it? Is that Brad?” I checked the liner notes. “Bradley,” close enough. “Wow! This is my song. Right, Sublime, now I remember. Weird… That’s cool.” When I went back to work I called Skunk Records. They thought it was funny that my name was Eben, and I was like, “Yeah, I’m Ebin. Well, I’m not Ebin, but that’s my song. I went to school with Brad at UCSC.” If they were skeptical they didn’t show it and even agreed to tell Brad I said “what up.” They also sent me some swag, and said the next time Sublime played SF they’d hook me up with passes and facilitate a reunion. When I got the box I was stoked. Included was a copy of "Robbin’ the Hood" as well as a T-shirt with a Tabasco logo bite that I really liked. They also sent me some stickers with “Sublime” written in old English Vato writing that reminded me of the punk rock scene growing up in Oxnard and Ventura. I started listening more closely to my Sublime CDs and developing a true appreciation for the music. I even started to like the song “Ebin.” The thought of seeking compensation for co-writing the song did occur, but seemed like more hassle than it was worth. I resigned myself to the fact that Brad took my song and made it cool. He made it much better than I ever did. I’m grateful for that. Brad’s gift as a songwriter was in his ability to fuse disparate styles and blend them into something new. To be a piece of that puzzle is a huge honor and puts a smile on my face. I never did have that reunion with Brad. On May 25th, 1996, he died of a heroin overdose in a San Francisco hotel room. To Brad’s family, I send my condolences. To those that miss him and were touched by his music, I say we are so lucky. To Bradley James Nowell, I want to say thank you.
Out my window, cool and bright Fade so slowly into night Funny how things look the same Now that my friend Ebin's changed Ebin was a cooly that I used to know Now he's down with the PLO He's cold kickin it live with the KKK No JVC, no JFA Cooly was sportin' black tennis shoes Dealing, he was looking for something to use With a pistol in his pocket and a bottle of booze Well, it could be me or it could be you Oh, feels like my whole life is rearragned Ebin, you changed Ebin, Ebin, Ebin, Ebin you Oh, how you changed Oh, you changed Oh, how you've changed I give you a hard time Didn't want to stay Got outta jail just the very next day It's plain to see My friend Ebin is a Nazi He was a Nazi, yeah, yeah, yeah Now he's down with the CIA We got covert operation in Vietnam With hitmen and assasins and the real live bomb He went down to protect his country Eat Mexican food and make lots o' money Come back up north and drive a big white car And take a silver plane down to Nicaragua Well it feels like I'm the only one to blame Oh, Ebin you changed Ebin, Ebin, Ebin, Ebin you Oh, you changed Oh, you changed Oh, how you changed I give you a hard time Didn't want to stay Got outta jail just the very next day Now it's plain to see My friend Ebin is a Nazi He was a Nazi, yeah, yeah, yeah Out my window cool and bright Day so slowly into night Funny how things look the same Now that my friend Ebin's changed
Why is it that good music always has few views, go to sone stupid mainstream music and millions of views, wtf has the world come to,don't people know good music when they see,obviously not
ebin is my name my parents named me after this song and when i just found this music video i legit feel weird cause i have no idea who these people are
amanda clark lol,you havnt looked hard enough,my bros band just played a gig on the west side @ my homies squader pad, Punk mainly is what these guys play but I've been practicing a lot of sublime songs while TRYIN to sing em
