Long Beach, where Sublime comes from, is just 94 miles away. Then there’s the large population of Latinx people and the city’s proximity to Mexico, which inevitably impacts the local culture. This is where the appropriation of Jamaican stereotypes and culture comes in. All that is largely tied to its surf and skate culture, which also helped birth its punk and ska scene. For context, the carpet at the San Diego airport has stickers that read “spread good vibes” as a response to COVID. Like Sublime, San Diego (and other parts of Southern California) preaches the gospel of chillaxin’. There are also these fine words from “Caress Me Down”: “Mucho gusto me llamo Bradley / I’m hornier than Ron Jeremy / And if you wanna get popped in your knee / Just wipe that look off your batty face.” Count ‘em: that’s two cultures being appropriated. Take these lyrics from “What I Got,” for example: “Why I don't cry when my dog runs away / I don't get angry at the bills I have to pay / I don't get angry when my mom smokes pot / Hits the bottle and goes right to the rock / Fuckin' and fightin', it's all the same / Living with Louie Dog's the only way to stay sane.”
Sublime was an intrinsic part of my upbringing in San Diego, a city that so prides itself in its sunny and mellow disposition it’s practically the encapsulation of a Sublime song. Their popularity runs deep, and in certain parts of the U.S., they are inescapable. As a result, their audience is massive and wide-ranging: How many bands’ music can you hear played at a frat party, a skateboarding competition, a kickback in the hood, or a Chili’s? Comedian Brian Posehn hit on pretty much all the reason why Sublime is such a divisive band in The AV Club’s Hate Song. It’s easy to make these sort of cliché jokes about the band because they really do epitomize the very concept of cargo shorts music: alternative enough to seem radical but bland enough to be (mostly) inoffensive.
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