In a family tree of popular music that begins with great-grandfather Robert Johnson, stretches down to Chuck Berry, branches off to Buddy Holly, the Beatles, Dylan, Zeppelin, the Ramones, and ends with the birth of Green Day, the Descendents would be the crazy musical uncle, the one who is 45 and in a perpetual state of relationship breakup; lives alone in a one-bedroom apartment with two Fender Stratocasters, one Les Paul, and a Pearl drumset displayed in the living room; mourns the death of Keith Moon each September; wears a white t-shirt and jeans regardless of the occasion; and still maintains his teenage bodyweight of 150 lbs. despite a diet of Ramen noodles, Mexican takeout, and Coors Light. You may not always respect this uncle or trust him around your girlfriend, but he’s the one who put that Sex Pistols album under the Christmas tree when you were still in preschool, he’s the one who first placed the guitar in your hands, and he’s the reason rock music is a part of your life at all.

Perhaps Green Day did not wear out any record needles pining over the Descendents’ 1985 album I Don’t Want to Grow Up, and they might not mention them as a significant influence, but without the Descendents there never would have been a genre of melodic pop-punk for Green Day to capitalize upon. They came first, like it or not, influential or not. They just did it with a little less media attention, a little less theatrics, and maybe a little more respect.

Back in high school, my basement-dwelling musical cohorts and I used to call the Descendents “Happycore.” They were punk-rock, yes, but with an affinity for finger-plucking bass harmonics and ratta-tat-tat drum fills, the kind of music that makes a crowd want to bop up and down but not necessarily slam into each other. Coupled with their sputtering tempo and grungy, bare chords were playfully un-punk, damn near uplifting, Beatle-esque melodies (if the Beatles were souped-up on Red Bull and/or a couple shots of exceptionally potent habanera sauce), and their lyrics told less than controversial tales of benign heartbreak, teen angst, and parental malaise that, unlike their mohawk-and-combat boot wearing brethren, frequently traversed the subterranean world of nerdom. The Descendents are just like us, we thought, middleclass suburbanites loitering at the 24-hour Dunkin’ Donuts, eating sugar packets and wishing they had something extraordinary to bitch about.

Much of what makes the Descendents’ unique vessel so appealing is having enigmatic frontman Milo Aukerman at the helm. If you could splice Rivers Cuomo, Johnny Rotten, and Stephen Hawking and mainline your genetic creation with a steady flow of day-old coffee, Aukerman would be the result. Proven to be both a melodic and intellectual savant (Aukerman holds a PhD in biochemistry), Aukerman’s raspy, au natural vocals, equally bourgeois lyrics, and lanky, eyeglass-stricken aesthetics, somehow perfectly encapsulate the ubiquitous adolescent struggle. (An exact portrait of Milo Aukerman can be seen on the cover of 1982’s Milo Goes to College, 1996’s Everything Sucks, and the band’s most recent studio excursion, Cool to Be You.)

Today, although on semi-permanent hiatus due to Dr. Aukerman’s biochemical toiling with mutant phenotypes (?!) and the rest of the band’s involvement with ALL (ALL = Descendents – Milo + Chad Price), the Descendents still rock. On rare occasions when they do choose to reconvene before a black-lit horde of old-school devotees, the eye-popping stick speed of drummer Bill Stevenson, the dexterous flurry of bass notes from Karl Alvarez, and Stephen Egerton’s snappy guitar licks and bobble head stage presence add to Milo’s passion, which seems eternally frozen in a state of pubescent wanting, letting us know that the true, unfettered spirit of punk rock still lives.

So… Green Day. I have to admit, there’s much about Green Day that rubs me the wrong way. Every time I see Billie Joe lean into a microphone with those wide-stretched eyes and his raccoon makeup, I can’t help but imagine the perpetual surprise of a blowup sex doll. And then there’s that silky red tie that I swear is stolen from the wardrobe of my 8th grade music teacher. And they have contrived hairdos immovably gelled into trendy emo formations. And their drummer goes by the pretentiously corny moniker “Tré Cool,” which, every time I hear it, sends a tiny spew of stomach acid up my esophagus. And, to throw my controversial hat in the ring, I must concur with Noel Gallagher that “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” does sound a little too much like Oasis’ “Wonderwall.” No, it’s not exactly the same, but “Ice Ice Baby” is not exactly the same as “Under Pressure” either. It’s not just the similar chord formations in both songs, what gets me is the wavering electric vibrato in the background of Green Day’s song that syncs perfectly with “Wonderwall”’s flowing cello. I’m not saying they consciously, or unconsciously, stole it. All I’m saying is that every time I hear “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” on the radio I picture Liam’s scowling unibrow.

It would be easy for someone in love with the subversive mystique of early punk music to label Green Day as “Sell Out” to vilify the band’s commercial success over the Descendents as corporate America sinking its greedy jowls into our preciously esoteric underground. But the fact of the matter is, frontman and guitarist Billie Joe Armstrong, bassist Mike Dirnt, and drummer, uh, Tré Cool (gulp), are all amazing musicians. Although not as raw as the Descendents, Green Day’s notes are played with greater precision, sung with cleaner technique, and arranged with more compositional attention. With a catalog of doldrum rantings as well as worldly relevant lyrics, and a tight, addictively energetic live performance, despite my personal preference in regards to their exterior, I might even petition Green Day as the greatest three-piece alt-rock band in history (yes, better than those guys from Seattle).

In the end, I’m a classic punk rock guy and I prefer the Descendents. Their 1991 Best Of album Somery is a must-have for anyone looking to truly appreciate the art of noise. But if you, too, have a contrived emo hairdo, Dookie is one of your Top Five desert island albums, and you’re fervently awaiting this year’s new Green Day release, I understand.

Watch: Descendents “I’m The One” [at youtube.com]

Watch: Green Day “Basket Case” [at youtube.com]

» Previously: Mr. Soul: Neil Young vs. My Morning Jacket’s Jim James