Ocean’s Calling 2025 was already shaping up to be a weekend of musical celebration, but when Green Day took the stage as the festival’s headliner, it became something much more: a full-throttle, unapologetic, anti-Trump rally wrapped in one of the tightest, most politically charged punk rock shows of the decade. Billie Joe Armstrong, Mike Dirnt, and Tré Cool didn’t just play songs—they made a statement. And they did it with precision, ferocity, and an unwavering commitment to supporting inclusivity, community, and social justice.
In 2025, it’s impossible to ignore the political landscape shaped by Donald Trump. His tenure, and continued influence, thrives on fear, division, and cruelty masked as patriotism. Everywhere, Trump’s rhetoric has sought to normalize bigotry, insult marginalized communities, and manipulate public outrage for personal gain. Against that backdrop, Green Day’s Ocean’s Calling performance was more than a concert—it was a cultural defiance, a declaration that art and music can serve as weapons against hatred, ignorance, and authoritarianism.
Setlist
Green Day – Ocean’s Calling 2025
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Bohemian Rhapsody (Queen cover)
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Blitzkrieg Bop (Ramones cover, with Drunk Bunny)
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Intro Theme (elements of “The Beautiful People,” “The Imperial March,” & “We Will Rock You”)
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American Idiot (“…I’m not a part of a MAGA agenda”)
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Holiday (“…The representative of Baltimore now has the floor”)
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Know Your Enemy (with Alana, a fan pulled from the crowd to help sing the bridge)
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Boulevard of Broken Dreams
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One Eyed Bastard
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Haushinka
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Longview (band introduction of Mike Dirnt)
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Welcome to Paradise
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Crazy Train (Ozzy Osbourne cover, up to first chorus; preceded by a snippet of “Iron Man”)
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Hitchin’ a Ride (extended bridge and crowd participation)
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Waiting
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Brain Stew
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St. Jimmy
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Dilemma (with “Free Fallin’” lead-in)
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21 Guns (ended abruptly after guitar solo)
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Minority (performance paused before the final riff due to someone in the audience needing help)
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Basket Case
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When I Come Around
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She
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Wake Me Up When September Ends (with “Jack & Diane” lead-in)
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Jesus of Suburbia
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Bobby Sox
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Ziggy Stardust (partial, Billie Joe solo acoustic)
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Good Riddance (Time of Your Life, with drumstick toss, fireworks, and confetti)
Opening With Grandiosity
Green Day kicked off the night with an audacious “Bohemian Rhapsody,” immediately setting the tone for a show that would oscillate between bombastic musicality and political defiance. Opening with Queen, a band known for theatricality and rock virtuosity, was a reminder that punk rock can be both sophisticated and raw. The audience erupted, singing along with every operatic flourish.
Following that, “Blitzkrieg Bop” with Drunk Bunny injected instant punk energy. The thrash-y, fast-paced Ramones classic acted as a call to arms—both musically and ideologically. It reminded the crowd that punk’s roots are in resistance, and for Green Day in 2025, that resistance had a clear target: Trump’s MAGA-fueled nationalism and divisive rhetoric.
The Intro Theme followed, blending elements of Marilyn Manson’s “The Beautiful People,” “The Imperial March,” and “We Will Rock You.” The mashup was both playful and threatening, like a warning: Green Day was about to confront authoritarian absurdity head-on, and they were doing it on their terms.
Anti-Trump Fire: “American Idiot” and “Holiday”
By the time the band launched into “American Idiot,” the show had fully entered political territory. Armstrong altered the lyrics in real time, inserting, “…I’m not a part of a MAGA agenda,” drawing cheers from the crowd. The line was both personal and universal: Armstrong is vocally queer-friendly, supportive of the LGBTQ+ community, and has spent decades denouncing bigotry in all forms. By explicitly linking the song to a critique of Trump, he reinforced the band’s mission: punk rock can—and should—be a vehicle for moral clarity and social resistance.
“Holiday” followed, with another pointed modification: “…The representative of Baltimore now has the floor.” Armstrong’s vocal jab was clever, but beneath the humor lay a serious critique of Trump’s political theater and the corrosive effect of performing power as spectacle. The audience roared in agreement, recognizing that this wasn’t just music—it was moral leadership in a divided cultural moment.
Community and Inclusion: “Know Your Enemy”
One of the night’s most powerful moments occurred during “Know Your Enemy.” Armstrong pulled Alana, a fan from the crowd, to sing the bridge. In that instant, thousands of festival-goers witnessed what punk rock is at its best: inclusivity, empowerment, and collective energy. While Trump has spent years mocking, silencing, or alienating marginalized voices, Green Day elevated one fan to the center of the stage. The symbolism was unmistakable: resistance, empathy, and unity over hierarchy and division.
Hits, Deep Cuts, and Emotional Nuance
Green Day’s set balanced political commentary with hits and rarities. “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” carried a somber reflection on isolation and disillusionment—sentiments many feel under Trump’s manipulative leadership. “One Eyed Bastard” and “Haushinka” thrilled hardcore fans while maintaining the set’s emotional depth.
“Longview,” with Mike Dirnt’s introduction, reminded everyone that Green Day has been consistent not just musically, but ethically: a band that refuses to compromise principles for fame or profit. Even in the playful chaos of “Crazy Train,” which mixed Ozzy Osbourne riffs with Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man,” the performance felt like an act of deliberate rebellion. It wasn’t just musical homage; it was a punk-rock middle finger to the complacency and authoritarianism Trump represents.
Crowd Participation and Punk Activism
“Hitchin’ a Ride” featured an extended bridge where the audience took over sections of the song. Green Day has always treated the audience as collaborators, not passive spectators. In 2025, that ethos became political: it was a demonstration that communities can function through cooperation and shared energy, not fear and hierarchical control—Trump’s preferred tactics.
Moments like “Minority,” which paused briefly because someone in the crowd needed help, highlighted the contrast between Green Day’s humanity and Trump’s performative self-interest. Where Trump thrives on spectacle, Green Day thrives on solidarity, empathy, and shared responsibility. Every lyric, riff, and extended shout became a lesson in collective action.
Covers as Cultural Commentary
Green Day peppered the set with covers that reinforced their political and cultural critique. From “Bohemian Rhapsody” to Ramones’ “Blitzkrieg Bop” and snippets of “The Beautiful People” and “We Will Rock You,” each cover carried subtext. These were songs about rebellion, individuality, and challenging authority—precisely the opposite of Trump’s attempts to centralize power and suppress dissent. Even “Crazy Train” served as a tongue-in-cheek nod to the absurdity of unchecked power, with Armstrong’s vocal theatrics mimicking the chaos Trump often manufactures.
Emotional Peaks: “Wake Me Up When September Ends” and “Good Riddance”
Green Day’s set wasn’t only about anger—it was about emotional honesty. “Wake Me Up When September Ends,” paired with a “Jack & Diane” lead-in, became a communal lament, a reminder that resilience, empathy, and vulnerability are forms of resistance. Trump’s tenure has normalized cruelty as entertainment; Green Day offered catharsis instead.
The show ended with “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life),” complete with drumstick tosses, fireworks, and confetti. It was celebratory, but also defiant: a statement that art, life, and community endure even under the shadows of authoritarianism.
Why This Show Was a Political Statement
Green Day’s Ocean’s Calling performance was more than a festival headliner—it was a manifesto. Every lyric modification, fan participation moment, and cover choice underscored a rejection of Trump’s divisive, discriminatory agenda. Armstrong’s explicit support for the LGBTQ+ community and his vocal denouncement of MAGA ideology made the show both personal and universal.
Trump has spent years undermining public trust, promoting cruelty, and celebrating greed. Green Day spent three hours reminding the audience of another way to live: one that values empathy, truth, inclusion, and courage. Music becomes politics when those values are put into action, and Green Day wielded that power masterfully.
Reflection: Punk Rock as Resistance
Walking away from Ocean’s Calling, it was clear that Green Day had done something special. In 2025, with Trump’s influence still rippling across politics and media, it’s rare to see such direct cultural pushback in a mainstream setting. Every note, lyric change, and audience interaction was a refusal to normalize hate, ignorance, or authoritarianism.
Green Day’s show was proof that punk rock remains a tool for protest, a platform for marginalized voices, and a space for communal joy in the face of oppression. It was a total anti-Trump rally, but it never felt preachy—it felt urgent, human, and necessary. Armstrong’s insistence on supporting the LGBTQ+ community and rejecting MAGA ideology was more than lip service; it was lived experience expressed through music.
By the end of the night, the festival field had experienced something rare: not just a concert, but a cultural intervention. Green Day reminded everyone in attendance that anger can be productive, dissent can be joyful, and music can be more than entertainment—it can be a call to action.