Jawbreaker is one of those bands. One of those bands that the kid who lived above the record store in Chicago told you about back in junior high when you could still write out every lyric off Dookie from memorization (and before those Bush T-shirts became too embarrassing to wear to school). Jawbreaker was the band that a ton of kids fell in love with from mixtapes and older brothers and punk head shops.
Jawbreaker established itself as the premier punk outfit after three unbeatable albums: 1990’s Unfun, 1992’s relentless classic Bivouac and the following year’s 24 Hour Revenge Therapy. But then the band unwittingly dropped itself into an ideological feeding frenzy, signing to DGC on a million-dollar, three-album deal. These were the days when selling out was still a huge deal. Blake Schwarzenbach’s seemingly polished vocals sounded like a band dying for a radio hit, although Jawbreaker’s natural progression was rolling along smoothly. Long-time fans didn’t bite, but they did bite back. Throngs of angry trend-setting punk kids bought Jawbreaker tickets only to boo relentlessly during the new songs. The band’s DGC debut, Dear You, couldn’t sell enough to keep the band together and was until recently an out-of-print, cherished rarity.
In retrospect, it’s easy to see the effect of Jawbreaker on every proto-punk and emo group in existence today. Schwarzenbach’s heart-break tales, bubbling over with high-school vernacular and cool-kid dialogues about nose piercings and cute girls, could pass off as a Midwestern punk outfit fronted by Richard Butler (the reissued Dear You even finds Jawbreaker covering the Psychedelic Furs’ “Into You Like a Train”) or as the latest offering from Vagrant or Jade Tree.
Now Jawbreaker drummer Adam Pfahler has reissued Dear You on his record label, Blackball, which released Jawbreaker’s B-side collection Etc. two years ago. The new version of Dear You is sublimely listenable and seems more like an emotional band pouring itself into the studio (the album was produced by Rob Cavallo [Green Day] in eight weeks) than a punk band selling out. The reissue is a more complete record, packaged with five rarities that sound perfectly at home at the album’s tail end. It’s also easy to hear the band as it rips itself into a thousand fractured pieces, flayed in a thousand different directions by isolationist scene philosophy.
The collection drifts in and out of narrative, loosely balanced by outcast drifter tendencies and an intense drive to make out. “Bad Scene, Everyone’s Fault” is a kegger tale about stealing beers and guiltily rocking out to Led Zeppelin. The two-minute mini epic ends abruptly (and at the peak of a couple’s argument) with, “Then the cops showed up.” Jawbreaker keeps the album moist by not completely draining the tracks of all humor, a common pitfall for younger punkers.
The slashed-heart, relationship epilogue “Fireman” stews with overwhelming girl-trouble angst as Schwarzenbach lays out the too-late-to-hurt zingers: “Dreamed I was a fireman / I just smoked and watched you burn … Dreamed we were still going out / Had that one a few times now / Woke up to find we were not / It’s good to be awake.” The melodies never let up, every track is an inevitable sing-along backed by a thousand Marshall amps.
“Save Your Generation” is the chugging, muted string anthem that immediately kicks Dear You into high gear. Lyrics like, “I will stay young / Young and dumb inside,” could be Jawbreaker’s mission statement, simplicity laced with brutal truth and honesty.
“Chemistry” chronicles the high-school hottie that’s so punk she’s pushing the curve ahead for everybody, as a lonely dweeb watches her ditch school from a science-class window. “Lurker II: Dark Son of Night” documents a suburbanite’s descent. It’s a murky, darkly themed tune with a heavy-metal title. It’s easy to see why Jawbreaker earned a slot opening for Nirvana on the In Utero tour.
The closer, “Boxcar,” is a high-speed confessional lambasting the scene’s elitist tendencies. The song begins with the comical whine, “You’re not punk and I’m telling everyone,” which is quickly countered by, “Save your breath / I never was one … I was passing out while you were passing out your rules.”
Dear You is a second chance at life for Jawbreaker to reach new fans, although Schwarzenbach and bass player Chris Baurmeister can still be heard in their band Jets to Brazil. Jawbreaker’s career may have died eight years ago, but the band’s music still breathes fresh air into the scene it helped to create.
