Jawbreaker: Bad Scene, Everyone's Fault

25 years plus 2 after seeing Jawbreaker’s Dear You tour at the C.U. student union my college freshman year, I floated across the Willamette River on a Sunday eve to watch them rip an anniversary Dear You show.

Back then, I was (probably) in my bad-posture, thrift-store-cords and studded-belt phase. I do remember the crowd boo-ed the band — Dear You was a “sell-out emo album” and not “punk enough.” I’d only just gotten hip to Jawreaker, though, and I ate up all that college cotton candy about throwing keggers and reading Kerouac. I also remember really digging the drama of the show — the crowd heckling, the band over it, very Dylan-gone-electric Fuck You, on a less important scale. Like, play a basement or an arena — either way your fans only let you be what they already think you are.

Anyway, heading into Sunday I was nervous. Music can be such a nostalgia firehose. I didn't necessarily want to be time-machined back to the wilderness of 17 years old. My decision making was questionable back then — the ’Breaker was there for many of my first biggest life mistakes. But I’m happy to report the show did not wake up any ancient dormant angst volcanos, but rather bathed my 44-year-old brain in a tidal wave of dopamine. It was fun.

Speaking of 40 somethings, I never tire of observing how punks and skaters (AKA fringe people) age. Shit, I am one … and I’m really looking toward y’all older kids to show me what’s next, how to get on in years with some grace and mischief — and without losing my cool. At 54, Blake Schwarzenbach is an interesting specimen. You don’t age out of well-read cleverness and self-deprecating charisma. I quickly remembered why I’ve loved him all my life.

As always happens at every rock show from way back when to deep into some futuristic metaverse eternity, the crowd annoyed me. Specifically a douchey dude and chick — dressed for Coachella, screaming in elation, dancing into everyone’s personal pandy space. Were they on ecstasy? I found myself wondering about them. How did they clue into Jawbreaker? What attracts them to the music … and by extension, what do I have in common with this fedora/Hawaiian-shirt/tube-top-wearin’ duo?

Back then, I was magnetized to Jawbreaker as much for their jams as their ethics. But these kids don’t give two shits about that I suppose. Now that the 90s anathema of “selling out” has been exposed as a myth born of a certain kind of privilege, racism, classism (like, you should turn down the big-label bucks to be poor and brilliant forever, sure, sure). It’s a fairytale of authenticity that died in a puff of sponsored posts and Kanye’s new video dropping in the form of a 3-minute Yeezy X Gap ad … good for him.

But shit, this is music. The cultural context ain’t a pre-req to loving it. Do I have any clue what Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” is really about? Nah. It’s all in the riffs and the wallop.

Then I considered — Jawbreaker is a style and youthful point of view. Jealous at a party. Dumped and dark-hearted. Chill September day, buzzing on hormones and nicotine. Road trip in a beater car. Vulnerability disguised as nonchalance. Ditching class. Fuck you don’t tell me what to do.

That something so purely “90s teenager” could hold a butane torch to these TikTok babes’ hearts? Wow. Love it. That’s art.