ALEX DE VORE
S FR E P O RTE R .CO M / ARTS
Save Your Generation BY ALEX DE VORE a l e x @ s f r e p o r t e r. c o m
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y the time emo-punk trio Jawbreaker’s 1995 stunner Dear You made its way to me in 1998 or 1999, the band had been broken up for years. The legend goes something like, singer-guitarist-songwriter Blake Schwarzenbach and bassist Chris Bauermeister came to blows by the side of the road, mid-tour, after years of mounting pressure, a massive signing bonus with Geffen and punk-wide sellout accusations from the Bay Area scene that helped birth the band. According to the 2017 documentary Don’t Break Down: A Film About Jawbreaker, the fight broke up, Schwarzenbach and Bauermeister got back in the van with drummer Adam Pfahler and returned home, and that was that. Meanwhile, the mythos surrounding Dear You grew, particularly, I think, among nerdy punk and emo-obsessed teens who felt, perhaps naively, that they were alone in the world. But whereas the prevailing emo logic of the day dove often into mi-
How finally seeing Jawbreaker punctuated my pandemic feelings
sogynistic, one-sided rhetoric a la, “How could you do this to me?!” Jawbreaker’s “Why do *I* do this to me?” introspection coupled with Schwarzenbach’s literary influences, Pfahler’s chaotic tempo shifts and Bauermeister’s borderline mournful bass lines made for songs that were not only universally appealing, but worthy of self-reflection. These songs weren’t blaming anyone, and they certainly weren’t about whining over girls or boys or enbys not liking you and why that made them worthy of hate. Instead, they were about regretting pride, trying to cling to the last vestiges of strength and about working out why, or if, you even liked yourself, and where you’re supposed to go from there. “What’s the meanest you can be to the one you claim to love?” Schwarzenbach croons on “Accident Prone;” “I don’t think I hate you enough to commit you to me,” he laments on “I Love You So Much it’s Killing Us Both;” “Congratulations to you both I hope somewhere you’re happy,” he offers on “Sluttering.” Dear You is, plainly, a masterpiece, but for much of the fanbase, it and a couple other records were all we had to cling to, and hopes of a reunion were
A&C
be there’s a whole lot to unpack in seeing a band that spent so many years refusing to perform, even as promoters reported offering them absurd payouts. I don’t take for granted the myriad emotions that went into the sheer joy I felt at seeing them live, but I also think there’s much to be said for the timing, too. COVID-19 is not over yet, particularly for the immunocompromised. But restrictions have relaxed and people are more willing to gather than we’ve been in years. We can make informed decisions about how and where we spend our time. We can feel less fear. Had this show come together even six months earlier, it might have been a different conversation, but—and shoutout to Denver’s Fillmore Auditorium for taking vaccination proof seriously—the opportunity to experience a punk version I built up Jawbreaker of mass catharsis along with so many othin my mind for more than two decades, ers who’d never experienced Jawbreaker and they delivered so live felt worth the risk, and it feels like a hard. turning point: We screamed along with strangers, sans-masks. We laughed at Schwarzenbach’s mid-show banter. We repeatedly dashed. Until 2016, when rum- made predictions about what non-Dear blings of a possilble Jawbreaker show start- You songs might appear during the set. ed reverberating amongst aging punks. And when Schwarzenbach returned to the That following year, they reunited to play stage solo to kick off a brief encore with Chicago’s Riot Fest, and an entire gener- the song “Unlisted Track,” it felt meaningful to once again embrace ation of feelings-havperformance as therapy. ers who never got the “You might show some chance to see one of the Whereas the interest,” he sang, “your most impactful bands of world looks good enough their era finally had an prevailing emo logic to eat.” opportunity. In that moment, it was. I’m one of those feelof the day dove often Through the cancellaings-havers, which is into misogynistic, tions and the deaths and partly how it came to the dying, the suffering pass that a carful of New one-sided rhetoric of those we love and have Mexico yahoos recentnever met before, we’ve ly spent way too much a la, “How could clung to the idea that our time, money and effort you do this to me?!” world is worth sacrifice. to visit Denver where, at There, in a room with a long last, Jawbreaker Jawbreaker’s “Why old friends, new friends performed almost all of Dear You alongside do *I* do this to me?” and a sea of people who’d waited for that moment some other songs from introspection...made since they first heard previous records, and Schwarzenbach implore where a band I’ve loved for songs that were us to “Save your generadesperately blew my tion,” we didn’t find ourever-loving mind alongnot only universally selves bogged down by all side seminal punk quarappealing, but worthy we lost, but rather enamtet Descendents (who, ored with the things that frankly, warrant their of self-reflection. might still come to pass. own column about feelIronic given the age of ings, but thats’ for anthe songs, but another reother day). It took me nearly 25 years to see minder that music is one of the best things Jawbreaker live, but I did it, and it was ev- we do, and some of it transcends everything erything. Maybe there’s something to be else to provide the comforting reminder: said for having built up expectations for We just want to be happy half the time, and more years of my life than not, or may- blue only when we have the time. SFREPORTER.COM •• APRIL APRIL 13-19, 13-19, 2022 2022 SFREPORTER.COM
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