"I am dreaming of the life, and it's not the life that's mine..."
Confession: I am a huge Blake Schwarzenbach fan.
I don't think that a day has gone by since the first time I heard him on a record where I haven't had a snippet of lyrics or a chunklet of melody that came from him in my head. Yes, I am aware that this makes me sound like some nerdtastic fanboy. I assure you, I am not -- I'm just a guy who fucking loves music and appreciates well-crafted songs, which Blake surely excels at if you look at his entire body of work. I know there are people out there who feel as though he reached the pinnacle of his abilities with Jawbreaker, but for my money Jets To Brazil’s Orange Rhyming Dictionary [released by Jade Tree Records in 1998] is as close to perfect as can be.
Maybe it was the period of time in my life. Maybe it was the lyrics. Maybe it was J Robbins’ stellar production. Maybe it was just the right record at the right time. All I know is that Blake was on point -- melodies crashing into guitar parts crashing into my broken head, colliding and leaving a mark that causes me to break out this album all the time for repeated listening.
"...in a stolen car I rocket west, out past that Jersey line."
Almost everyone I know was disappointed in Jawbreaker’s last album, Dear You. I wasn’t. I felt like that record, as over-produced and as slick as it sounded in places, was still a viable document for what Blake was all about. ORD kind of took all of that, slowed it down and then cleared away some of the murk to show you the bottom of the [B]lake. Adding fresh blood [Jeremy Chatelain from Handsome and Chris Daly from Texas Is The Reason] certainly allowed Blake some room to play with melodies and structure. The atypical Jawbreaker formula of four-chord guitar patterns, steady drums and melodic but plodding basslines was opened up a little wider with this new band. Jets To Brazil were able to play with tempo and meter much more, as songs like "Starry Configurations" and "Chinatown" were able to stretch out and show you their scars before hitting you over the head with the distorted choruses. Using the dual guitar interplay to their advantage, cuts like "Resistance Is Futile" sound almost New Wave-ish, with over-driven and processed guitars acting like synthesizers.
Jets To Brazil were certainly not going to be Jawbreaker v2.0.
In the moments that are Jawbreaker-esque, JTB still reaches beyond that band’s template -- as if Blake is saying, “look, man -- I can fly this way, too.” Opening the album with three massive sounding numbers in a row certainly didn’t hurt, and when you add the fact that Blake's lyrics easily stand alone from the rest of his peers, it’s hard to deny that when this album came out he was converting plenty of people to “his way of thinking.”
Yes, the lyrics. Just take this small piece from the album-closing anti-heroin anthem "King Medicine" for example:
you're such a willing stick to
beckon that wanting knife and
you've been looking for it
the right blade all your life
saying "who's gonna cut me
down to a size that suits me?
is there a worthy sculptor
among all you fine young knives?"
I suppose part of the reason why I feel so attuned to Blake's work is our shared love of Kerouac. I can feel some of Jack's madness hidden in these songs, eeking its way out between breaths, between notes. Hell, "I Typed For Miles" is all about Kerouac writing On The Road, if the information I've found out there is to be believed -- so, there is that.
Blake is now an adjunct English Professor at Hunter College here in NYC. He has a new band, forgetters, playing sporadic house parties and the occasional venue around Brooklyn.
I'm just glad he made this record. It has been a good friend to me.
INSTANT KARMA:
Morning New Disease -- Live
Resistance Is Futile -- Live
Chinatown -- Live
King Medicine -- Live
