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The mother of Jawbox at the end of the first year of high school ("Grippe") went to collect the report card. The teacher told her: "Madam, your children are a failure. They don't apply themselves, they don't even try to do the maximum with the minimum. They just settle... it's fine that this reform wants them lazy of mind and well-dressed, but your children could be big shots in these nineties... try giving them a private tutor."
The mother of the Jawbox, a reasonable woman, as soon as she got home did the first right thing to do: she slipped the belt from the loops of her jeans and let them taste the pure Kentucky bovine leather. Exhausted, she did the second right thing and called Professor Bill Barbot. The boys, intimidated by the thrashing, buckled down and managed to graduate with honors ("Novelty") complete with the academic kiss from the janitor and the somersault from the teacher at the state high school Dischord. The boys had managed to become big shots of the nineties and their mother, who could count quite well, told herself it was time to send them to university (Atlantic).
The Jawbox at university wasted no time as they still remembered the sound that pure Kentucky bovine leather makes on the back, and at the cost of looking like Nerds, they gave up pills, light drugs, and philosophy faculties ("For Your Own Special Sweetheart"). Bent over their books, they graduated, but like most university students, they ended up twiddling their thumbs closed off in a plastic rectangle piled on some shelf of any record store.
You will get lost in this album, guaranteed lemon-wise. You will get lost among the riffs and stunning syncopations of "Savory"; you will swim in the Fugazi-like Hardcore of "Breathe"; your veins will swell from singing along with "Motorist"; you'll think of Pixies seduced by Helmet when you arrive at "Cooling Card"; with "Green Glass" you'll throw away your Foo Fighters records (assuming you have any); "Jackpot Plus" will use you as a pinball for a round of pinball, "Reel" will move you as it hasn't happened since the days of Husker Du, and you will be grateful for it; "Withney Walks" will give you the final blow, you'll think that these were really among the top of the class: it will be love.
Oh, still there? This is a big record. Move it!
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 FF=66 (02:41)
(He invites the storm.
He lives by instinct,
With fears that are not fears,
But prickles of ecstacy.)
This code is cracked
I don't expect whatever I spat out to stick
Awash in the signs, sick from the lack
Spliced in, spliced in
Second-hand words and screen for skin
Forcing out sounds, facing outside again
Reified and refined, blurring every line
Just want a way not to be what gets sold to me
FF=66 explains you're sick
Spins on the axis od promise and lick lack luck
Reveals all tricks
Reified and refined, blurring every line
Just want a way not to be what gets sold to me
FF=66, FF=66
Six, six feet deep in the irony
You'll see the light, it's getting bigger
02 Savory (04:39)
Hey angel, consider your position
Framed to be consumed
Savory
Savoring your sympathy
Hey angel, fly over and bless me
See you feign surprise
That I'm all eyes
And you're all you need to be
Hey angel, whatever position
We consider fit to put you in
You'll protest your complicity
Easy now
One hand will wash the other
One hand will wash the other
Hey angel, fly over and bless me
See you feign surprise
But I'm all eyes
And we're all we need to be, need to be
Easy now
One hand will wash the other
One hand will wash the other
03 Breathe (02:49)
A minute,
a second,
a half-life,
a minus,
a segment,
a blinder,
elective detention.
It's secession time,
paid for by cutting backwards.
It's election time,
letting every insult become presidential injury.
(I'm begging you just hold my head up)
This last disgrace,
breathe in my face,
bleed in distaste,
bless this amen.
Your final lesson.
A minute,
a second,
a half-life,
a minus,
a second
reminder,
selective attention.
It's secession time,
paid for by cutting backwards.
It's election time,
letting every insult be accepted into history.
(I'm begging you just hold my head up)
This last disgrace,
breathe in my face,
bleed in distaste,
bless this amen.
Your final lesson.
(Now)
This last disgrace,
bless this amen.
Final lesson.
(Now)
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