Jejune were Chris Mendez Vanacore, Joe Guevera and Araby Harrison. A trio formed at Berklee, in Boston, and subsequently tied to San Diego’s post-hardcore scene. Active between 1995 and 1999, they recorded two albums, and at the time of their spilt had started a third. Numero Group’s retrospective, “Wait A Lifetime”, collects everything from all of these sessions. There are a total of 37 tracks, including alternate takes, a couple of remixes*, plus a bonus 7” containing a respectful, faithful Smiths cover. 

The music mixes US and UK indie, Sarah Records and the mosh pit. While the friends share vocal duties, often coming together on close harmonies, the collection, frequently within an individual song, is very schizophrenic. Often sounding like 2 or 3 completely different bands. Perhaps this is what eventually pulled the group apart. Driven by loud punk, power pop chords, but then alternating between quiet introspection and cathartic noise. Moody, melancholic jangle, Orange Juice-inspired “shambling” juxtaposed with tortured metal shredding. Many of the tracks featuring very un-punk guitar hero solos. 

For example, initially catchy and jangly “Regrets Are Unanswered Dreams” could be The Sundays before it bursts into Radiohead / “The Bends“-like riffing. The song structures going through awkward, angular changes. Tracks, such as as “Indian Giver” echo the post-rock of Slint. “Morale Is Low” begins fragile but climbs to screams and shouts. Its pensive picking transforming into joyful frenzied thrashing. “Spiderland” jammed by Dinosaur Jr.

“The Highs And Lows” adopts sugary, wordless 60s bubblegum choruses, a la  “All Fall Down” era Primal Scream, while “Figured Out” rocks angry and hard, recalling Rage Against The Machine. On songs such as “Fixed On The One” and “2000 Miles”, lyrically and tonally, sometimes, I can hear Elliot Smith. Beautiful, wounded, broken ballads that build to transcendent freak outs. For stuff such as “Solar” and “Coping With Senility”, Teenage Fan Club are a touchstone. Almost everything moves from moments of quiet into head banging oblivion. Exploding into ecstatic, crazy clipped runs. Drum kits crashing. Feedback flailing. “That’s Why She Hates Me” is an angsty, hugely life-affirming racket. A flashback to the frustration of inarticulate youth, when every argument was won by whoever threw the best punch. 

In the early 2000s, I was briefly writing about music for a skateboard magazine. The guy who got me the gig, was another writer, effectively my editor, who’d been a professional skater. I was in my 30s, just become a dad, and hadn’t been on a board since my teens. He was into a lot of US “indie”, stuff like Jejune. At the time I didn’t really get it, but now, for me its totally inseparable from the whole skate aesthetic. 

I don’t know what I was expecting skaters to listen to. I guess it’s the same blinkered ignorance that assumes hip hop is just rap. The music in my mate’s collection, the sides like Jejune, were much more about being young – optimism and a DIY attitude than any pigeon hole or genre. It was all about getting up and doing it, ignoring any obstacles. Adopting an outsider, outlaw stance. Teenage rebellions. Ramshackle rhythms. Loose, untutored lyrics about desire and heartbreak. Kids attempting to honestly articulate their emotions. Raw, yawps and roars. The dramatic, dynamic chops and turns, switches in tempos, now forever paint pictures of skaters working on tricks. In the process repurposing city concrete. Transforming streets into art. 

*The 2 remixes, of course, are not representative of Jejune’s overall sound, but are both really interesting, and demonstrate the band’s willingness to experiment. Lowlife (Version), as its title suggests, is drop into dubwise, extravagant filtering and EQing. Grace (Wizard Glick Is Swimming) flickers, beatless, full of birdsong like an ambient techno take on Durutti Column’s “Sketch For Summer”. 

Jejune’s “Wait A Lifetime” can be ordered directly from Numero Group.