This
collection, culled from the oeuvre of the Jackson, Mississippi-spawned
Windbreakers, is essential for any musical completists out there, and a
great listen for anyone else. The 
Windbreakers
were one of the many southern bands during the eighties who spurned the
good-ole boy feel of southern rock in favor of a sound that harkened back
to the jangle of the Byrds and to power-pop pioneers like Big Star and
the Flamin’ Groovies. Often clustered around Mitch Easter and his
Drive-In Studio, these groups included Easter’s Let’s Active, the Dbs,
and some band called R.E.M.
The
Windbreakers have drawn creative tension from the songwriting tandem of
Bobby Sutliff and Tim Lee. Both work within, for lack of a better
term, a power-pop idiom (this has meant that critics have praised them.
Everyone else has said “Huh?”). Yet their styles have remained distinct.
While Sutliff’s songs tend to be more pop-oriented with occasional nods
toward New Wave, Lee’s display a muddier, more obviously rock ‘n’ roll
sensibility. Still, distinctions can be overdrawn. Both songwriters
are talented melodists capable of delivering sugary-sweet pop hooks filled
with self-deprecating wit.
Opening
the collection are two songs that the duo recorded with Mitch Easter in
2001, “Time Machine” by Sutliff and “Basket Case,” a cover of a Neilson
Hubbard tune. Both show that the Windbreakers have hardly lost a
beat since their ‘80s heyday. Featuring tasteful (and I might add,
non-jangly) guitar runs, the songs sound surprisingly fresh and not, as
one might fear, like those of a band merely trying to recover their youthful
swagger. From there, the disc follows the band’s path 
chronologically
from some of their first recordings at the Drive-In Studio to a handful
of songs from the late ‘80s. My own preference is for the later songs,
which display much more self-assured and mature songwriting. Others
may prefer the bouncy infectiousness of the earlier work, especially “You
Never Give Up,” Lee’s funny send-up of a guy who won’t come to grips with
the fact that the girl of his dreams likes girls as much as he does.
The selections from 1984 manage to remain buoyant pop songs while adopting
a more dark and brooding sound, particularly Lee’s “Changeless” and Sutliff’s
New Wave-flavored “New Red Shoes.” Somewhat less successful are the
tracks from the Run album. Although Lee’s punky title track works
and Sutliff’s “Visa Cards and Antique Mirrors” shows a healthy appropriation
of R.E.M.’s sound, the other songs fall flat, a case of novel production
techniques overwhelming the tunes they ostensibly are supporting.
The
Windbreakers would rebound, as Time Machine documents. Sutliff’s
“On the Wire” and Lee’s “Do Not Be Afraid,” both recorded in ‘88, are absolutely
gorgeous songs. Keyboards soften the band’s sound without removing
their bite. Sutliff makes the line“for all I care, you can go straight
to hell” a sweet singalong. The songs act as glorious reminders of
a time when southern “college rock” was one of the few sub-genres in American
music in which one could find the combination of intelligent, unpretentious
lyrics and pop melodies. It’s a shame few were paying attention then.
It would be a bigger shame if the Windbreakers persist as mere musical
footnotes. They deserve better.
