A love letter to noughties emo
I have a friend who carries himself as though he is the authority on all good music, old and new. A person that I had stopped talking to on the subject because I knew what I listened to would never earn his approval. Last time I saw him, I was baffled to find him sporting a Jimmy Eat World t-shirt. I mean, I loved this band ten years ago but I know when I first met him at the start of university there was no chance I would have mentioned this or any of the emo bands from my immediate history. My emo-self was to stay back in High Wycombe and my past where it belonged.
I broke my silence to demand an explanation for the t-shirt and from what he told me, there’s been somewhat of an ‘emo revival’ in recent years with newer bands emulating those that saturated my teenage years, and this had sent him back to explore vital emo bands of the past (I know for a fact he would have laughed at the mention of Jimmy Eat World ten years ago).
It set me thinking about my own relationship with the genre and I thought I’d have a little revival of my own. People think back to the nineties, eighties etc. as being their or the defining musical decade and there are a host of bands to draw upon to legitimise these claims. But I was too young for the battle for Britpop; my knowledge of Blur at this time started and ended with Song 2 on Fifa 98 on the Playstation. For me, it was noughties emo* and for better or worse, I cut my musical teeth on the likes of Taking Back Sunday, Brand New, Alexisonfire and homegrown bands like Funeral for a Friend and Hell is for Heroes.
*As someone who’s never been particularly good at genre-isation, I have used the term ‘emo’ broadly to capture what extends to include elements of post-hardcore, screamo, and pop-punk.
My revival companion has been a trusty iPod classic that has heroically survived and contains all music I have collected since I was 15. Listening to these bands again was like welcoming back a friend I thought had died and music that I hadn’t even thought about for ten years is now being listened to on rotation. Belting out the words to songs of teenage love and loss has not just been cathartic but bloody good fun. Though the lyrics tended towards the saccharine and occasionally downright embarrassing, sometimes I don’t want to have to ponder the meaning to a song, I want it packaged cheaply and without frills. And sure, I don’t music to be this way all the time, but now and again I certainly do — the musical equivalent of re-watching episodes of Friends.
When I was a teen and started getting into these bands, I hadn’t engaged in music in this way before — it was a living and breathing subculture. I had my most memorably intense experiences of live music in iconic, now-defunct venues such as the London Astoria and Earls Court, and the fact that I saw Fall Out Boy and New Found Glory here doesn’t detract from that. Quite often, we wouldn’t even have to make the pilgrimage to the big smoke to feel that rush and get our sweaty gig fix. Right in my hometown, The White Horse in High Wycombe showcased up and coming acts that shared the bill with mates’ bands; our own, albeit a bit rubbish, version of the scene on the other side of the pond.
I know that the noughties emo scene has been clouded by controversy, but for many it brought joy and a sense of belonging that can be damn hard to come by as a teenager. I truly think this music opened me up in a way that I wouldn’t be the same person I am today without it. As an adult with actual responsibilities and people that depend on me, the list of things that could sap me of my mental, physical and emotional energy is endless and I’m getting better at separating the things that truly matter from those that in the grand scheme of things do not. But as teens, our sphere of experience was so narrow that ultimately trivial things meant everything to us. Fretting over the girl we fancied, the unrequited love, or the imperfectly straight fringe, allowed for the exploration of feelings that is all part of emotional growth. The emo bands of the noughties soundtracked these moments for me and catalysed that growth. I saw men being expressive and showing vulnerability, and it gave license to boys and men to do the same. Emo was a dirty word at the time but being emotional certainly shouldn’t be and there’s a whole other toxic masculinity at play when men bottle up their struggles, put on a brave face and don’t talk about their feelings. I’m not suggesting that we hold these bands up as paragons of virtue or saviours of the modern man, and I know that it’s not sustainable to be in a constant state of hysteria, but sometimes feelings absolutely must come to the surface and be embraced. Whether or not I’m listening to this music, I’m proud to be emo.
