I’ve got Daitro’s new LP Y constantly humming through my headphones recently. Juxtapose the mid-tempo, atmospheric chaos of five French dudes with Dashboard Confessional’s whiny pop and try to understand how the two could possibly be defined by the same genre term: emo. Maybe a small history lesson is in order.
Let’s begin with the revolution itself—the Revolution Summer, that is. The summer of ’85 saw the need for change in Washington, D.C.’s hardcore punk scene as pivotal bands like Minor Threat were losing steam or had already broken up. This revolution’s aim was to distance hardcore from the violence and intolerance that had become synonymous with the music itself. The political and societal grievances far too often encouraged disagreement and fighting, even within the scene. The revolution sought to take a more mid-tempo approach to punk, and, when combined with more emotional and introspective lyricism, outward violence was exchanged for a more inclusive community focused around artistic integrity.
Georgetown alumus Guy Picciotto started the band Rites of Spring, and Ian MacKaye started Embrace. With the help of a few other noteworthy bands, the summer of ’85 took hardcore punk down a completely new path. They were labeled something like “emotional hardcore.” The songs became a lot less one-dimensional than typical D.C. hardcore—lyricism emphasized the individual rather than an individual movement.
Does it make sense that two future guitarists of Fugazi would have started a movement tied so closely with Hot Topic? It seems as if the meaning of the genre must have shifted at some point. Which is exactly what happened, when in the mid to late ‘90s bands like Jimmy Eat World, Dashboard Confessional, and Weezer got labeled as such for the over-the-top emotion in their music (to the chagrin of Sunny Day Real Estate). “Emotional Hardcore” turned into “emotional,” which turned into Bright Eyes.
That’s the redefined emo in a nutshell: anything with emotion. The term has been used so ambiguously now that it describes a broad and disparate group of different things. The guys with tight jeans and hair covering one eye are emo. But so is the lonely kid in high school with a sweater vest who listens to the ballads of teary-eyed singer-songwriters. Not to mention the bands that still thrive in the underground today, those true to the original movement.
What exactly do those bands sound like? Imagine the atmosphere of Explosions in the Sky build-ups, but, after crescendoing, a schizophrenic collapse into dissonance and chaotic shouting. It’s an odd mixture of controlled chaos and simple, but emotionally charged swelling. It isn’t a style that is incredibly accessible, or even marketable (much to the chagrin of Hot Topic).
The battle for the claim to emo is being fought between the marketable and the non-marketable. This is where the underground movement runs into a wall—they have much less power than platinum-selling bands like My Chemical Romance. Those bands have hundreds of thousands of fans to perpetuate the ignorance, and the abject amount of Revolution Summer emo fans get lost in the struggle. Maybe it’s just progression, but I’d rather just listen to “Again I Go Unnoticed,” again.
Give James some notice: e-mail him at jmcgrory@georgetownvoice.com.
