Man, who doesn't love the popular music of today's youth? I mean, bands
today really know how to reach out and touch you. It's like, before emo, I
had no way to realize how tragic my problems with my parents really
are. I didn't have a way to truly express how I feel about that one girl, the
one that said she loved me but didn't really and told all of my friends
and stabbed me in the back and made me cry. Before emo, I might just call
myself sad.
Sad. Such a flat word, so dry. No resonance, no grasp of the immensity of
my pain. Thank god for SAD WITH POWER CHORDS! My heart isn't broken, my heart
is a Black Pit of Despair, and it's eating me from the inside out. Life isn't
kind of melancholy, it's hopeless and futile, gray and apocalyptic.
There's barely anything to keep me going.
Thank god for Avril Levigne. Thank god for Dashboard Confessional. Thank
god for Army of Freshmen. They're with me in this. They understand, as these
Actual Lyrics from an Actual Emo Band attest:
I serenade her cell phone but I never hit send.
I'd ask for
some advice, but I don't have any friends.
I am the one on IM with
the 37 names.
Tonight its Captain Elvis. Lately he's been on his
game.
It's like they're psychic. They don't sing about perfect love, or thug
life, or hell's black warriors; they're too real for that. They realize that
rejection resonates with the masses in a way unmatched by any other emotion;
indeed, failure is a truly universal message.
The problem, of course, is that at this point Emo music (for lack of a
better term) sucks. Filled with uninspired beats, formulaic chord
progressions, and whiny singing, it pains the ears, rather than the soul, of
any musical listener. Furthermore, the strains of a teenager's weeping guitar
unrepairably damage the street cred of anyone blasting it from their car
window.
Even these formidable obstacles, however, will not stem the Emo tide. A
few brave artists will bring the message of frustration to the music of the
masses, and pave the way to an angsty revolution. The first of these artists
is of course my friend MC J
Tragic, the king of thugmo:
So now, I be sobbin'
Tears fallin' hard
'cuz I'm all out-of-shape
Got a belly of lard
no understandin' from my Ma,
No
help from my Fatha,
My tears be creatin' record levels of wata'
Another biblical flood, this time Noah be sinkin'
From the tears caused by all my introspective thinkin'
An
ocean of sadness once tha cryin' start
A bleak watery wasteland
JUST LIKE MY HEART!
Revolutionary, no doubt: for every Big Poppa out there, there are
thousands of Lil' Saggypants trying, unsuccessfully, to make it in the world.
They don't need rappers to talk about living the good life-how do you think
that makes them feel? No, they want someone to tell them how much more lame
life could be.
Thugmo is just the beginning, though. Our favorite European DJ's will
bring us Techmo, the ultimate fusion of repetitive synthesizers and aimless
wallowing. You'll dance so hard you'll cry! Flying through distant galaxies
to the utopia of rhythm and love? More like scanning the Myspace profiles of
distant strangers, trying to figure out how much you care whether the next
one's a rapist like the last three.
Or maybe we'll see Emo seep into the metal scene, shifting its focus from
the horsemen of the apocalypse to the looming final in math class.
RRRRRAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR!!!!
The bleeding flesh is dripping down
my chest
and by flesh I mean bologna from a sandwich
RRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRR!!!!!!
I'll rip my eyes out before I take
this test
Or maybe not as that'd hurt like a bitch
Or something. Bottom line: I want to swim in the amplified misery of
Emetalo, thinking about head-banging but not having the energy to do it. I
want to bump the latest single from J-Tragic, and be happy there's someone
sadder than me. I want to go to a Techmo rave, and sit in the corner with two
burned-out glowsticks. I want to embrace the Emo revolution half-heartedly,
then go home and feel awkward.
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