In honor of Valentine's Day, it would only be appropriate to talk about a musical style that Valentine's Day brings out the best in, and that, of course, is emo.
Sure, Valentine's Day is about flowers, chocolate hearts, the corporate exploitation of an overly sentimental holiday with an overriding focus on consumerism and maybe even love, but there's also the counter-cultural approach to Valentine's Day -- celebrated with the donning of black attire and the blasting of bitter songs about cheating ex-girlfriends and loveless, empty futures.
However, I'm not going to address emo music and its surrounding culture per se, although I won't go out of my way to avoid ridiculing it; rather, I want to discuss everyone's over-eagerness to classify music as emo.
Emo originated as a musical style that branched off of hardcore, a subgenre of punk that many find unbearable, or at least incomprehensible. That context is practically nonexistent when you actually hear an emo song; most people think "emo" is short-hand for emotional, end of story. Now, all that remains is a hollow stereotype: a whiny, adolescent pop version of Goths accessorized with black nail polish, jewelry from Hot Topic, skinny jeans and asymmetric hair cuts.
Now that emo has become not just a genre but also a pejorative adjective, the usage of the term has become more indiscriminate than ever and, in my opinion, annoyingly incorrect.
Listeners have divided the music spectrum in two -- emo and not emo -- calling a song emo if the lyrics express any hint of sadness or negative emotion. The problem with this strictly black-and-white definition is obvious.
Let's play a game, shall we? I'll give you a few lines of lyrics from two different songs, and you decide which one is the emo song.
Exhibit A: "Cut my wrists and black my eyes, so I can fall asleep tonight, or die because you kill me." Now, compare: "And as the summer's ending, the cool air will put your hard heart away. You were so condescending. And this is all that's left: Scraping paper to document. I've packed a change of clothes and it's time to move on."
Clearly, Hawthorne Heights's "Ohio Is for Lovers" (the first set of lyrics) beats Death Cab for Cutie's "Photobooth" with respect to levels of emo. Both songs deal with leaving love behind, but "Ohio Is for Lovers" unmistakably embodies the depressingly suicidal spirit that defines emo today, whereas "Photobooth" seems almost joyful by comparison. Unfortunately, many people label the beautifully poetic lyrics of Death Cab for Cutie as emo.
Let's try this game one more time.
"You got your finger on the pulse. You got your eyes everywhere. And it hurts all the time when you don't return my calls. And you haven't got the time to remember how it was." Versus this: "My sad, sorry, selfish cry out to the cutter. I'm cutting, trying to picture your black, broken heart. Love is not like anything, especially a f*cking knife."
"Like Eating Glass" by Bloc Party doesn't even compare to The Used's "I'm a Fake" (the second set of lyrics) in terms of which is more emo. The Used is a clear winner here, although cutting yourself because you're perpetually crying on the inside doesn't really make you a winner in life.
Pain, suffering, heartbreak and sorrow can be an integral part of artistic expression, but how you express an emotion is just as important as what emotion you're expressing. Just because a song conveys pain doesn't mean it should be classified as "emo" or grouped into the same category of music that automatically pairs heartbreak and self-mutilation. This emotional profiling of music must stop.
Songs that deal with broken hearts and melancholy can be beautiful and meaningful, and they shouldn't be dismissed as just another dejected soundtrack for angsty teens crying themselves to sleep. Next time, before you carelessly label a song as emo, listen closely and stereotype responsibly.
