Before the turn of the millennium, emo was a term best used to describe an ambiguous, post-hardcore punk sound that had been evolving in the American underground music scene for about 15 years. Perhaps “best used” isn’t the right term as much as the term was saddled upon this sound: Just as many musicians tagged with the name today, it had been a point of annoying contention since it was first uttered in the community centers and tiny, all ages clubs in D.C. where the first “emocore” bands performed. Unlike the close-minded term the sound was often described as, these teens fused the cathartic dynamics of hardcore with a confrontational pop-twist and blended it all with introspective lyrics that had that was ambiguous as the genre within which these bands found themselves.

Flash forward to the beginning of the 21^st Century, and emo hit an odd nexus between the past, present and future just as it approached its tipping point. 2001 was the year that bands from emo’s first, second and third waves all convened, a year before the “genre” hit its tipping point in mainstream popularity. Fugazi – the band formed by members of two of emocore’s progenitors and the group that influenced nearly every second wave emo act, be it Drive Like Jehu or Sunny Day Real Estate – released their final album, The Argument. A map of the band’s evolving sound, The Argument was perhaps the group’s greatest album and an excellent farewell as the quartet called an indefinite hiatus in 2002.

All the while, many second wave emo bands began to end their respective musical runs in the early part of the decade, and many did so in challenging fashions. Although emo would transform into something of a tangible genre for millions, an almost shallow form of pop-punk in the guise of some bands, many of the second wave groups would exit not with a bang, but with a sound that left many emo apologists scratching their heads. There was Sunny Day Real Estate’s prog-heavy 2000 effort, The Rising Tide, an album that perplexed many longtime fans and left the chaos of their earlier albums on the studio floor. The Promise Ring dropped Wood/Water in 2002, a record that eschewed the group’s potent poppy-punk sound for a retrained, oft-acoustic sound driven completely on harmony. The Get Up Kids followed a similar route with their 2004 album, The Guilt Show.

While many of the titans of emo’s second wave bowed out in seemingly unfashionable ways, one of the period’s second fiddles would push emo onto the charts and into confused adolescent hearts. In the ‘90s, Jimmy Eat World was hardly an emo headliner. But, after being dropped by Capitol Records for failing to produce a big hit single or record, the group quietly recorded what would become the album that helped make emo a sought-after commodity.

Originally titled Bleed American when it was released in 2001, the band changed the name of their third album to Jimmy Eat World following September 11^th. And the album became a smashing sensation, a venerable hit parade and moneymaker at a time when industry types first began to fear illegal downloading. Perhaps Jimmy Eat World’s late career success can be boiled down to timing. In 2001 and 2002, Americans were looking for a certain kind of somber and comforting sound, but one that was ultimately positive following the national tragedy. When there was nowhere to turn in the world of shallow boy-band pop, a song called “The Middle” provided all the comfort one could ask for in a pop song:

It just takes some time/little girl you’re in the middle of the ride/everything, everything will be just fine/everything, everything will be alright

Throw in one heck of a pop hook and mix it in with that undeniable chorus and some positive, comforting lyrics and Jimmy Eat World came away with one of the strongest singles of the decade. Considering “The Middle” helped usher emo into the mainstream, it’s odd to think of how “emo” has become almost synonymous with “depressed.”

While Jimmy Eat World survived emo’s second wave for 21^st Century chart glory, emo’s third wave was well in full swing. Often described in Christ-like fashion amongst his most-rabid fans and critics, Chris Carrabba was stirring things up in the world of emo. Cathartic and punk inspired, Carrabba’s most affecting moments came in the form of his solo, acoustic-guitar driven ditties under the name Dashboard Confessional. Carrabba became something of a fixture in the mainstream music press, and his role as poster boy for the genre seemed solidified.

Though Carrabba plays the same heart wrenching tunes to a smaller group of cult fans today, his meteoric rise in the mainstream and substantially-longer career as an afterthought in the press have transformed Carrabba into a different kind of poster boy for emo. If emo had any solid definition following the aughts, it’s been lost in the translation of pop culture this past decade. Carrabba was the image of emo at the first half of the decade, but thanks to pop culture’s ever-shrinking attention span, emo’s transformed into something completely different at the end of 2009. Carrabba represents the odd staying power and ambiguity of the genre at a time when everyone seems to have a definition of “emo” down pat. Whereas earlier in the decade, emo was synonymous with well-adjusted, upper-middle class teenagers who wore Abercrombie & Fitch and sought to force all their existential quandaries on failed relationships and romantic longing, emo has somehow become associated with depressed, potentially-suicidal tweens who drape their bodies in all things black and could potentially be members of a cult, maybe.

Or has it? For every person that thinks they know what emo means, there are about several hundreds of people ready to disagree. For that, we’ve got the middle aughts to be thankful for. At a time when “emo” was being used to describe any up and coming independent band by the most well-meaning of music critics, the linear “genre” of emo saw a number of inventive albums and bands. Say Anything’s …is a Real Boy. Pedro The Lion’s Achilles’ Heel. Thursday’s War All The Time. Coheed & Cambria’s In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3. The Format’s Dog Problems. Even the “backpacker rap” of Rhymesayers artists like Atmosphere and P.O.S., or Rhode Island spoken-word rapper Sage Francis, followed some of the same post-hardcore dynamics of their emo peers to produce a solid number of albums often roped into the “emo” bubble and augmented the definition of the term.

While emo (and screamo) was getting the full court press style coverage in everything from The New York Times to Rolling Stone, something was awry. It was something that only Jessica Hopper was able to verbalize in a 2003 Punk Planet article titled “Emo: Where The Girls Aren’t.”

And then something broke—And it wasn’t Bob Nanna’s or Mr. Dashboard’s sensitive hearts. Records by a legion of done-wrong boys lined the record store shelves. Every record was a concept album about a breakup, damning the girl on the other side. Emo’s contentious monologue—it’s balled fist Peter Pan mash-note dilemmas—it’s album length letters from pussy-jail—it’s cathedral building in ode to man-pain and Robert-Bly-isms—it’s woman-induced misery has gone from being descriptive to being prescriptive. Emo was just another forum where women were locked in a stasis of outside observation, observing ourselves through the eyes of others. The prevalence of these bands, the omni-presence of emo’s sweeping sound and it’s growing stronghold in the media and on the Billboard chart codified emo as A SOUND, where previously there had been diversity.

And though some artists pushed the boundaries of where a term like “emo,” could go, others shoved it into a misogynistic, uncreative box. For all their cathartic bleedings, bands like The Used produced “hits” rank with the negative sound Hopper described so well. This, quite unfortunately, became the face that emo has worn throughout the decade, and is part of the reason the genre’s thought to be so worn out.

And the backlash came, though much of it not nearly as intelligent or even knowledgeable as Hopper’s critique. Warped Tour, the preeminent punk summer tour, became ground zero for anti-emo sentiments in the punk community. Elsewhere, the dynamic and image of emo shifted under the guise of two new scene bearers: My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy. Though Fall Out Boy achieved a cross-pop-cultural popularity unsurpassed by most bands, My Chem grew the kind of “cult” fan base that attracted the kind of negative publicity for emo that couldn’t be made up.

Suddenly, more than before, emo transformed from something of a musical term, to a catchall term for an odd subculture, with little to no roots in the “genre.” It became a type of fashion, inspired by My Chem’s obsession with gothic Tim Burton wear. It became a “state of mind” which parents were told to fear for their kids’ safety. It became hated, like nothing before. Be it the anti-emo beatings in Mexico, the threats of banning emo in Russia, or the simple-minded misunderstandings of local news reporters across the U.S. warning parents of the “dangerous new trend,” emo became huge, and not in the good way.

Although all would seem lost for emo at the end of the decade, it’s reached a curious nexus not unlike the one at the beginning of the decade. Though all signs would seem to point to its “death,” emo has continued to evolve, perhaps in some cases, mutate. Emo is still a misunderstood and maligned “culture” in some circles. And yes, many of the negative aspects of its popular form have continued to thrive in the guise of fifth wave emo-inspired bands operating under the scrunk and crunkcore sounds.

But, perhaps there is a light at the end of the decade. The reunion fever that has caught the indie world by storm churned out headlines that screamed “Sunny Day Real Estate” and “Get Up Kids” across the country. Though nostalgia is so often a dangerous poison in pop culture, every Jawbox reunion performance on TV allows people to refocus their perceptions of emo, and even where it can go.

More over, with band like Brand New challenging the very sonic nature of what emo has become and crushing the Billboard 200 at the same time, it can spell a new crossroads for emo. And all he while, the “indie” scene has been a source of newfound evolutions for emo. Groups like Maritime, The Appleseed Cast and Owen have quietly been creating some of the best music to be paired with the term “emo” this decade. Over the past few years, there’s even been something of an “emo Renaissance” in the underground punk scene, with tiny, DIY bands with names like Algernon Cadwallader, Empire! Empire! (I Was A Lonely Estate) and Monument producing songs steeped in emo’s second wave.

Though emo would seem to be a lost cause at the end of what has been a very long decade in the genre’s existence, if anything, it’s merely proven the definitive point that’s made emo such a longstanding presence in music: It’s all about perspective.

Jimmy Eat World – “The Middle”:

[youtubevid id="tVP0b8qvZg8"]

Image by Getty Images via Daylife

It’s true… Pete Wentz is a genius. Or someone at Fall Out Boy camp has got it going on in their noggin.

A smattering of break-up rumors cropped up online, fresh on the heels of the Tuesday release of the band’s greatest hits album Believers Never Die. Take the NME tweet from just yesterday:

Fall Out Boy have split up, apparently.

And all it takes is less than 140 characters to set off a publicity marathon. And when sites like Contactmusic reconfigure quotes that have Pete Wentz blaming himself for the “demise” of Fall Out Boy, you know some kids are going to run to their local record big box store to pick up ten copies of the poorly-reviewed greatest hits album in remembrance of the band. (As a general aside, many of the reviews have said the album’s biggest fault is that it’s just a collection of previously record singles – which, last time I check, is what greatest hits albums are.)

Now, all of that hubub was basic hearsay. The band’s been fairly up front about going “on hiatus”/taking a break for a little while, but someone somewhere must have caused the commotion over the band the past couple of days. Truth be told, it probably wasn’t Pete Wentz, but there’s no doubt his Kerrang! interview sent rumor-mill-happy bloggers through the roof.

Still, this isn’t to distract from the fact that Wentz and co. are fairly smart players in the music game. When they just about seemed to be fading from the limelight, Wentz announced the death of the emo haircut onstage and practically shoved the band back into the spotlight clear as day. Frankly, this was a pretty smart move, not only considering their greatest hits album was months away from being released, but the new Twilight movie to boot.

Why are these two things related? When was the last time you heard someone incorrectly identify the Twilight series, characters and fans as “emo” just because of the amount of mascara that Edward character wears, or the fans’ penchant for black clothing? And exactly who helped re-focus emo fashion on, say, lopsided haircuts and black clothing? Pete Wentz. Though Wentz has little control over the My Chemical Romance guys, who cake their faces in “guyliner” and really are the band that marginalized emo from an ambiguous aesthetic into a Tim Burton-obsessed, neo-goth cliché, Wentz’s actions helped alleviate the fashion pressures on emo and helped people question the definition of the genre when some of its bigger second-wave acts (Sunny Day Real Estate and The Get Up Kids) were in the middle of reunion tours.

Beyond all the hype over hair and hiatuses, Wentz and co. knew what they were doing every step of the way. They took their headlining status with a sense of wonder most bands might scoff at. How many other Billboard bands would make their own version of the Oregon Trail or try to perform in Antarctica? They took advantage of a position few musicians or bands get in life, and ran with it.

And they could do that because of their own skills. Hell, the band roped Jay-Z, Babyface, Lil’ Wayne and Elvis Costello in for their most recent albums. Few other acts would even have the gall to do that. But, above all these things, Fall Out Boy’s genius might just be in the fact that they were able to make the double kick drum appealing to more 13-year-old girls than any metal act ever could. And that, my friends, is ingenious.

When Pete Wentz gets his hair cut (or shaven?), the crying apparently stops:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FM6-BE5XZIQ]

Take to the messageboards, Facebook feeds, and Twitter tweets, you FOB fanatics out there!

Wentz has proven to be something of an intelligent individual in music: his lyrics have the kind of verbiage that the College Board kills for, he’s proven himself a mogul in his own little music realm, and he’s probably a lot more articulate and well read in punk than people give him credit for. (His appearance as a player in a pivotal band included in Brian Peterson’s Burning Fight, all on 90s hardcore bands, is probably stunning for many who are not up on their hardcore punk reading.) With the emo-publicity train currently has its eyes focused on Brand New, Wentz picked the perfect opportunity to get rid of a fashionable doo that’s become the target of so much scorn. With the focus no longer just on his band, he can be free to play whatever he wants and wear whatever he wants. Hopefully, this will get some kids to rethink the emo-as-purely-a-fashion-statement, because I for one cannot see Wentz changing his tunes just cause his head has less hair.

LOS ANGELES — Singer Patrick Stump of Fall Out Boy has been arrested on a two-year-old warrant for driving without a valid license.

Sheriff’s spokesman Steve Whitmore says the 25-year-old was arrested late Tuesday during a traffic stop by Los Angeles police. He was booked on an outstanding warrant for driving without a license and released early Wednesday after posting $15,000 bail.

…and all for an invalid license? I’m guessing (and this is by no means factual) that his license was probably expired for quite a bit of time. I honestly can’t see what other way his license could potentially be invalid… Chances are it’s not a fake (what would a 25 year old do with a fake?)

Police profile image of Patrick Stump via AP/WP

All and all, it’s actually, quite oddly, the best fit for a musician of Stump’s stature/image to get tossed in the slammer for a brief period of time. By all means, Fall Out Boy are fairly pop-and-teeny-bop friendly (their music tends to generate such a fan base at the very least, though truth be told their lyrics have some semblance of multiple layers), this kind of grand misdemeanor and the joint bail are on the same level as his stature in the pop realm.

Basically, not terribly offensive, but with the same style of semi-rebelliousness (though the actual crime probably more through thoughtlessness/forgetfulness).

And everyone thought Chris Brown was the clean-and-shiny pop idol out there.

I’m just waiting for some mega-celebrity to have a five-state manhunt with a warrant to arrest for jaywalking that would overtake national news and put everything into perspective…

[soundcloud url="http://soundcloud.com/tommiesunshine/fall-out-boy-of-all-the-gin-joints-in-all-the-world-tommie-sunshines-brooklyn-fire-retouch" params="show_comments=true&auto_play=false&color=1759e0"]

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mh0VX74alwk]

iBand… one of those many “phenomena” that might not be called such if it weren’t for the Internet. And these folks aren’t the only ones in on the iPod/Phone-as-an-instrument idea. The number of videos of people either screwing around with a Metallica solo or a hacker using their igadget as a drum sampler to replay “Drop It Like It’s Hot.” What a meme. Here are a handful for your enjoyment:

Metallica – “Nothing Else Matters”:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=51cWRrZdkwk]

Black Sabbath – “Paranoid”:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pKaLfhvs8xk&feature=related]

The Police – “Message In A Bottle”:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VGVOUtSzpcY&feature=related]

AC/DC – “Highway to Hell”:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1jafZfGqpS8&feature=related]

Snoop Dog – “Drop It Like It’s Hot”:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y5M-La0g7wE&feature=related]

Benny Benassi – “Satisfaction”:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81vPX9gAfjk&feature=related]

Kanye West – “Stronger”:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OiTzX6khAqs&feature=related]

Weezer – “Say It Ain’t So”:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-WUpWcMrT4&feature=related]

Fall Out Boy – “Beat It”:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=90w8OcOH9ws]

Newly-announced Fall Out Boy tour-mate 50 Cent isn’t the only one on the Believers Never Die Part Deux tour with a brand-spanking new video game. Fall Out Boy Trail is an internet update of the good ole’ computer game favorite, Oregon Trail. The basics are still there; there’s oxen, you have to ford rivers, hunt for food (in this case, the munchies are unfortunately tagged as “McNuggets”), and members of the band gain and lose levels of “happiness” (aka life) through the usual mess of typhoid and tapeworms (and with an update of gaining life through pulling pranks and listening to music).

Fall Out Boy Trail is a pretty entertaining online game, and one that can suck you in quick. With the understanding that the internet is a black hole for short attention spans, the folks behind FOBT have packed the game with a mix of other games. Rather than the straightforward fording the trail, you traverse the tour circuit as Fall Out Boy. There are three levels of play, the hardest being “hardcore.”

At each tour stop, you play a gig through a lo-fi version of Guitar Hero/Adium. The songs are all the big Fall Out Boy hits, and the basic melodies are played through a tinny-sounding keyboard with the 1-5 buttons on the computer keyboard. The play access is a little awkward, as the number keys are quite close together, but it gets the job done and is entertaining in small bursts.

After completing each song, the band “parties” with different stereotypical individuals. This might be the one spot of the game that’s woefully over-the-top in its compliance with mainstream images and concepts of how rock bands interact in a society. Still, bonuses are abound, and if this passes for humor in some circles, so be it.

Other stops on the trail offer more 8-bit versions of popular games. You can shoot zombies while fording a river:

You can fight a monster that looks quite a bit like Krang from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles:

You can even hang out with Obama in DC:

All and all, Fall Out Boy Trail is a pretty entertaining internet diversion. Sure, the humor may be a little infantile:

And the emo-and-other-subculture stereotypes may play into society’s humorless hands (though who would play this game without taking these jokes with a grain of sand). But, it’s all in good fun… until some member of FOB dies:

… in the game, that is.

33 1/3 Book Proposal:

The Promise Ring’s Nothing Feels Good

Guilty pleasures tend to rear their heads in an interview with music’s next big thing. So when a VBS TV correspondent was chatting it up with No Age, the uber-hip and critically acclaimed experimental punk duo from L.A., singer/drummer Dean Spunt interrupted guitarist Randy Randall’s ruminations on MC Hammer with a shocking revelation:

“I used to like The Promise Ring.”
Beat.
“Yeah, so did I,” replied the stylish interviewer.
The three guys proceeded to awkwardly chuckle and talk over each other until the interviewer brought up his stunning thought:
“Is it really at the point where MC Hammer is less embarrassing than The Promise Ring?”

Great question. And not unlike one I ask myself just about every time I crank up my stereo while playing 30 Degrees Everywhere or Wood/Water. What’s so embarrassing about The Promise Ring? It could be the band’s association with emo, the now-repugnant term for a post-hardcore genre that’s all but taken over the Billboard charts. It was the release of 1997′s Nothing Feels Good that the four “averages Joes” that made up The Promise Ring were presented with the title of poster boys of a genre once thought to be six feet under. The rest of the trials and tribulations of emo remain embedded in our international conscience thanks to numerous pop-punk acts influenced by The Promise Ring. Say what you will about your Fall Out Boys, My Chemical Romances, Dashboard Confessionals, Cute Is What We Aim Fors, Thrices, Taking Back Sundays, Panic! at the Discos, Saves the Days, Coheed & Cambrias, Alexisonfires, New Found Glorys, and Underoaths; when push comes to shove, most of these bands don’t come close to the potent passion, intelligence, and vibrancy of The Promise Ring and their sophomore effort, Nothing Feels Good.

Embarrassment aside, Spunt should have nothing to be ashamed of for name-dropping The Promise Ring as a band that’s clearly influenced the critically-lauded musician. The Promise Ring’s back catalog is filled with nugget and gems of post-hardcore-meets-pop bliss, and much like when No Age’s current work combining elements of pop with hardcore, the results are fantastic. Nothing Feels Good is The Promise Ring’s best and most succinct work, an anthemic, passionate burst of homegrown pop-punk, filtered through tales of existential crises, cross-country road trips, and references to modern Americana. The hooks are sharp, the lyrics poignant, and the performance still as unbelievably urgent as the day the original tapes were mastered over a decade ago.

Part of what’s so phenomenal about The Promise Ring’s Nothing Feels Good is the impact the album had when it hit record stores in the fall of 1997. Neatly-packaged emo-pop amalgams are a dime a dozen these days, but there was nothing “neat” about Nothing Feels Good when it was released. Although the album’s music has the sugary-sweet taste of bubblegum pop that numerous artists today no doubt want to tap into, the band’s sound subverts the pretenses of slick pop on Nothing Feels Good with quick bursts of hardcore-influenced instrumentation that seem intent on spilling out of each track marking and into the life of the listener. To mis-quote The Promise Ring, it displays a sense that the band had of having no defined sense or absolute understanding of the world around them, but simply enjoying the view. Life’s peculiarities, ambiguities, and “big questions” aren’t shunned, but brought to the surface with keen observation. In frontman Davey von Bohlen’s hands and sweetly contorted lisp – a performance factor that only makes the music on Nothing Feels Good sound an umpteenth more sincere – The Promise Ring made an album of daring proportions and a musical document to the banalities, every day norms, and even celebrations of human existence not heard since Nirvana’s Nevermind.

Nothing Feels Good cover

Part of the story behind Nothing Feels Good is known, but little of it has a concentrated focus on the actual album or the band behind it. Beyond the musical content, Nothing Feels Good was a smashing success. For Jade Tree – The Promise Ring’s label – it meant financial stability, as the album surpassed their modest predictions and allowed the company to flourish, something of a miracle in the years following the alternative music buyout which had left many independent record labels for dead. For the national emo scene – a ragtag, ambiguous assemblage of independent artists around the U.S. – it legitimized their work in the face of the post-grunge milieu that ruled the radio waves and crippled mainstream creativity. For the members of The Promise Ring, it meant video premiers on MTV, critical acclamation, a position as one of the most creative bands operating in America’s underground music scene, and, much later, a place in cult-music lore for having inspired countless musicians to take emo (or whatever genre they called their own) in new and distinctly personal directions.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=srU0xhkfIFw]

Although we’re still feeling the impact of Nothing Feels Good today, the known-narrative of the album’s creation is bare. What inspired the dozen songs on the album, and what transpired in their evolution from muddled creative concept into full-blown pop gold? What about the practices that hammered out the hooks, high-hats, and lo-fi hits in The Promise Ring’s oeuvre? What about the guys behind the instruments, their day-to-day existences and thoughts that no doubt burrowed their way into the band’s sophomore album? What were the moments before, during, and after 1997 that made Nothing Feels Good stand out from a mass of other bands and recordings that make up emo’s so-called second wave? What about each member’s upbringing, their lives in the Milwaukee area, relationships with friends, family, and significant-others? What made four young men band together to form The Promise Ring and create such a phenomenal release as heard in Nothing Feels Good?

These are the pivotal questions I’m seeking to answer with my book on The Promise Ring’s Nothing Feels Good for Continuum’s 33 1/3 book series. Here is an album and a band who’s impact on music today in innumerable. Part of the unknown quality of The Promise Ring’s importance is due to the fact that these deep-seated questions have never been asked – or rather, published – on such a large-scale forum. Considering the fans that the band amassed since forming in 1995, a list that no doubt has been growing with every article, band, or cultural critic name-checking the quartet as one of indie rock’s great cult bands, The Promise Ring are more than due for their proper place in the rock narrative limelight. And the 33 1/3 series is the place I would like to bring the tale of The Promise Ring’s best album.

For this project, I plan on writing the kind of book that exemplifies the credence imbued in Nothing Feels Good. My model for this manuscript isn’t confined to the band-nostalgically-reminiscing-on-a-piece-of-the-past-type writing you may see in a lot of oral histories or straightforward music books out there. Certainly my work will represent the mold that previous 33 1/3 books have upheld, but I’m also inspired by the writing styles of the great new journalists and literary non-fiction pieces. In essence, I’m looking to produce a book that lives, breathes, eats, speaks, and plays music the way that the members of The Promise Ring did when they made Nothing Feels Good. I want to make someone who’s never heard the album feel as though they’ve been following the band since Day One, that they’re back in 1997 and sprinting to the record store in order to merely touch an album by a band that has touched them. Essentially, I want to write a book about The Promise Ring in the same way the band created their music.

My main informants for this project will be the members of The Promise Ring; as I want to get into their heads and extract information about their environment, attitudes, and memories, they will be my go-to source for the book. I’ve been in touch with Promise Ring singer/guitarist Davey von Bohlen for well over a year, having recruited his current band (Maritime) for a concert and Davey himself for a previous writing project. I have been corresponding with von Bohlen about this proposal for well over a month, and he has given this project his supportive and enthusiastic seal of approval, and has gotten me in touch with the other members of The Promise Ring. At the moment that I’ve submitted this proposal, I’ve been in touch with two other Promise Ring members, Jason Gnewikow (guitar) and Dan Didier (drums), and both are quite enthusiastic about the project. I plan on having extensive interviews with these three members, as well as the two bass players who played in The Promise Ring during their Nothing Feels Good era, Scott Schoenbeck and Scott Beschta.

Although interviews with the members of The Promise Ring will constitute a large portion of my research, I plan on culling information from as many sources as possible in order to make the narrative more vibrant and colorful. I plan on soliciting interviews with not only those closely associated to the band, but also their detractors and adoring fans. Alongside a list that includes friends and family, I plan on speaking to Tim Owen and Darren Walters (Jade Tree owners), J. Robbins (Nothing Feels Good producer), Stuart Sikes (Nothing Feels Good engineer), Jessica Hopper (former publicist), Tim Edwards (former booking agent), Josh Modell (creator of Milk Magazine and close friend), along with musicians who’ve worked with, influenced, or been influenced by The Promise Ring, including Tim and Mike Kinsella (Cap’n Jazz), Jim Adkins (Jimmy Eat World), Bob Nanna (Braid), Jeremy Enigk (Sunny Day Real Estate), Matthew Pryor (The Get Up Kids), Eric Richter (Christie Front Drive), Eric Axelson (The Dismemberment Plan/Maritime), Chris Carrabba (Dashboard Confessional), Pete Wentz (Fall Out Boy), Chris Simpson (Mineral), Chris Conley (Saves the Day), Mark Kozelek (Red House Painters/Sun Kil Moon), Ian MacKaye (Minor Threat/Fugazi), and countless others for their involvement in this project. Although not everyone listed is guaranteed to be involved, with my personal connections to some of the people previously listed and with the help from the former Promise Ring members, I will have an enormous number of people contributing to the book’s dialog.

Interviews aside, I plan on digging through swaths of information to aide in the creation of the book. Included will be the usual sources of information; articles on the band, reviews of their albums, zines, blogs, and any other published work that would enhance the narrative. But, I plan to go beyond those musings as well. I will approach the band members to see if I could use personal paraphernalia to help me spin a more personal yarn. This would include anything from old photographs, letters, journal entries, lyric sheets, music sheets, and even doodles scratched into scraps of paper they’ve kept through the years. I will also approach the narrative from the direction of an informed anthropologist by researching the socio-economic background of The Promise Ring’s hometown of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Through census information, background information on area high school and college education systems, and the resources for youth in Wisconsin that was available at the same time Nothing Feels Good was in the making, I hope to gain a better sense of The Promise Ring’s background. I’ll also dig up information on American society’s views of Wisconsin and the Mid West and how that was reflected in the actions of those who lived there. It may seem onerous, but the brief scene in Wayne’s World that takes place in Milwaukee speaks volumes about the international perception of the place where The Promise Ring was formed. Throughout all of this, I hope to get a sense of why The Promise Ring did what they did, but from an entirely different perspective than the usual interview could warrant.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bXEGGOjAe7I&feature=related]

What I hope to accomplish after 15 months of research and writing is a work that can live up to how I felt after first popping Nothing Feels Good on the stereo, and something that will be as powerful as each subsequent listen to that album. My work may lack the aural quality of the album, but I hope it will be able to bring an entirely new sense of being to Nothing Feels Good, and one that will only boost the listening experience of longtime Promise Ring enthusiasts and bring some new fans to the album as well.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I7o37LR-5mU]

That’s not enough? Well, most of the cast dresses in emo-mall friendly wardrobes and fawn over the band in the previous scene. But, if you don’t believe it, check out the movie… wonder what that means about emo’s acceptance in the south (considering the film travels from Kentucky down to Tennessee).

*In more Obama = emo “news,” Pete Wentz wrote a little ditty blog entry for the Huffington Post on Obama’s Inauguration and Vice Magazine has declared the event to be the death of emo (though not entirely convincinly, I might add).

*My first post for Bostonist is up and running, this one introducing folks to Daniel Harris. More music coverage for that site to come!

What could have been - fake cover for a famously rejected proposal

The 33 1/3 blog released the final list of the nearly 600 potential books on a wide variety of albums that Continuum received after the call for open proposals a little while ago.

Needless to say, it’s quite a list. It’s interesting to see what albums people are passionate enough about to fill an entire book, and think about numerous individuals (who most likely don’t know one another) who came together at the same entry period and wrote a proposal about the same record (Liz Phair’s Exile in Guyville and Slint’s Spiderland got a lot of props).

Perhaps what’s great to see is the number of emo albums that have been proposed. In general, it’s a generous heaping of bands in the large arc of emo’s narrative. There’s Fugazi (who received numerous proposals from their discography), Lungfish, Jawbreaker, Jimmy Eat World, Say Anything, and (of course) Fall Out Boy.

Now, I must admit, I submitted a proposal too. Mine is for The Promise Ring’s 1997 album, Nothing Feels Good.

Nothing Feels Good Album Cover

From the looks of all the proposals, it sure must be tough to choose 20 or so out of hundreds of great ideas. But, I’ve got my fingers crossed for my idea. And it’s not just because I am the one who wrote and worked on the proposal. Rather, I feel it’s record that needs to be discussed, and one that hasn’t had the proper opportunity to be carefully observed and thoughtfully written about in the thorough manner that every 33 1/3 book requires. Nothing Feels Good is still as astounding today as the day it was released (nearly) twelve years ago, and its impact on popular music today is equaled by a handful of other albums. Hell, even the folks at Pitchfork who frequently turn their nose down on emo acts and albums loved The Promise Ring’s sophomore disc. If that doesn’t show some middle ground between mainstream popular music listening (to which TPR has had undeniable influence over and certainly had an appeal towards, despite the indie circuit with which they traveled in) and elitist-leaning tastemaking, I don’t know what does.

Hopefully, the editors of the series will think so as well. And one of the first handful of comments sure gave me some hope:

Anonymous said…

I thought pitching a book on the Hold Steady was a long shot, but the fact that there were two other proposals for Separation Sunday puts some of my fears to rest…

I appreciate seeing some of my high school staples getting pitched: 24 hour revenge, clarity, nothing feels good… I can, indeed, still feel the butterflies…

tw

2:21 PM

Good luck to everyone who worked hard to get those proposals in on time, and same to the Continuum folks who no doubt will have a lot of hard thinking to do!