by Amanda Davis

The year is 2004. You and your friends are sitting on the floor of your bedroom, passing around the insert for the CD you’re listening to—a Vagrant compilation featuring hits from their most popular bands. You’ve only heard of a couple of the artists, but if they’re signed to Vagrant, they must be good. You’ll go out and buy the Get Up Kids record and burn copies for your friends; another friend will do the same with the latest Alkaline Trio release, and another for Hey Mercedes, until you manage to listen to all the label’s artists. 

It is no new phenomenon that records labels are trend setters for what is popular in the music industry. Socially, they are viewed as ahead of the game—those with insider knowledge on what is good music (whatever that means). Financially, major labels have the ability to provide music to a wide audience, through the distribution of vinyl records and CDs. Yet, in order to maintain this status, labels must consistently search for the next profitable entity. The question is always what can be sold—swing was repurposed into a noun to be packaged and toted to the masses, much as techno and grunge would be. And of course, emo was no different. Over time, the scene would be warped, adapted, and commodified into something palatable to mainstream audiences. The public might never understand the unpolished vocals and screeching guitars of emo’s hardcore forefathers, but with enough tweaking, the industry would have every outcast teenager flocking to the mall to purchase Fall Out Boy T-shirts. 

The genre of emo—short for emotional hardcore—originally emerged in the 1980s as a subgenre driven by more sympathetic lyrics. Bands such as Rites of Spring and Embrace paved the way for a scene that would continue to evolve over time, always more of a sensibility than a particular sound. It was a counterculture that rebelled both against the mainstream as well as the typical punk sentiment of brash, jockish anger. As emo developed, especially into the ‘90s, bands grew adept at imbuing their pain into music that combined rough instrumentals with raw, sincere lyricism.  

It was during this time that the music industry latched onto alternative as the next scene to be bought, packaged, and resold to the masses. Nirvana was the face of grunge, and albums like Smash by the Offspring and Silverchair’s Frogstomp became surprise hits (Caress, 151). As Caress writes,  

“The alternative music scene—which had long contained countless stylistic genres of music and had been defined only by its lack of mainstream success and loose affiliation in independent record stores and on alternative radio—was being calculatedly transformed into a homogenous, stylistic genre…chosen specifically for its perceived marketability” (151-2). 

Naturally, as one subculture began to court the mainstream, the outcasts of the ‘90s turned to another to satisfy their need for musical authenticity. Taking cues from the likes of Jawbreaker and Sunny Day Real Estate, local scenes began to flourish in Florida, New Jersey, and Long Island. The gritty guitar riffs and patchy vocals were a sonic equivalent to the sticky floors of the basements and VFW halls the bands performed in. For a while, it was just out of reach—the emo bands of the ‘90s were relegated to independent and local labels such as Drive-Thru and Eyeball Records. But it was only a matter of time before grunge fell out of style and the industry began looking for the next big thing. 

This next big thing came in the form of JNCOs and eyeliner. During the late ‘90s and early 2000s, bands such as Dashboard Confessional, Saves the Day, and Thursday gained traction in the music scene thanks to their vulnerable lyrics and the raw devotion of their fanbases. Teens crowded into cafeterias and screamed along to Chris Carrabba’s songs, and suddenly “Understanding in a Car Crash” was receiving heavy play time on MTV—and the industry was noticing. According to Spencer Chamberlain of Underoath, “I’ll never forget… I looked at my brother and said, ‘Everything’s gonna change’… Secret’s out! Here goes.” (Payne, 111). 

And there it went—just as the industry had done with jazz, disco, and grunge, it dug its hooks into emo and dragged it in with the promise of platinum records and sold-out shows. While most bands held to the ethics of the hardcore and DIY scenes they had come from, they were also eager for the chance to share their music with a wider audience. At its core, emo was about connecting with people and sharing a message—what better way to do that than increase their record sales by signing with a major label? The developing landscape of the internet was proof that emo was what people wanted: fans flocked to Napster to download Stay What You Are and Bleed American, and Myspace would quickly become the hot spot for bands to connect with fans and other musicians (Payne, 88-9, 235-7). Therefore, it is no surprise that major labels jumped at the chance to sign these up-and-coming bands. By the beginning of the 21^st century, previously small-scale artists were now being wooed with dinner and drinks by A&R reps from DreamWorks and Atlantic.  

One of the aughts’ biggest emo acts to sign to a major was Thursday. The New Jersey natives had put out their debut Waiting on Eyeball Records before signing to Victory alongside label-mates such as Silverstein, Taking Back Sunday, and Atreyu. They quickly found, however, that Victory was not promoting their best creative interests. In a statement on their website in 2002, singer Geoff Rickly said of the label and exec Tony Brummel, “We have realized that we are not and never will be creatively aligned with Tony and his vision for our band and his company.” (Ozzi, 216-7) Due to a loophole in their contract, the only way for Thursday to escape their deal with Victory was to sign to a major label—this escape came in the form of Island Def Jam, though this path was not without its own issues. The band was put through the wringer recording their third album War All the Time, even being sent back to the studio to record new material which would become singles on the record. At the time, their contemporaries were divided: some saw their major label-foray as selling out, while others respected Thursday for being visionaries savvy enough to release their music to a wider audience. Whatever the consensus, though, the industry had learned that they had found a valuable commodity in emo and pop punk, which they continued to exploit throughout the coming decade. 

Though War All the Time is now regaled as Thursday’s greatest record and a fan favorite, the same cannot be said of the first major label release of contemporaries Saves the Day. After the massive success of their third album Stay What You Are, fellow New Jersey band signed to DreamWorks with the hopes of completely changing the landscape of alternative music. Bassist Eben D’Amico recalls, “I remember Chris [Conley, vocalist] saying, ‘I want to be as big as the Beatles’… We were all sort of like, ‘Yes, it’s time for us to do this. We’ve outgrown Vagrant.’” (Payne, 184). Perhaps it was the sentiment that they had outgrown their previous label, Vagrant, or maybe it was the inevitable growth of the band from their roots as punk teenagers inspired by Lifetime—whatever the case, fans found their major label debut uninspired and mediocre. Fan and fellow musician Adam Siska said of the record, “When you hear Stay What You Are and you’re like, ‘I want more!’ In Reverie wasn’t the more you wanted.” (Payne, 221). Whether due to influence from the label or the coincidental shift of the band’s taste, In Reverie was an example to many fans of what would happen if their favorite band got too big for their britches. 

There is an inevitable effect that major labels and mainstream success will have on counterculture bands—simultaneously, they are pushed to become more accessible to the mainstream audience, while the growing audience also makes their music more marketable. Such was the case with My Chemical Romance, who would become one of the biggest names in emo music. Though modern audiences may not be familiar with their past—sold-out arena tours and platinum records have all but alienated them from the hardcore scene they arose from—the band had humble origins in the basements of suburban New Jersey. Their debut LP was released through Eyeball Records, with the band only being able to afford two weeks of recording time. However, through their provocative live shows, they caught the attention of several major labels. One of these was Warner Brothers, home of contemporaries the Used. After much consideration from both My Chem and the label, the band decided to sign to Warner Bros.’s imprint Reprise, who released their sophomore record Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge in 2004. Hardcore loyalists may criticize the album for being “overproduced,” but among fans and the public alike, it was generally well received. Producer Howard Benson retained the punchy punk feel of their first record, while also encouraging a more theatrical slant to their music (Ozzi, 286). Regardless, Three Cheers and My Chem’s signing to a major represents a continuous trend in the industry, wherein big labels confirm tastes, rather than disrupt them—profiting off the risk-taking of independent labels (Mall, 456). 

One such independent label that that had the fruits of its labor harvested this way was Drive-Thru Records. The indie—originally ran by siblings Stefanie and Richard Reines out of their apartment in California—was groundbreaking in its discovery and promotion of up-and-coming artists such as New Found Glory, Finch, and Midtown. Due to financial struggles, though, they were pushed into a deal with MCA (later dissolved into Geffen) which did not benefit them nor their bands. According to Richard of Drive-Thru, the right way to do music is to “only sign bands you love. Chasing after a trend, buying into hype, etc., is going to be the downfall of your label” (Carding). Unfortunately, though, this philosophy may put you in dire financial straits, unable to get your CDs in stores. It is for this reason that Drive-Thru signed a deal with major label MCA, whose ideas about the music industry were much less idealistic than Richard and Stefanie’s—even to the detriment of their current bands. Living Well is the Best Revenge, the sophomore album from Midtown, was up-streamed to the major label; however, when the record did not perform as well as expected, the band was neither green-lit for a third album nor dropped from their deal, leaving them in an artistic purgatory that nearly resulted in the band breaking up. Though labels do not entirely inform the tastes of the public—especially now in the age of the internet and social media—they do have a huge say in what is popularized. 

Throughout the 2000s, emo continued to rise in popularity until it was more mainstream than subculture. Many bands who had defined the scene, such as My Chem and Fall Out Boy, retained the ethics of their hardcore roots despite their success. Even as the industry pushed them into the public eye, artists such as Pete Wentz asserted, “Never trust a band that wouldn’t bleed for you.” The scene was alive and well in the hearts of those who were truly part of it. However, the industry continued to push the scene onto a mainstream audience through MTV performances, Hot Topic T-shirts, and movie soundtrack features. Even formerly small labels had been drawn in—Decaydance (an imprint of Fueled by Ramen) garnered a following that blew Drive-Thru and Fat Wreck Chords out of the water. It was only a matter of time before the pendulum swung, the public grew tired of emo, and major labels shifted their gaze to other genres.  

In the current day, much less emphasis is placed on what label a band is signed to, thanks to the increasing rise of social media and self-produced music. TikTok in particular has become a vital tool for musicians to reach an audience; Magnolia Park released their own music and gained a decent following before earning the attention of Epitaph—now, they are one of the biggest names in “fifth wave” emo. Up and coming cabaret punk/emo act Letters for the Oddities garnered overnight internet fame and have self-produced two albums. And TAG Music, despite being an independent label, is playing a huge role in shaping the tastes of the current generation of alternative music fans. 

There will always be reigning voices in the music industry that influence popular trends. As we’ve seen with countless other genres, such as disco and grunge, labels are eager to package and sell whatever they deem profitable. Often, these trends are siphoned from independent labels who take risks in setting trends and embrace expression. Music becomes a trend. Trends are ephemeral. And seemingly as quickly as they explode, the trends burn out. Perhaps the bands who sign to major labels are sellouts, or perhaps they want their message and their passion shared with as wide an audience as possible. Or maybe they just want to pay the bills. Whatever the case, it is an inevitable stage in the Ouroboros cycle of the music industry. There will always be a higher entity waiting to cannibalize smaller scenes—but if it is any consolation, the internet has leveled the playing field for artists without the need to sign one’s soul away to a label conglomerate. Though the option is still there for those who see it as the best way to make their music accessible, DIY ethos is back on the rise. Who knows—you could be the next big emo band, one viral TikTok away from playing the Warped Tour revival. 

Works Cited 

Carding, Oliver. “Richard Reines Drive Thru Interview.” Via Tokyo Sound Lounge, circa 2004. https://web.archive.org/web/20090207194354/http://blog.bigmonsterhitslittletokyo.co.uk/2008/07/richard-reines-drive-thru-interview.html. Accessed 21 November 2024. 

Caress, Adam. The Day Alternative Music Died: Dylan, Zepplin, Punk, Glam, Alt, Majors, Indies, and the Struggle Between Art and Money for the Soul of Rock. New Troy Books, 2015. 

Mall, Andrew. “Concentration, diversity, and consequences: Privileging independent over major record labels.” Popular Music. Cambridge University Press, 2018. 

Payne, Chris. Where are Your Boys Tonight? The Oral History of Emo’s Mainstream Explosion 1999-2008. HarperCollins, 2023. 

Ozzi, Dan. Sellout: The Major-Label Feeding Frenzy That Swept Punk, Emo, and Hardcore 1994-2007. HarperCollins, 2021. 

Sumner, Robby. “Interview With Richard Reins [sic].” Via Euphonia Online, 12 September 2004. https://www.euphoniaonline.net/interviews/DriveThruRecords.html Accessed 3 October 2024.