By 1997, the shine of grunge was wearing off and a new crop of bands was taking music in a more emotionally honest direction. Whether or not their members realized it, they were building the foundation for what would come to be labeled as emo.1997: The Year Emo Broke explores the albums that drove this burgeoning genre that year.
Deep Elm Records’ 1997 release of its pivotal compilation series, The Emo Diaries, coalesced various fringes of the yet-unformed genre into a unified movement, defining what it meant—and what it looked like—to be in one of the most impactful music scenes of that decade. Made up of mostly unsigned artists, some with little or no hype, the inaugural installation of The Emo Diaries brought the term “emo” to the mainstream, marketing the oft-ridiculed term for the first time. The readiness by which the American public bought into the term ensured Deep Elm’s future hate for the over-commercialized genre it begot.
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Ten years after The Emo Diaries, Deep Elm, fed up with the commodification and watering down of the “emo” sound, would want its music back. If the first installment—1997’s What’s Mine Is Yours —helped make emo a household name, 2007’s Taking Back What’s Ours was Deep Elm’s condemnation of Hot Topic and MTV’s stranglehold on the once home-bred genre.
What’s Mine Is Yours presented many young alternative kids with a first encounter with an undefined genre. Everyone had a different take on the hardcore-derived sound, which existed somewhere in the spectrum of outright heavy to quietly melodic. Emo was (and still is) up for interpretation, but the maudlin title of the compilation (including its various follow-ups), and the cover artworks, cemented emo’s character in the cultural terrain. Aesthetically, at least, emo was perceptible. This, along with other compilations like Tree Records’ Postmarked Stamp Single Series and Crank! Records’ Don’t Forget to Breathe, created many of the most beloved (or derided) stereotypes of the genre: sobby titles and black and white images of seemingly meaningless objects, framed moments after the photographer’s discovery of the golden mean (which is a load of horseshit by the way). However cliché now, the art school dropout look and feel of emo came together in large part thanks to What’s Mine Is Yours.
Deep Elm’s founder John Szuch claims he never set out to intentionally assign a sound to emo. In fact, one of the original working titles was The Indie Rock Diaries, but Deep Elm changed changed the name because Jimmy Eat World and Samiam were major label bands. Deep Elm’s open submission policy served the compilation well by bringing varying bands together at different heights in their careers. Future superstars Jimmy Eat World rubbed shoulders with emo godfathers like Camber and still-born bands like Only Airplanes Count. By forgoing focus on hyped-up bands, Deep Elm provided a true glimpse of a scene in the making.
Though the title Emo Diaries may seem like the kind of offhand happenstance that helped shape the public’s perception of a scene, Szuch’s past as an investment banker meant that he knew an opportunity when he saw one. As evidenced by various reviews of the compilation, the term “emo-core” was still heavily prefered at the time. By shortening it to simply “emo,” the sounds and possibilities for inclusion were endless. Removing “-core” from the title diluted its connection to hardcore, and meant that bands with little or no relation to the genre could also fall under the banner of emo. The new umbrella category, coupled with the wide range of featured bands, created a sort of textbook for young DIY artists to follow and be part of emo, particularly for people in musical deserts outside of the common touring routes.
The compilation kicks off with “Opener” by Jimmy Eat World who would arguably go on to be the band that broke emo to the world. The track certainly has elements of Jimmy Eat World’s sound—pop punk-influenced and polished post-hardcore—but it’s still a far cry from the Jimmy Eat World known to TRL viewers after the success of songs like “The Middle.” New York’s Camber (whose debut album Beautiful Charade was released on Deep Elm the same year), Samiam, and Jejune make up some of the better-known groups on the compilation. But it’s the inclusion of bands like Jawbox-inspired Lazycain (who would eventually have an EP produced by J. Robbins), post-rock precursors Race Car Riot, and grunge-meets-power-pop Triple Fast Action that showcased not only Deep Elm’s, but emo’s far-reaching definition. Further Seems Forever, Planes Mistaken for Stars, and The Movielife continued to shape the series’ notable roster in the years to come.
Deep Elm released nine more volumes of the compilation before temporarily abandoning the brand they helped create. Fed up with the “bastardization” of the term emo, Szuch and crew washed their hands of the stylistic trend they helped engender. But after some time off from the series, in 2007, they were ready to take it back. The comeback compilation, and its blunt title (Taking Back What’s Ours) did little to subdue the public’s zeal for the popular emo Szuch eschewed. Aside from being a stylistic push back against bands who dominated the genre at the time like Say Anything or Motion City Soundtrack, Taking Back What’s Ours fell as flat as Deep Elm’s less monumental series, This is Indie Rock. The series came back for one more release (2012’s I Love You but in the End I Will Destroy You) before Szuch laid it to rest once again.
Whether by some kind of genius or unmitigated luck, The Emo Diaries, and particularly What’s Mine Is Yours, arrived at the right time for emo’s propulsion into public consciousness. Message boards lit up with arguments about what emo meant, or how stupid the word was. Deep Elm had unified the scene and helped catalyze an aesthetic. Copies of The Emo Diaries would line the dorm rooms and CD wallets of scenesters for years to come. While some of the bands went on to achieve success, for some of the lesser known artists on the series, it was a chance to be permanently embedded in emo’s history.
Eddie Cepeda is the founder of Mother of Pearl Vinyl and a writer in New York City. Follow him on Twitter.
