Yes, they’re back and looking as undeniably emo as ever.
Fall Out Boy has been on your mind—just admit it already. I know we share the memories of a blue-shirted, chubby Patrick Stump screaming semi-unintelligibly on your MTV2-tuned television set, or perhaps the DSL-era front pic of Pete Wentz that had your slow-loading Internet goin’ nuts. Maybe you are currently wiping your mouth from forcing yourself to upchuck at the notion that the pop-punk messiahs you forced yourself to forget have resurfaced from three years worth of stalemate.
By the way, 2 Chainz is the protagonist of their lead single’s video. He really did it.
I cherish the burnt Memorex CD-R that sent 12-year-old Michael into another realm that extended past the dreadful MySpace CSS hacks and the MTV2 I mentioned a bit earlier. That was the time From Under the Cork Tree was out and assaulting the earlobes of preteens nationwide. Well, except for suburban Prince George’s County, MD. I’m pretty sure we were outside of the blast radius and easily survived the incubation period. The population there is over 90-percent Black, and my 12-year-old self had some sort of penchant for guitar riffs despite my limited encounters with them.
My friend Ronald gave me that CD-R and indirectly introduced me to the first rock band I actually identified with at all. Mind you, I had no eyeliner, the baggy clothes were still poppin’ and I didn’t encounter an emo/scene/punk/alt anything until the middle of high school several years after. But my Black-self felt some sort of liberation slithering in the current of my Walkman spinning on my pant leg. Was it a silent rebellion as well?
Where I come from, Black kids and rock bands together weren’t a thing. Perhaps that’s why I was embarrassed and kept my affinity a slight secret.
If you weren’t passing Courvoisier or browsing to the DirecTV uncensored Rap Music Choice channel (I did both), then what the hell were you doing as a Black kid? The world was an oyster, but only for urban radio and a soundtrack on whatever sports game EA came out with that year. There was another dichotomy present as well: the notion that there is Black Music and White Music. Fall Out Boy was on the White side of the spectrum, thus I pondered if I fell there as well. I remember having to laugh awkwardly in faux-denial when my parents would laugh about how I like that “rock stuff.” Codeword: White stuff.
When Infinity on High came out a few years after my introduction to Fall Out Boy, I had another awkward experience. I had the utmost intention to spend 15 dollars on a copy of the new album. This was back when people were still ripping CDs instead of using Google as the first resort. When my mom pulled up outside Circuit City (it still existed), I rushed in and glanced alone around the vast CD racks of yesteryear. I was Tom Clancy and this was Operation: Buy White Music and Leave As Soon As Possible.
I had to abort the mission; my stealth was no good here. I asked the clerk, a Black man, if he could help me find Infinity on High. “What?” he replied.
He directed me to the CD. I speed-walked out of the store as quickly as humanly possible. I tore the shrink-wrap and swallowed my insecurity as I did it.
19-year-old Michael is thankfully not the same. As I grew, I learned to reject the notion of assigning racial identity to music because I have had the great opportunity of being exposed to so many people with expansive musical palettes. In response to this, I feel absolutely no shame in expanding my own. My favorite bands are Radiohead and Grizzly Bear now; at age 12, I hadn’t the slightest idea about what “Paranoid Android” was. But my reflection on the time periods where I would shove my rock sensibilities to the silent harbor of my earbuds and the sightline of my nightstand drawer, makes me much sadder now that I understand so many more Black kids like me are still being brought up under the ideal that the authenticity of one’s identity can be challenged by what’s in an iTunes library. I wish I didn’t have to hear Pete Wentz’s background screeching in such a confined space. Thankfully, as I grew, I have also witnessed these notions being phased out as new generations turn to a renaissance of eclectic art that is more expressive, unrestrained and as broad as ever.
Fall Out Boy’s return to pop-punk Pope stature makes me smile no matter how much I question if the flair is still there. The 12-year-old me smiled from within, but then grew tearful once present-day me balked and didn’t buy a tour ticket after second-guessing whether or not their popularity would resonate with their teenybopper-turned-2 Chainz listener fan base.
At least now, I can be as off-key as I want. She said she’s no good with words but I’m worse.
Agree with Michael that there’s more to enjoying music than going along with those around you? Hit him up at mdpenn@wisc.edu
