Confessions of a Former Emo Kid
(and a final farewell to Lady Punk Rock)




As one who has been long immersed within the punk rock culture (at least to varying degrees), I have seldom divulged the following information to anyone. Although the adolescent genre commonly referred to as emo is unquestionably the offspring of Lady Punk Rock, it is an illegitimate offspring at best, like the bastard child that nobody likes to talk about. Simply put, if you meet someone who prides himself on being a diehard NOFX fan, chances are he doesn't own any My Chemical Romance t-shirts. Likewise, if you meet a diehard fan of My Chemical Romance, he probably doesn't know a lot of NOFX, and if he does, or claims to, then it is probably because he seeks acceptance within the larger scene, and not because Fat Mike "rocks his socks," so to speak.

This is how it should be, because emo and punk rock, while related in certain idiosyncratic ways, represent two very different attitudes and outlooks. The former sees the glass as half empty, and the latter sees the glass as delightfully breakable. If I may offer another illustration, the emo kid is like the punk rocker's whiny little brother who always hangs around and tries to act the part, but can never manage to reach the same level of contentment because the only area of his big brother's life he does NOT mimic is his initiative, rather opting to just mope around wondering why life isn't going his way.

I don't know about you, but I would much rather model myself after the big brother. The paradox however is that the little brother modeled himself after the big brother as well, at least in theory. As I touched upon before, the little brother's downfall was forgetting one key ingredient: personal initiative. As I write this, I think to myself how much I hate using the word initiative, because it is largely ambiguous. Taking initiative can mean crossing the street as cars are passing, or it can refer to fulfilling a task before one is asked to do so. For the sake of this post, I don't wish to employ either of those two definitions, at least not in a literal sense. When I refer to taking initiative, I am focused on the idea of deciding—rather than just looking for—one's own destiny. This is the heart of punk rock, DIY, and the most central element that sets the genre apart from bleeding-heart emo. It is this theory that drew me into the world of punk rock back in 1999, at the age of 16. There was a time before that, however, and that is where my confession begins.

So, without any further hesitation or needless circumlocution, here goes. I, Kris Avalon, being of sound mind, was once an emo kid. Let me elaborate. I was an emo kid in terms of philosophy. I didn't necessarily listen to emo music in high school; I wasn't attending Jimmyeatworld concerts or anything like that. It was an attitude, a belief that I was a victim of my circumstances and that there was nothing I could do to change them. My only options were to complain about my circumstances with the hope that I could bless others with just a shred of the same self-imposed misery that I was feeling, and to write poetry about slitting my wrists (though of course I would never have the fortitude to actually try it).

Why won't girls go out with me? How come I don't get invited to parties? Why does my dad have to be so strict? That jerk doesn't understand me at all! Why is the world so bleak?

For a time, these were common questions and exclamations for me. Granted, I never really talked to any girls or hung out with people who threw parties (me associate with shallow jocks?! the scandal!), and my home life really wasn't that bad, but nevertheless I had myself thoroughly convinced that I was suffering the greatest plight since Auschwitz, and at no fault of my own.

Then one day I was strolling through a Wherehouse Music store with one of my friends, quietly lamenting the tragedy of my small allowance, when I happened upon the used CDs. At the time the employees allowed customers to open the used CDs and listen to them, and so I would often go to the store specifically to sample unfamiliar music. On this particular day I found a CD with a peculiar title: "So Long and Thanks For all the Shoes." It was by a band called NOFX, a name I recognized only because one of my acquaintances had a patch with those letters on his backpack. Feeling curious, I placed the disk into the store's CD player and was instantly brought to my knees (perhaps not literally) by the opening notes of "Punk Rock Elite."

It's funny, because when I think back to all of the turning points in my life, every one of them in some way involves music. This day was no exception. I was mesmerized by the CD as I listened to it, one song after another. Some of the songs were fast, some were a bit slower, some had heavy distortion, some resembled ska, but the whole collective album seemed cohesive in the sense that it was one continuous celebration of just not giving a shit. They weren't the greatest looking guys, nor the wealthiest or most famous, but it was evident that they enjoyed their lives, and I wanted a part of it.

That was the beginning of my journey with punk rock. DIY was my new philosophy, and I can proudly say that I left my emo ways behind. In fact, my senior year of high school was even enjoyable for the most part (aside from the stresses of choosing a college and hoping for acceptance). Punk has done a lot of great things for me. It has lifted me from the trammel of self-loathing, helped me to start taking control of my own circumstances (today I’m going for my bachelor’s degree, I have a great job, a novel which has been submitted for publishing consideration, and my music career is moving forward with each new day) and ultimately altered my outlook on life for the better. I even thought about getting a DIY tattoo, but I might wait on that one.

So if there are any emo kids out there who are reading this, please don’t take offense. It is not my intention to demean anyone specifically. I enjoy listening to Dashboard Confessional, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco and Story of the Year quite immensely, and unlike many who align themselves with punk rock culture, I’m not at all ashamed to admit it. I love many genres of music and pride myself on being unusually eclectic, but my concern is more with the attitudes than with the music itself. I can agree that The Used have written some great songs, but if your outlook on life is based on or reflected in their lyrics, then you, my friend, have a problem. You only live once, and it’s up to you to make things happen. Don’t sit around whining about your circumstances. Get out there and change the world. Ask yourself why things are so bleak, and then examine possible ways in which you can improve your situation. DIY. It sounds idealistic, I know, and I don’t mean to make light if you are the type of person who has suffered real tragedy, but if you’re anything like I was (and I daresay, even if you are worse off), there is hope for you yet. You need not even enjoy punk rock music to enjoy the punk rock mentality.

And it is that mentality to which I am forever indebted. Who would have ever thought that a subculture rooted in drugs, violence and untethered hedonism could be a beacon of such immense personal wisdom? Thank you, Lady Punk Rock. I will never forget the lessons you have taught me, nor will I take them for granted or allow them to cease from guiding me in my day-to-day life. You lifted me during dark times and taught me what it truly means to live. It is probably true that very few of your apprentices have followed the same political path that I have chosen, but you are the reason that I am a Republican, a libertarian, and all that seems the antithesis of punk. It is possible that you may have intended for me to follow the punk rock mainstream and fight for left-wing causes, I will never know for sure. I have a hard time believing it, though, because it is you, Lady Punk Rock, who has taught me to look to myself, to forge my own destiny, to fight for my own prosperity and stand on my own two feet. If I am to accept that I am not a victim of my circumstances, as you taught me in the early days, then I am also to accept that I am responsible for my own life: its circumstances, its hardships, its outcomes. I am reminded of Larry Elder, the popular radio talk show host. His parents were both Democrats, but as they instilled within him morals of self-determination and personal responsibility, they had no idea they were raising a Republican. You have done the same for me, Lady Punk Rock, and while it may not have been your intention to mold me into a Republican, you have done just that, and I thank you for it.

So farewell, Lady Punk Rock. There is little more that you can teach me. I thank you once again for the influence you have had in my life, and I promise to keep in touch. The music that you continue to spawn will always remain in my collection, and your spirit will always remain within me. I may not be performing punk music anymore, but do know that the candle of your punk rock essence will always continue to burn brightly in my heart. You have been a loyal friend and companion, and we have shared some great moments together.

So long and thanks for all the love.