HOW TO START YOUR OWN EMO BAND

So you want to start an emo band? Follow these steps, and you are sure to be an emo superstar.

First you will need a band name. With this, you have several options.

1) Make it long and pretentious and abstract. Names like "and we cried beneath the wintery wisp of summer's sadness" or "nearer we were to the cusp of forever" are good choices.

2) Start your band name with a verb or adverb. Something like "Reaching For Never" or "Slowly We Stumbled" or "Drowning Toward Eternity."

3) Throw a day of the week into your band name. Maybe "Teardrops Till Monday." "Sobbing For Tuesday." "Wednesday We Wept."

4) Use a girl's name in your band name. "The Loretta Capsule." "The Jennifer Dilemma." "The Cynthia Secret." "Sobbing For Sandra."

5) Better yet, combine any or all of the above. "and you will know us on friday as we weep for catherine in yesterday's shadows." "grasping for gretchen with wednesday's tears." "tiny backpack of tuesday's sniffles for kelly's stars."

Now you need to work on your image, because your image is the most important thing about you, and it takes very much work to pull it off correctly, even though the goal is to look like it didn't take any work at all. You will want to perfect the technique I like to refer to as "Conformity through non-conformity." In other words, your goal is to show that you're different by looking like everyone else.

First of all, the hair. Remember the bad haircuts some of the poorer kids in the '80s had, that didn't match up, with bits and pieces sticking up all over the place from a bad home haircut? That's considered "good hair" now. Grab some scissors. Hack at your hair. Don't even look in the mirror. Close your eyes, grab random chunks, and start cutting, with the dullest scissors you can find. Bangs are mandatory. Either cut them unevenly, or grow them out a little bit so you can sidesweep them like a bad combover on a 1950's science teacher. Dye it black.

Glasses. You have two choices. Thick rimmed and black ala Buddy Holly, or narrow and vintage looking, the ugliest frames you can find. You don't want to look good, remember. The goal is to make yourself look as aesthetically unpleasing as possible. Even if you don't wear glasses, start.

Shirt. Again, you have two choices. Buy your shirts at a thrift store, or buy new shirts that look like thrift store shirts, and lie. These shirts should be at least 2 sizes too small for you. They also should have random slogans on them. "Bob's Towing Service." "Ohio Area Boy Scout Camp." "Adironack Kayak Trip, Summer 1989." "I Bought This Shirt At Steve's House Of Ice Cream."

Bonus points for anything suggesting childhood. "Denver Day Camp." "Sunnydale Parks and Playground." "Edmonton Lincoln Log Convention." You want to appear as child-like as possible, even though you are in your mid-'20s, because childhood is cute.

Even more bonus points for anything having to do with past, currently uncool pop culture, preferably from the '80s. Its uncoolness makes it cool. "New Kids On The Block." "Ghostbusters." Hairband shirts are also good. "Warrant." "Poison." "Def Leppard." It doesn't matter if you've ever heard these bands. You don't need to. You're not supposed to actually like them. They're just campy to wear because they're from the '80s, and you are a modern hipster and therefore find it kitschy and funny.

Pants. Should be tight and too short on you. Shorten the pantlegs if you need to. They should ride several inches up your calf. You want to wear Dickies if you can find them. Dickies are the official emo pants. Don't question it, just go with it. If not, you want to search for women’s jeans. The tighter, the better. And always, always wear them with a Hot Topic starred or studded belt.

Shoes. Grubby old sneakers will suffice. If your hair is good enough, no one will be looking at your feet anyway.

Backpack. You should always wear one. It should be covered with patches of bands, the more obscure the better. Preferably ones no one else has heard of, which will make you seem more knowledgeable and hip than everyone else. Make up band names and silkscreen your own patches if you have to.

Your backpack should also contain books you have no intention of ever reading. These books should be by classic authors, the older the book the better. Poetry from the 1800s. The Collective Works of H.R. Mencken. The Portable Dryden. You get the point. A little French or existentialist philosophy never hurt anyone to carry around, either. You should also always have a notebook on hand for scrawling down your sad laments at your turmoil of trudging through an uncaring and uncool world. A world full of bad hair.

Body modification. This is imperative. If you are not into tattoos and piercings, now is the time to start. You want to begin by stretching your earlobes. You want at least to be able to wear 00 guage plugs in them. Each guage larger you stretch your earlobes by wins you another 2 scenester points, so stretch away.

You will also need star tattoos. This is essential, and should be done in pairs. Preferably on your wrists, but you can also get them on your feet, ankles, the backs of your calves, your back, your chest, your arms, anywhere. The important point is that you have at least 2 stars on you. After that, you can branch out and get other tattoos, but the stars come first. Make sure to have stars in some of your other designs as well, if not all of them. Stars are emo. Stars are cool.

The above fashion rules apply to both boys and girls. If you are a boy, your girlfriend should look exactly like you do. If you are a girl, your boyfriend should look exactly like you do. But if someone must look more feminine, it should be the boy.

So now you've got your name and you've got your look. Now it's time to write some songs.

Think back to childhood again. Think back to that girl who sat behind you in Mrs. McElroy's 3rd grade class. You know, the one who broke your heart because she wouldn't ride the seesaw with you during recess. Write a song about her. Musically, this, as well as all your other songs, should follow a formula. It should start out slow and melodic, with lots of intricate guitar work. Think the Smiths. It's okay if you're not good enough to play like the Smiths. That would ruin it anyway.

Sing softly and sadly. But you don't want to sound too much like a wimp, so make it heavy during the chorus, and either start shrieking and screaming, or have another band member shriek and scream in the background while you sing softly and sadly. This not only reaffirms your manhood, but also shows "emotion." It shows the hurt and betrayal and frustration and heartache you've endured these long and painful years because of her. This heavy part should also almost sound metal, but remember, you aren't metal. You have better fashion than that.

Now for the lyrical content. Your song should not rhyme, first of all. Rhyming is outdated and therefore uncool. And use the most abstract and big words you can think of. If you can't think of any, reach into your backpack and pull out a book. Steal some words from it. Don't worry, it's acceptable to open one of your books for this purpose. You're not actually reading it, so you're still okay.

Now think of that girl. She crushed you, didn't she. But don't say "You crushed me." Say something like "In unfathomable turmoil I bemoan the latent state of my apathy as my heart freezes with anguished neglect." Got it? Let's try writing that song now.

you smile stars

by throwing back my head on thursday as we softly sob for melissa

Betrayal bequeathed beneath the sky. Solemnly I wait for winter's unrest. My heart freezes sadly as underlying waves Of torrential pain engulf my repose.

(scream here) Why! Why! You don't love me. Why! Why! You don't listen. I abdicate my sense of self for you. I wake and wallow in dreams of azure. My eternity bequeaths no closure.

The stars are soft tonight. They seductively entone your visage. I wrap my hands around my ache And sing to ears bereft.

Barren I am. Devoid of forever. Incantations of nonsensical latitude. Your star fell. I touched it. It burned my hands. You burned my heart. I drown in vacant tears of nostalgia.

Why! Why! You don't love me. Why! Why! You don't listen. I abdicate my sense of self for you. I wake and wallow in dreams of azure. My eternity bequeaths no closure.

Sadly I close this curtain. My thoughts unravel in iridescent ubiquity. Shielded from the coldness by my hollow heart. Unrequited my epithet. Cascade in shards of silver. Sinking to the whisper of goodbye. Why.



Looks like you've got it down. See you on tour.

-PMO from LUDO 

 


Brothers and Sisters in Christ.
I pray that the Peace of our Lord resides with you always.

I just wanted to humbly announce that I come bearing gifts of Rock and Roll.
So for all those who are moved by music…. Prepare to be shaken!

Already… Even as we speak through this electronic notepad
I am entering the zone of musical enlightenment.

With a keen sensitivity to the movement of spiritual chords
I have my game face on and am ready to Serenade the One who Reigns on High.

Effective immediately until completion of our journey
I shall now be known simply as the Minister of Sound.

God’s Speed. 

 


Rocks and hard spaces
Hope in rare places
Fate responds with readiness
To helpless situations

Fear of misdirection
Faith in the sword
Waiting for the answer
Restless at the core

I hear the cries of ignorance
Beckoning my call
But aware of old devices
Meant for me to fall

I feel a rise of excellence
Deep within my heart
But caught by indecisiveness
I fail to even start

Could it be my destiny
To rise with words for all
Or do my eyes betray me
Lusting for the mall

Is discontent a marker
For acquired western flesh
Or is my heart’s objection
The perfect litmus test

I know the manifesto
Drives emancipation
It’s the only way to go
With no needed explanation

But still there is a longing
To answer with a shout
The call of representative
With honor over clout

Even though the lesser things
Really are what matters
Without a glimpse of leadership
Vision breaks to scatter

Would I know the real thing
If ever did I see
Would I be the real thing
If ever they chose me