Revival or Riches?

Scrolling… scrolling…scrolling…yawn, “Wait−−Oh my god, this song is awful!” 

Whether you’re on TikTok, Instagram Reels or YouTube Shorts, there’s likely a chance you have stumbled across a song snippet that made you physically recoil in secondhand embarrassment. Usually, it’s a video of a guy in his late-20s lip syncing along to the chorus of an auto tuned pop-punk nightmare. As you continue to scroll you wonder why there seems to be so many of these musicians emerging within the past couple of years, and why their shelf-life doesn’t seem to last more than a few months.  

The influx of these artists is indicative of a larger issue, the commodification of historically DIY  music-culture and the overshadowing of smaller local artists. 

Word of mouth, flyers stapled on bulletin boards, telephone poles and info lines used to be common strategies applied to advertise underground music shows. With the rise of social media, many promoters utilized these old-school methods alongside making social media accounts where they would repost these ways of communication. There would still be a number to call that would give you random coordinates, or the name of someone’s backyard without an address but rather, “Ask A  Punk!” 

A usual flyer for a show would have the time, place as well as the lineup. Most flyers are commissioned by artists in the scene or done by the bands themselves. Photo courtesy of @socal.emo on IG

Since the pandemic, it has become a dying art.  

Rather than a local band’s Instagram account popping up on your stories, you're attacked by sponsored Instagram Reels of an already ‘established’ artist, no matter how bad their music may be. Since the social media algorithms know you’re into this type of music, why not push artists who are  paying for promotion instead? Therefore, these pseudo goth, punk, emo, indie; the list really  goes on, artists flood your for you page replacing the musical acts that you really wish to see. 

Bree Del Valle runs the Instagram page @socal.emo where she posts emo shows in the  Southern California region. Although she has been a part of both the emo and punk scenes  respectively, she only threw a few shows prior to the pandemic.  

“Through my platform I try to post as many local emo/screamo bands and their fliers as I can  regardless of (their) following,” Del Valle said. “When I throw shows I try to help out smaller  bands I think, or up-and-coming, by booking them first instead of going for the same lineups.” 

As for the SoCal scene, bands like Claybirds, Vs Self, Knumears and Widowdusk have gained  decent followings, with some bands being reached out to by larger record labels. As of the past  month, Vs Self has announced that they will be playing two larger emo festivals this year. 

Shows are usually held in skateparks, under freeways, alleyways as well as established venues. The photo here is from 2021 when DIY shows began moving to outdoor spaces. Photo by Jd Preslicka

However, it is important to keep in mind that these bands all started out playing backyards and  have only recently gotten their popularity. While much of their following can be accredited to  TikTok, the connections they made with the community is what made them popular.

Rather than starting their careers in search of social media clout, someone actually went, “Hey, we should start a band.” 

However, Del Valle doesn’t think that the community will be affected by these short-famed social media artists in the long run, even if their music takes inspiration from the bands without credit.  

“I don’t think that advertiser friendly emo bands can harm DIY scenes unless they directly  takeover DIY spaces. Like Live Nation, the actual killer of DIY spaces,” Del Valle said.  

It is almost scary to see so many LA transplant-turned-emo music acts that have been popping  up on all social media platforms. It is a common theme for these artists to have either a  complete aesthetic change or no social media presence prior to the pandemic. 

To many users at the time, seeing someone with an “alternative” style, which is already a  completely different can of worms, was a sneak-peak into individuality. These artists were  posting their “emo” looks and sounds on TikTok, and many were drawn to the idea of an edgy  aesthetic. You can’t blame the fans of these artists though, unless they found their dad’s high school record collection it would be a stretch for them to come across a band like Sunny Day  Real Estate naturally.  

On that note, there seems to be a sense of discontentment when a local band does become  popular on social media. The term for this phenomenon has been dubbed “TikTokification” and  has been a topic of discussion since the pandemic. While it is not a social media platform’s fault  for what becomes popular among certain groups, its algorithm does allow for the reinforcement of constantly showing the cool next big thing.  

As with most emo bands, Versera had a short lifespan, but was a favorite of the scene. Photo courtesy of @versedmagazine on IG

Yavier Rios was the former guitarist for Versera and is currently the guitarist for Kiowa. He’s been playing in the local emo scenes for around two years and has had many experiences playing alongside the previously mentioned bands. When asked about what his views were on  TikTokification, his response was surprisingly positive.  

“I think it’s very funny and like, silly at first. But in a way I’m grateful for it because of how it  inspires kids to go to DIY shows,” Rios said. “Ever since TikTok emo stuff has blown up I’ve  noticed more people going to shows.” 

Social media users are always looking for the next thing to distinguish themselves from others.  This is where TikTokification plays into commodification of DIY subcultures, thus producing  artists who make arguably unlistenable music based on an edgy aesthetic alone. While the  original idea for the trend usually comes from a true-blue artist, it becomes blown out of  proportion and turned into something for sale.