I know, I know. Another newsletter? In the Year of Our Lord 2026? I’ll explain, but first, we must go back to the summer of 2007. 

I was a teenager. [Redacted] years old, pathologically online, and absolutely obsessed with “the scene.” My iPod Video (black, of course) was full of emo, screamo, punk, pop punk, metalcore, and post-hardcore. Alt Press was my Bible. My room was plastered from floor to ceiling with band posters, and I prided myself on having no white lightbulbs. My screen names all had at least three “X”’s in them. You get the idea.

It was during this summer that I’d finally gotten permission to go to a music festival — specifically, Projekt Revolution. The FOMO of watching my friends go to Warped Tour and Taste of Chaos had become unbearable, and while I relished the idea of sneaking out, I was 15, it was two hours away, and didn’t have a ride. So instead, I made myself insufferable until I got a “yes.” 

I had a pit ticket, and my cool uncle, who will forever live in my highest esteem for this, got a seat — allowing me to live out my independent teen fantasies. It was Tampa in August, so it was, as I would have put it back then, hot as balls. But I didn’t care. I wandered around admiring people’s hairstyles and handmade T-shirts. I bought overpriced merch. I fell in love with Madina Lake, a band I’d never heard of but would soon blast on my MySpace profile. And I stood for hours in an empty pit just to be in the front when Taking Back Sunday, My Chemical Romance, and Linkin Park got on stage.

Looking back, it’s embarrassing how scared I was to wander into the pit. I’m not sure what I thought would happen. I’d get kicked in the head? Trampled? Come home reeking of weed and get banned from ever attending a concert again? But as the crowd filled, I immediately felt like I’d come home to a self I usually struggled to access. It was the same feeling I got when I snuck away from my parents during a trip to Chicago to meet my internet girlfriend in person. (We’d met on a bandfic forum. Classic.) It’s kind of funny, considering how much about it is about the pAiN oF eXisTenCe; from nasally pop punk to Sunny Day Real Estate, this music made me feel alive in a way I never had before. 

All of this brings me back to the little project you’re now looking at. Whether you’re a recovering member of the MCRmy or part of the “‘Real Emo’ only consists of the dc Emotional Hardcore scene and the late 90’s Screamo scene…” crowd, I’m guessing this music does, or did, something really special for you, too. If so, I think we should all celebrate (and also maybe interrogate) that together.

If I get it right, The Fringe will be a place where you can keep up with what’s new in emo/pop punk while also revisiting the culture and community that made it so addictive in the first place. I’ll use my decade of entertainment experience for outlets like Vulture, The Daily Beast, and Vanity Fair to track band and festival news, catch up with the bands and fans who keep this scene alive, and re-examine the “MySpace era” with fresh eyes. Think: nostalgic features, album retrospectives, and more. 

If that sounds like a good time, then hi! I look forward to savoring the taste of (digital) ink together. And if not, well, no hard feelings. You’ll just never understand. 😛