Music is a powerful thing. Most of us have a subconscious soundtrack to our lives; those songs which celebrate our highs and others that help us move through the lows. Music has felt more essential than ever this past year as we have been shut indoors, experiencing rapid changes and constant uncertainty.
Although specific subgenres are becoming increasingly difficult to define, I’ve always been a huge fan of alternative rock, particularly emo and pop punk—punk rock’s bratty younger sibling who isn’t afraid to throw a catchy chorus at you while throwing a finger up at society. My lockdown has largely been set to the soundtrack of the upbeat, defiant tracks from Enter Shikari’s Nothing Is True and Everything Is Possible, Stand Atlantic’s Pink Elephant, and All Time Low’s Wake Up Sunshine.
The latter have had a fantastic year. Their earworm ‘Monsters’ earned the band their first number 1 single and was re-released with Demi Lovato providing additional vocals. Their latest single, ‘Once in a Lifetime’, recently cracked the top 10 in America’s charts. The band’s 2007 classic ‘Dear Maria, Count Me In’ entered the UK rock and metal singles charts for the first time in January of this year, with the band gaining a considerable following thanks to the viral “Mom, it was never a phase, it’s a lifestyle” meme.
I remember buying All Time Low’s album So Wrong, It’s Right (which features the popular ‘Dear Maria’) when it was first released. Back then, I never could have imagined tracks from the album getting radio play or featuring on music channels beyond Kerrang! or Scuzz. Seeing them achieve chart success with both old and new songs felt like a big win for pop punk.
Pop punk never died, but TikTok has been a key player in the subculture’s resurgence in popularity. The app goes beyond turning classic tracks into memes. It’s providing artists at all stages of their career with an accessible place to reach new audiences. Waterparks discovered the benefits of TikTok when their track ‘I Miss Having Sex But At Least I Don’t Want To Die Anymore’ went viral on the app, with the song soon garnering over 10 million streams. Discussing the song’s newfound popularity with Rock Sound, frontman Awsten Knight revealed they hadn’t marketed the track or even released it as a single. In fact, the band members weren’t even on TikTok at the time. The mass streams grew organically, overtaking ‘Dreamboy’ which they had released as a single and was being aired on mainstream radio networks across the US.
It’s a beneficial app for up-and-coming bands, too. In April, Chicago five-piece Action/Adventure signed to rock label Pure Noise, acknowledging their TikTok fans in their announcement. The band became prominent on the app for starting the viral hashtag #PopPunkInColor to highlight diversity in alternative subculture. Their minute-long song ‘Barricades’, which confronts the stereotypes the band members have been subjected to over the years, quickly spread across the app with the hashtag. Their active presence on TikTok has led users (myself included) to check out their back catalogue on streaming apps like YouTube and Spotify.
Rather than being centred around established fanbases, TikTok feels as if it was designed to champion music by pushing songs to new audiences. The app’s incredibly responsive algorithm not only guides its users to a stream of content based on their viewing history, collating relevant clips on a personalised For You page, it also diligently scours the app for brand new uploads so viewers are always met with fresh content when they log in. If these new clips perform well, the platform will take an active interest in boosting the video’s visibility. Popular audio—be it sound bites or song snippets—is added to internal playlists for TikTokers to use, significantly influencing what audio is shared. Including popular audio in your clip can help gain views, pushing the clip to more users and ultimately exposing trending music to a much wider audience than a band’s core fanbase. Consequently, the app has become widely recognised as a valuable source for finding—or rediscovering—music; the modern Myspace without the pressure of a Top 8.
TikTok isn’t the only place where pop punk tracks are trending. It has infiltrated the charts, thanks to artists from other music scenes dipping their toes into the pop punk pool. The most prominent crossover has been from the world of hip hop. The two genres have a long history of overlapping. Noughties rap-rockers Gym Class Heroes are a prime example, blending a variety of musical styles in their songs and collaborating with some of the biggest names in pop and rock. B.O.B. recruited Hayley Williams’ vocals for the chorus of the smash hit single ‘Airplanes’, Ludacris and Sum 41 teamed up for a single in the early 2000s, and Hoodie Allen joined forces with State Champs in 2017. Emo royalty Fall Out Boy have been particularly experimental in genre-mashing, collabing with the likes of Jay-Z, Big Sean, Lil Wayne, and Wyclef Jean over the years.
However, the crossover has picked up steam over the course of the past year. Machine Gun Kelly’s transition from rap to rock has been an undeniable success. While he has long shown an interest in alternative rock, having collaborated with Sleeping with Sirens in 2013 and performed at Warped Tour, he fully embraced the sound last year when he teamed up with Travis Barker to produce his pop punk album, Tickets To My Downfall. The album rocketed to number 1 in the US charts and number 3 in the UK. Now Sleeping with Sirens’ frontman, Kelling Quinn, is guesting on the rapper’s rock-influenced tracks.
Machine Gun Kelly and Travis Barker Perform at 2020 MTV Music Awards (Image Source: Loudwire)
Pop punk veterans have been incredibly influential in this musical merger, particularly Travis Barker. The Blink-182 drummer has astutely identified acts who could benefit from the thrumming power chords and fast drum licks associated with pop punk. Alongside Machine Gun Kelly, he produced rapper Trippie Redd’s rock album Neon Shark vs Pegasus, and has collabed with Bebe Rexha, POORSTACY, and KennyHoopla while ushering Willow Smith into the alt rock movement. Barker has proven himself to be savvy in using TikTok to identify new talent, too. The first act signed to his label was singer and TikTok personality, Jxdn. It’s proving difficult to find songs which don’t include the words “feat. Travis Barker” in alternative Spotify playlists.
While Barker is undoubtedly an influential force in this evolving world of genre-defying music, pop punk/hip hop crossover collaborations are becoming a common trend. All Time Low’s smash hit ‘Monsters’ features a rap verse by blackbear, Stand Atlantic’s latest single features a rap by nothing,nowhere., and 070 Shake features on the title track of Pvris’ latest album, Use Me. This willingness to embrace change in a genre that has had a relatively consistent core sound since the Nineties is helping to breathe new life into pop punk.
I don’t think it’s an accident that pop punk is having its moment in the height of a pandemic where we seem to be pushing against the weight of the world on a near-daily basis. Yes, the upbeat rhythms are an instant mood-booster, but most bands in the emo/pop punk scene focus lyrically on mental health and finding strength in community. Gone are the days where pop punkers croon about their bitch-of-an-ex or pine over unrequited love (though there are still some great songs about relationships being released). Instead, they directly address themes like confidence (or lack thereof), feeling overwhelmed, going to therapy, depression and grief; things many of us are feeling right now. It’s a cathartic medium in a time where we’re trying to make sense of a world that needs to change but the traditions feel firmly wedged in place.
It’s important to acknowledge that pop punk’s history hasn’t been quite as positive as its bouncy attitude might suggest. The industry has typically favoured straight white men: the Noughties simply saw eyeliner and skinny jeans replace the cargo shorts and backwards caps donned by pop punk artists of the Nineties. Anyone who didn’t fit the white-guy mould and tried to break into the scene was faced with considerable scrutiny; a toxic trait that extended to its fanbase.
The genre was rife with misogyny: from casual sexism vilifying women to lyrics implying women should be murdered for refuting romantic advances, to the community undergoing its own #MeToo movement when it was discovered band members were taking advantage of the genre’s teenage, female audience. Women who wanted to be part of the alt rock subculture had to work twice as hard to get in, not only convincing record labels and producers they had talent, but the fanbase that they were “genuine” punk rockers, too. Avril Lavigne was scrutinised by the media for her pop rock debut when she signed to her label, despite having roots in her hometown’s skater scene—an identity she has stayed true to throughout her career. Hayley Williams has recently spoken at length about her experiences within the pop punk community and the internalised misogyny she consequently developed from being welcomed into the boys’ club. It wasn’t a space for women: they had to adapt to the prominent white-guy ideologies to survive.
While white women faced an uphill battle to earn their spot around the pop punk table, Black artists and fans found themselves almost entirely shut out. The legitimacy of those who did break through was often challenged. Dani Washington, drummer for Neck Deep, and his friend Alex Aiyeniwon spoke to Kerrang! last year about representation in the alternative scene, their experiences of racism within the community, and their eagerness to let fans know it is becoming a more equal place. However, there is still work to be done. Just over a quarter of the acts listed in the rescheduled 2021 lineup for Slam Dunk—Britain’s biggest festival celebrating pop punk, ska, and emo—features a band member who isn’t a white male. It’s a significant increase from their intended 2020 lineup (only 15% of the performers identified as female, and nearly all performers were white), but this imbalance of booked acts suggests pop punk continues to be a comfortable space for white men in the industry.
Pop punk is more complicated than it appears on the surface. It’s an industry dominated by white men, but the community appeals to hugely diverse audiences thanks to its predominantly defiant tone, urging us to fight against the system and call out discrimination. It can be a positive environment, but it can also be exclusionary, surrounded by unnecessary gatekeeping. The “us against the world” attitude only works if the guys behind the microphones let “us” in to stand alongside them. The stages are certainly big enough to share.
Thanks to our heightened social awareness and the genre maturing, the alternative rock subculture has become significantly more welcoming to artists and fans from diverse backgrounds. It looks as if things are starting to change for the better as the scene is now visibly adopting its message of inclusivity. While Action/Adventure drew attention to diversity in the community through their TikTok movement, bands like Meet Me @ The Altar are being lauded as the next big thing in the genre: a well-earned claim, as the trio’s catchy hooks and positive message are quickly cementing them as one of the leading artists in this new wave of pop punk. By making this shift and authentically representing everyone who has found a sense of belonging in the community, pop punk will only go from strength to strength.
Meet Me @ The Altar (Image Source: www.meetmeatthealter.com)
With the alt rock subculture on the rise, legitimately embracing a shift towards a more equal community, it seemed almost inevitable that corporations would latch onto the trend to make a quick buck. This has most recently led to an interesting case study in the form of a band named Tramp Stamps. The female three-piece from Nashville found themselves on the receiving end of some of the internet’s most potent vitriol last month after releasing their single, ‘I’d Rather Die’. Now, the single is—objectively—not good. Laced with excessive autotune and cringy, faux-feminist messages, Tramp Stamps appear to be the music industry’s latest equivalent to AC/DC T-shirts in Topshop.
Tramp Stamps are an inevitable byproduct of the TikTok era; a clear example of what happens when art is puppeteered by popular trends and clever algorithms. The band preach punk rock and female empowerment. But their questionable origins and sudden image shift to embrace riot grrrl style and a quirky TikTok presence has been the catalyst that sparked the flames of fury directed towards them.
In January 2021, prior to their single being released, the trio filmed a TikTok video where they counted how many pop punk classics they knew, lip-synching to the lyrics. They found themselves stumbling over a couple of low hurdles, with two out of the three failing to recognise My Chemical Romance’s 2004 emo anthem ‘I’m Not Okay (I Promise)’. What should have been a fun video instead revealed the women were not as familiar with the genre as they were eager to lead the public to believe. The video quickly racked up millions of views, with criticism thundering down around them.
Internet sleuths began to dig, determined to unmask the trio like an uninspired Scooby-Doo villain. The more they searched, the clearer it became that Tramp Stamps were perhaps not three low-budget buddies who randomly met at a bar, got drunk, and wrote some songs—as their promo material would lead one to believe. Instead, they have years of experience working with notorious publishers in the music industry, including ties to Dr Luke. This link not only called their grassroots legitimacy into question but their feminist sincerity too. Why would a band that rejects the abuse of patriarchal power work with the man Kesha took to court for sexual harassment and gender violence?
Before Tramp Stamps appeared online, they each had budding careers in pop and country music. But, as TikTok algorithms started flagging that pop punk was back in fashion, they appeared online in November 2020 with bubblegum hair (which, they proudly pointed out in another TIkTok video, was representative of the colours of the bi flag, tying into the queer-baiting criticisms they’ve since received) and band T-shirts, performing acoustic covers of the likes of Blink-182 and All American Rejects. They had a flashy website which (naively) told the world they were the first to sing about women’s issues in this genre: “It’s the kind of stuff women talk about all the time with their friends, but no one’s ever put it to this kind of music before.” An array of merch was ready to go. Tramp Stamps were ready for fame.
Unfortunately, the one thing alt rock and pop punk fans value highly, is authenticity. And this is where Tramp Stamps are entirely lacking. Not knowing anthems is fine: we don’t all have to be experts in everything. But pretending to be an independent band building themselves up from nothing in the true spirit of punk on an app that gives people without industry connections a foot in the door? Well, that’s an entirely different matter.
The crux of the situation comes down to the band members’ privilege, and their unwillingness to acknowledge it. Their actions contradict their advertised beliefs. They’ve glossed over uncovered racist Tweets, instead offering commentary about sexism and sexual identities to divert attention from the internet sleuths’ discovery. By trying to hide their industry connections and their “feminism” boiling down to being angry that their boyfriends are a bit rubbish, it belittles the genuine efforts made by bands who are pushing to change the subculture and real feminist movements. Their corporate woke attitude ultimately renders the three women of Tramp Stamps as nothing more than a poor caricature of feminist punks, ultimately leading them to be the butt of an internet joke.
Tramp Stamps (Image Source: Twitter @trampstamps)
One of the primary criticisms directed towards the band is their blatant attempt to hop on a bandwagon. Their sudden transition into the genre differs from the likes of Machine Gun Kelly, as rappers who are successfully experimenting with the sound have always been clear about their interest in the alternative subculture. Whether collaborating, touring with bands, or working with artists behind the scenes, there’s still a visible path from A to B. Not to mention, their involvement has helped get the wagon moving at speed. Instead, multiple pop punk forums have noted that Tramp Stamps seem like the girls who bullied the alternative kids at school but have adopted the look and sound now it is popular.
The whole situation is reminiscent of the emo vs scene kid rivalry of the 2000s. When emo culture and alternative music was reaching its peak popularity in the Myspace age, scene kids were accused of ripping off the emo style, embracing the fashion without any real interest in the music. It’s likely scene kids did enjoy the music, at least to some degree. But for a subculture who were routinely mocked and vilified—even by the British press—tensions heightened as those who appeared to be inauthentic clung onto the movement’s style, albeit in brighter colours.
For music lovers, their favourite genres often become an extension of their very selves: a defining part of their lifestyle. This is especially true for fans of rock music and its subgenres. I believe this emotional tie is down to fans usually having to sacrifice some social credit to fully embrace their favourite records. Alt rock has historically been ridiculed for being uncool, weird, whiney, or self-indulgent. As popular as pop punk might be right now, legitimately enjoying it still carries a stigma. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve felt obliged to apologise for my taste in music over the years. There’s a persisting trend of mocking pop punk/emo bands who had a degree of mainstream success in the Noughties. People—now in their 30s—still crack jokes about how uncool or infantile it is to like artists such as Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, or Good Charlotte, despite their enduring success and influence on the alternative scene (my theory is that this is a resentful knee-jerk carried from high school days when girls were suddenly more interested in guys with long fringes singing about feelings than schoolboys with their indie mix CDs 👀 ). Even the viral “Mom, it was never a phase” meme which rocketed ‘Dear Maria’ back into the charts feels kind of derogatory; a tongue in cheek nod that the listener knows they really should have “grown out of it”. This peculiar disdain for pop punk consequently means fans of the genre are protective of it and incredibly suspicious of newcomers.
I believe this is Tramp Stamps’ biggest stumbling block. Their self-reinvention has been an insincere move to capitalise on a trend. Their efforts to present themselves as self-start feminists in the industry implies that their image as DIY performers matters to them, therefore legitimising the scrutiny their musical backgrounds and socio-political beliefs have since come under. While the harsh harassment of the band members is unjustifiable, the root of the rage directed towards the band is clear. As YouTuber Anthony Fantano argues, they’ve tried to infiltrate a subculture where authenticity matters.
Where does pop punk go from here? Thanks to the heady mix of nostalgia, the influx of new music by existing bands, and the genre’s popularity on TikTok, it looks like it’s on the up. Pop punk veterans are still turning out great new albums and experimenting with different sounds while new acts are pushing the subculture’s boundaries. The community’s core values remain the same, celebrating authenticity through a deep connection to music and sincerity. While this means there’s still an element of gatekeeping, it also suggests the subculture is willing to practice what it preaches and provide a safe, welcoming community for artists and fans which will shake the foundations of society by standing together. It’s by no means perfect, but it’s that scrappy, ragtag feel that has helped pop punk to evolve and endure over the years, opening up a more hopeful door for the future.