Label Me is an education. A schoolin’. A lesson on the most interesting indie Record Labels of current and bygone days. Imagine you’re sitting across from Ricky in a dark, smoky, bar booth and he’s had a few too many to drink and there’s no stopping him now.

Words by Rick Moslen

Jimmy Eat World and Thursday are touring. The Get Up Kids and Braid are releasing albums. What better time to re-hash some “emo” jams from labels like Your Choice, Equal Vision, Vagrant, Polyvinyl, and most importantly, Jade Tree. OK, OK, don’t roll your eyes at me! Yes, I said the e-word, but I’m not talking about skinny-jean boys with long black hair, or boring girls with thirty-five Nightmare Before Christmas patches covering their backpacks. I’m not talking about shitty Hot Topic bands of the world: dreadful groups whose agents sold their superficial bitch-fests to label honchos who mass-marketed the music towards Warped tour groupies. Yeah, forget those bands.

I’m talking about non-pretentious mid- to late 90’s bands that rejected whiny lyrics for honest, personal statements ranging from the serious to the outlandish (it is true that almost every Cap ‘N Jazz’s lyric was written during the singer’s first mushroom trip). There aren’t layers of unnecessary overdubs to delve through like so many bands today—everything is straightforward, yet meaningful. Catchy, condensed songs with musical influences ranging from Washington DC punk to early jangle pop gained these bands only underground success until a few names broke out in the early 2000’s after the musical relevance was long gone.

This “emocore” (“post-hardcore” if you’re into “post” categorization) stuff didn’t appeal to me until around 2000. I guess my music taste grew hair on its balls at a young age with favorites like The Fall, Aphex Twin, Yo La Tengo, and others whose maturity and artiness challenged my naively suburban high school personality. I needed something more youthful—similar to what Husker Du provided; enter Sunny Day Real Estate, Mock Orange, Kerosene 454, Portraits of Past, Hey Mercedes, American Football, and that one Thursday album. Who knew I’d blossom into the high school kid who’d get dumped, dash to his bedroom, turned off the lights, and throw on headphones to jam some killer tunes about growing up (while maybe shedding a tear or two)—such a teen.

Now you can easily argue that the “emo” categorization only existed for those who desired its existence. Singer Ian MacKaye publically bashed the e-word way back in 1986, and yes, the term does suck—it’s too broad and doesn’t really mean anything (all music is emotional). The musical gap between “emocore” bands and artists like Fugazi, Superchunk, Jawbox, and others is minimal anyways, so why use it? “Emocore,” “post-hardcore,” “melodic punk”—who cares—they’re words used by lazy critics who sub-categorize music to more-easily write record reviews.

Underground “emo” artists did sprout an embarrassing number of acts that prompted even the Get Up Kids to later publically apologize for their influence, but that shouldn’t deter ones’ opinions of the actual good music. I presume that some folks reading may either directly dislike this sub-genre, or were once fans but have since “grown up,” but the music on Jade Tree records still speaks to me, because the bands are too good! The label’s partly responsible for releasing some of the strongest statements from hardcore, indie, and “em—,’ well, you get the point.

After a run at smaller labels throughout Washington DC, Tim Owen and Darren Walters formed Jade Tree in 1990. Their initial roster specialized in harsher acts like Gravel or Swiz, but they gained a prominent underground following after signing bands like Lifetime or Pedro the Lion while both owners were still in college. Years later Nothing Feels Good by the Promise Ring hit stores, and Jade Tree, once a distant cousin, was welcome at the same family table as labels like Touch & Go, SST, and Merge.

At the dawn of a boring decade, some of Jade Tree’s finest bands sadly left to pursue success on bigger labels and…you guessed it…ended up releasing craptastic albums. Other bands switched to fine labels like Polyvinyl, but pretty much every band arguably released their strongest material with Jade Tree. Still going strong, Owen and Walters still provide brutal yet diverse music in the form of Young Widows, Paint it Black, Fucked Up, and others. They’re starting to reissue the best of their back catalog, which prompts me to proudly note some of my favorite Jade Tree albums (in no particular order):

Cap ‘N Jazz / Analphabetapolothology

So, holy shit, if you love music, but don’t own this compilation, then…then…well you said you love music, right? When Tim Kinsella screams—you feel it in your heart—in your head—and maybe even your bowels…you heard me right…poo-enducing screams! The opening fade-in to “Little Leagues” gets my heard racing every time—like a bomb’s about to explode. And if that didn’t convince you, how about they effectively combined “anal,” “alphabet,” “apology,” and “anthology” into one word—well done gentlemen!

Cap ‘N Jazz / Little League

Jets to Brazil / Orange Rhyming Dictionary

Members of classic bands like Jawbreaker, Texas is the Reason, and a future member of Helmet all combined to form Jets to Brazil. This is a damn classic. The opening guitar line to “Chinatown” is dropped-d genius, while “Morning New Disease” is an absurd chronicle of ones’ thought process the first ten seconds of waking up. Oh, and the other songs are amazing too. (English snobs should note that there is no word, in fact, that rhymes with ‘orange.’)

Jets to Brazil / Chinatown

The Promise Ring / 30 Degrees Everywhere

Opening with the Cure-like guitar/bass synchronicity of “Everywhere in Denver,” the twelve songs on this album resemble a “Cap ‘n Jazz Goes to College” vibe (even if Davey Von Bohlen was PR’s only C n’ J member). I was in 6th grade when this album came out, and I wish I would’ve known about the Promise Ring at that time—the life lessons of middle school and early high school would’ve been so much easier to learn.

The Promise Ring / Everywhere in Denver

Lifetime / Hello Bastards

I realistically don’t know how many new Lifetime fans I’ll make in one paragraph, but here we go. Providing more human emotion than the cable network of the same name (with less middle-age female tears), Lifetime’s blasts of sentiment via catchy guitar lines and hardcore esthetics forced every critic to either employ the term “melodic hardcore” or compare them to Rites of Spring in every album review. Their other Jade Tree album (Jersey’s Best Dancers) has a better title, but the songs are sharper on this one.

Lifetime / Anchor

Joan of Arc / How Memory Works

OK, so Tim Kinsella’s in at least five really fantastic bands, but he’ll be most remembered for Joan of Arc (sorry, Owls fans). How Memory Works collects a series of pop songs with detours along the way, for any time a song feels too straightforward, the band hits you with a smack of “WTF?!” It’s like dining at a Japanese restaurant, and suddenly the waitress brings out a Wendy’s Baconator for your entrée. You’ll eat it, because, don’t be ridiculous—it’s a delicious Baconator, but why the hell is it there? Expect electronic blips and bleeps, acoustic guitar jams, and math rock-like time signatures that sweetly make no sense.

Joan of Arc / This Life Cumulative

The Promise Ring / Nothing Feels Good

It’s probably the most popular “emo” release of all-time (Jimmy Eat World’s Billboard Top 10 releases don’t count…they just don’t). “Red & Blue Jeans,” is one of the single greatest relationship songs ever; “Nothing Feels Good” perfectly depicts the dread I felt the day after graduating college; and so many other special moments accentuate the album’s 35 minutes. Unfortunately The Promise Ring started shitting the bed after this album (granted, “Very Emergency” is a decent song), but that doesn’t make Nothing Feels Good any less unfuckable.

The Promise Ring / Nothing Feels Good

Pedro the Lion / Achilles Heel

Here are Dave Bazan’s best songs—which is says a lot, because the man can write a good tune. This was the final Pedro the Lion full-length, and its songwriting highlights the diversity of releases on Jade Tree. The commentary in “Foregone Conclusions” alone is so candid that whether you agree with Bazan (a Christian with an alcohol problem) or not, finding the lyrics online and reading along is essential.

Pedro the Lion / Foregone Conclusions

So another educational installment of Label Me in the books. Do you still hate emo? Has Ricky made you understand that not everything emotional is evil? Maybe, maybe not, huh? Either way, if you found any tunes you liked, head over to Jade Tree Records and Insound to pick ‘em up.

Filed under: Label Me, Not Blake, Jim, or Brendan