Among many other fads — or stereotypes, depending on who you ask — almost anyone can come to a consensus on what mental image the term "emo" warrants. The prevailing image, of course, is that of a darkly, tightly clad youth sporting choppy bangs, the logo of their favorite band on Hot Topic's T-shirt roster, and an overall despondent and rude attitude. While it's possible for a label like this to redefine itself in time, the truth is that this image strikes no resemblance to the traditional "emo" definition. In reality, "emo" began as a jab towards emotional music from music critics, and slowly began devolving, with the exception of some very significant high points, into its current embodiment of death, broken hearts, and salon-quality haircuts.

Surprisingly enough, the word now associated with a frigid disposition first emerged amid the blistering heat of Washington D.C.'s Revolution Summer. The Revolution Summer saw a shift in tone in Washington's previously violent and insurgent hardcore-punk scene. During this time the violence and bravado in bands like Minor Threat fell through in favor of a style more lyrically introspective and visceral in expression.

Several bands emerged with this new sound, including the acidic, anarchistic Moss Icon, and Embrace, a project lead by Ian Mackaye of Minor Threat in a triumphant attempt to tap into something more expressive than his earlier work, but the "first emo band" award has always gone to Rites of Spring. Regardless of whether or not they were the first band to come out of Revolution Summer, Rites of Spring made the difference in tone apparent to any listener. While still rough and speedily-paced like the hardcore-punk before them, what truly set Rites of Spring apart from the pre-Revolution groups was in the vulnerability in Guy Piccioto's vocal delivery. Rather than shouting the words to each song, Piccioto would allow himself to tire, gasp, and loose his composure, adding a fervent friction to his performance, and encouraging emotion in other hardcore bands.

It was in response to Revolution Summer's pioneering groups that the terms "emo" and "post-hardcore" first emerged, though they didn't come positively. Punk music critics like Thrasher magazine — You recall the name from your best friend's sweatshirt, I'm sure- didn't take kindly to this less aggressive sound, and coined the term "emotive hardcore" in an attempt to sissify bands like Embrace and Rites of Spring. What other sources assume is that the aforementioned groups adopted the term "emo" in attempt to rebel against critics, but this is a ridiculous misconception. Piccioto and Mackaye, now figureheads of the genre, actively rejected the label. Funny how the term is now usually self-assigned by the bands claiming to embody the genre, isn't it?

Despite the attempts of the first "emo" bands to denounce the term as a label for their genre, the name still stuck going into the 90's, which saw a further evolution of the genre once closely associated with hardcore-punk. The first emo anomaly came from a group of preteens called Cap'n Jazz. Their 1998 compilation record "Analphabetapolothology" proved that "emo" could be much more active and fun than the sound their Washington predecessors had established, containing a rough cover of A-ha's "Take on Me" and their melodic anthem "Oh Messy Life." The most important contribution Cap'n Jazz made to the genre came, however, when they broke up, with drummer Mike Kinsella forming American Football, a band responsible for combining the Cap'n Jazz's sound with math-rock to create the sub-genre, "Midwest emo," and guitarist Davey von Bohlen forming The Promise Ring, a band that incorporated elements of pop-punk into traditional "emo."

All of these new "emo" bands indisputably gave the genre more depth and diversity, but none revolutionized the genre quite like Seattle-based Sunny Day Real Estate. With the release of their 1994 classic "Diary," Sunny Day Real Estate brought a sense of maturity, refinement, and sobriety to the genre, while still retaining a strained sense of urgency that the "emo" had established early on. The fast, punk tempos of bands like Rites of Spring was replaced with more fluid, somber tracks, perfectly accompanying singer Jeremy Enigk's signature drawn-out, ruminating delivery. With this new dynamic in mid, "In Circles" is arguably the first track distinguishable by any listener as "emo," driven by a melodic baseline, twinkling-yet-distorted guitars, and woeful lyrics like, "I dream to heal your wounds, but I bleed myself," before exploding into a post-hardcore, screamed chorus. This new aesthetic, reinforced by the contemplative "Song About an Angel" and gut-wrenching, primal chorus of "48," Enigk and company became the new faces of the genre, influencing newer bands well into the turn of the century.

The legacy of Sunny Day Real Estate brought the "emo" genre incredibly close the mainstream music, with Mineral serving as a bridge between the aesthetic of Sunny Day Real Estate and the whiney, juvenile sound of Taking Back Sunday, a band responsible for bringing the genre into the spotlight of MTV and public radio stations while straying significantly from the common qualities of "emo." The post-hardcore outfit, Thursday, brought screaming and introspective subject matter to the East Coast and, yet again, more accessible to the average listener, and Jimmy Eat World finally broke the surface with their 1999 pop-punk effort, "Clarity."

One can argue that "emo" died with the emergence of these bands, and just as easily argue that it simply redefined itself, but one thing is clear, Taking Back Sunday and Jimmy Eat World sounded nothing like Sunny Day Real Estate, and Sunny Day Real Estate was far different than the now-nonexistent Rites of Spring. The genre was changing drastically, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

These bands were all vaguely similar in sound, but the 2000's had no immediate Sunny Day Real Estate to set the stage for the new incarnation of "emo"-that is, until 2003, when an album by the name "Deja Entendu" swept across the radio, concert venues, and record stores alike. The sophomore album of the Long Island band, Brand New incorporated heavy influences from pop-punk, current "emo" commonalities, and "Diary's" rich lyricism. Brand New not only brought all of these styles together, but improved upon them, with lyrics ranging from somber and confessional to egocentric and boastful while delivering them in a quiet, vulnerable manner similar to Jeremy Enigk, or raw screams harkening to the first incarnation of post-hardcore. "Deja" was a blessing in this sense, but a curse on account of its influence. Left misty-eyed by the album's tragic closer, "Play Crack the Sky," other bands were urged to write broken-hearted, acoustic ballads, though each new take on the song became indistinguishable from the last one.

The following year, the genre was contorted even further by the release of My Chemical Romance's "Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge." While their debut record, produced by Thursday's singer, Jeff Rickly, and featuring songs like "Honey This Mirror Isn't Big Enough For the Two of Us," and "This is the Best Day Ever," bearing uncanny similarities to Rites of Spring and Cap'n Jazz, respectively, was the closest the band had ventured to the "emo" genre, they only earned this label with the red-ties and raccoon eyes they sported in support of "Three Cheers." This imagery became synonymous with the genre, though the band actively fought this, actively calling the genre "pile of shit." Despite My Chem's attempts to diversify their sound, incorporating elements of stadium-rock, metal, and punk-rock into albums like "The Black Parade," their bleak imagery became a staple at malls and in the closets of moody teens, and the label redefined itself to fit the watered-down music that followed them.

It all went downhill in 2005, with the release of Fall Out Boy's "From Under the Cork Tree," an album full of diluted "emo" knock-offs that miraculously managed to make its way onto the radio and into the ears of more rebellious teens. Despite the two singles of the album, "Sugar, We're Going Down," and "Dance, Dance" blatantly ripping off Brand New's "The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows," and "Sic Transit Gloria, the biggest injustice to the genre came from their awful bassist, Pete Wentz's emphasis on clothing and hairstyles, something that turned "emo" into a fashion trend, and later, a stereotype, and taking the focus away from its rich musical history. Soon enough, Fall Out Boy encouraged record label Fueled by Ramen to sign bands like Paramore, Panic! at the Disco and Twenty One Pilots who only convoluted the genre even more.

It was during this time that the influence stopped coming from My Chemical Romance and Brand New, but the watered-down bands like Fall Out Boy who fed off of their work. This second-hand influence led to nightmarish, talentless groups like All Time Low, Hawthorne Heights and Red Jumpsuit Apparatus to gain notoriety. Strained vocals were traded out for polished whining, and confessions had given way to an endless playlist of breakup songs. This was the future of "emo," only to be ravaged beyond recognition.

That brings us back to the present, when "emo" could mean just about anything. It isn't uncommon to now hear Blink 182's "I Miss You," or Evanescence's "Bring Me to Life," mocked as "emo" songs, and bands like the scene, EDM abomination, Blood on the Dance Floor or Glam-Metal outfit Black Veil Brides as "emo" bands. The word has become interchangeable with any obnoxiously whiny genre of music, or any genre with screaming, for that matter. Though still loosely attached to some music, the term now accompanies the tightly clad, swoop-haired style of young adults making their living on Youtube, wearing the term as a badge of honor rather than rejecting it. Every pioneering band has since dissolved or faded to a point of irrelevance, so the label no longer holds its original weight.

Then what was the point in reading all of this? Why understand a three-letter word whose meaning has gone completely extinct? There's no clear lesson to this history, but such is a prevailing theme in learning about music. Everyone will argue the meaning of a rudimentary label, and claim that they only listen to the music it encompasses, but close their minds to the many types of music that defined it. Who would have thought the hardcore punk scene of Washington D.C. had anything to do with albums like "Deja Entendu?" The only reward in this type of research is finding out about obscure bands, the connection between multiple groups, and a reluctance to refer to the next blue-haired deliquent blaring Fall Out Boy from their cellphone as "emo."