Emocore pioneers Rites of Spring at DC’s Food for Thought in 1985. Photograph by Bert Queiroz
It was about 30 years ago that “hardcore”—then a warning about a category of punk or pornography—began to split apart, and its ending, “-core,” became a way to assign authenticity to a host of new musical genres from rock to dance music to hip-hop. But as we discovered grindcore, thrashcore, skacore, breakcore, raggacore, crunkcore, and so on, “-core” lost its hardness—and, in its ubiquity, became a pop-culture wink.
Washington was a crucial stop on the “-core” journey. When punk first thrived here in the late 1970s, musicians like Ian MacKaye, of the bands Minor Threat and Fugazi, and his fellow Glover Park punk Henry Rollins used “hardcore” to set it apart from mainstream punk, which had gone commercial. If you were hardcore (or even harDCore), says Mark Andersen, coauthor of Dance of Days: Two Decades of Punk in the Nation’s Capital, you were “deeply committed,” to “rage-filled music” and an anti-corporate ethos.
Soon after that came DC’s own “emocore.” During the so-called Revolution Summer of 1985, local bands such as Rites of Spring sought a more vulnerable alternative to hardcore. “Lyrically, it was really introspective and poetic at times,” says Scott Crawford, director of Salad Days, a new documentary on DC’s hardcore scene.
Brian Baker of Minor Threat is often credited with dubbing the new sound “emocore” in 1985; soon thereafter, MacKaye called it “the stupidest thing I ever heard.” Nonetheless, emocore spread worldwide as a descriptor of a style of dress and even behavior. Baker’s original acerbity has been retained—as when Crawford’s kids caution him, “Dad, don’t get all emo.”
It’s the undercutting tone of “emocore” that has come forward to our moment. “Sadcore”—describing the plangent sounds of Joy Division, the film genre mumblecore, and the musical varieties Nintendocore and piratecore—affectionately tweaks its over-serious practitioners. “Normcore” and “slobcore” apply, respectively, to an art-school fashion twist on L.L. Bean jeans and to not showering.
The commercialism despised by DC’s hardcore scene has caught up to “-core,” particularly its use by inventors of expensive fitness classes. Anne Mahlum, owner of Washington’s own Solidcore, says: “ ‘Core,’ to me, means the center and the essence of something or someone.” When she devised the name, Mahlum adds, she was unaware of the word’s harDCore history.
This article appears in our April 2015 issue of Washingtonian.
"-core" Is the Suffix of Our Time
The word form that named dozens of artistic genres has deep Washington roots.
It was about 30 years ago that “hardcore”—then a warning about a category of punk or pornography—began to split apart, and its ending, “-core,” became a way to assign authenticity to a host of new musical genres from rock to dance music to hip-hop. But as we discovered grindcore, thrashcore, skacore, breakcore, raggacore, crunkcore, and so on, “-core” lost its hardness—and, in its ubiquity, became a pop-culture wink.
Washington was a crucial stop on the “-core” journey. When punk first thrived here in the late 1970s, musicians like Ian MacKaye, of the bands Minor Threat and Fugazi, and his fellow Glover Park punk Henry Rollins used “hardcore” to set it apart from mainstream punk, which had gone commercial. If you were hardcore (or even harDCore), says Mark Andersen, coauthor of Dance of Days: Two Decades of Punk in the Nation’s Capital, you were “deeply committed,” to “rage-filled music” and an anti-corporate ethos.
Soon after that came DC’s own “emocore.” During the so-called Revolution Summer of 1985, local bands such as Rites of Spring sought a more vulnerable alternative to hardcore. “Lyrically, it was really introspective and poetic at times,” says Scott Crawford, director of Salad Days, a new documentary on DC’s hardcore scene.
Brian Baker of Minor Threat is often credited with dubbing the new sound “emocore” in 1985; soon thereafter, MacKaye called it “the stupidest thing I ever heard.” Nonetheless, emocore spread worldwide as a descriptor of a style of dress and even behavior. Baker’s original acerbity has been retained—as when Crawford’s kids caution him, “Dad, don’t get all emo.”
It’s the undercutting tone of “emocore” that has come forward to our moment. “Sadcore”—describing the plangent sounds of Joy Division, the film genre mumblecore, and the musical varieties Nintendocore and piratecore—affectionately tweaks its over-serious practitioners. “Normcore” and “slobcore” apply, respectively, to an art-school fashion twist on L.L. Bean jeans and to not showering.
The commercialism despised by DC’s hardcore scene has caught up to “-core,” particularly its use by inventors of expensive fitness classes. Anne Mahlum, owner of Washington’s own Solidcore, says: “ ‘Core,’ to me, means the center and the essence of something or someone.” When she devised the name, Mahlum adds, she was unaware of the word’s harDCore history.
This article appears in our April 2015 issue of Washingtonian.
Britt Peterson is a contributing editor for Washingtonian.
Most Popular in News & Politics
What It Felt Like for a Virginia Marching Band to Win Metallica’s Contest
What’s IN and OUT in DC Restaurant Trends for 2024
Introducing 8 of DC’s Most Stylish
Best of Washington 2023: Things to Eat, Drink, Do, and Know Right Now
Washingtonian Magazine
May 2024: Great Getaways
View IssueSubscribe
Follow Us on Social
Follow Us on Social
Related
13 Major Concerts and Music Festivals in the DC Area This Spring
Mary Timony on Her Emotional New Album, “Untame the Tiger”
The Beatles in DC: A New Exhibit in Maryland Looks Back on Early Beatlemania
Northern Virginia High School Wins Metallica’s Marching Band Competition
More from News & Politics
The Local Girls Who Inspired the Hollywood Classic “Mean Girls”
These Volunteers Wake Up at Dawn to Collect DC’s Dead—and Injured—Birds
Guest List: 5 People We’d Love to Hang Out With This May
Democrats and Republicans Pass Balls, Not Bills, at Congressional Soccer Game
3 New Memoirs by Prominent Women
Everything You Wanted to Know About Urban Bear Sightings but Were Afraid to Ask, Because Who Wants to Get That Close to a Bear?
Rockville Police Are Searching for Culprits of a $4,500 Pickleball Paddle Heist
Dozens of Vintage Planes Will Fly Over the National Mall This Saturday