FALL OUT BOY’S ‘FROM UNDER THE CORK TREE’ DEFINES A GENERATION 20 YEARS LATER

There was a brief period in the technology boom where a purgatory of sorts held space for websites like MySpace and apps like LimeWire. Families shared computers that operated on Windows XP; you would help your elder siblings write their angsty AIM away messages. Maybe I’m just projecting. Or, maybe, 2005 was indicative of a societal shift, one larger than any of us could have fathomed at the time. My first MP3 player was an impulse purchase from my dad to satisfy my iPod cravings until he gauged my responsibility levels. He got it from behind the CVS counter, and I ran home to download my elder stepsibling’s LimeWire library, full of music made by cute boys that watched us while we slept (…on posters, freaks!). I had a lot of favorites, glimmers of girlhood crushes, outrageously tall men with gorgeous long hair. Though there was one band that stood out among the rest: Fall Out Boy. Their breakthrough record, ‘From Under The Cork Tree,’ turns 20 this weekend—and I cannot imagine my life, or pop culture at large, without it.

From the first pops of paparazzi’s camera shutters to the final rung-out guitar feedback, the record displays artistry of epic proportions. This was the record that kicked Fall Out Boy’s career into high gear. They had already been gaining traction, with many of the songs articulating Pete Wentz’s struggles with the early stages of his fame. Plus, culturally, they fit like a glove; 2005 was not only the precipice of a tech boom, but of “emo” as an entity. The Chicago group unwittingly became the faces of it, smudged black eyeliner on full display as TMZ captured every triumph and heartbreak. That kind of microscope would be difficult to live under. However, Wentz’s unique form of emotional depth took a heavy toll. He’s far more human than he has ever been given credit for. It shows in a lot of his early lyrics, marked by Patrick Stump’s evocative vocal delivery. Each member of the band needed each other. Fall Out Boy stands out among their contemporaries in that the original lineup remains unchanged, all these years later.

Can you imagine “Sugar, We’re Goin Down” without Joe Trohman’s iconic distorted guitar in Drop D tuning? It was nearly unheard of at the time for a chart topper to use heavy metal techniques, yet he allowed Fall Out Boy to achieve that more than once. Or, can you imagine “Dance, Dance” without Andy Hurley’s wild, free drumming style? Both players are influenced by dark, underground metal, but their approach is vastly different. Hurley’s drums are unrestricted, raw, and full of movement as he connects with each song. Trohman’s guitar playing is a bit more structured, yet each time, it’s like he’s making the guitar sing, personifying each chord. This album specifically showcases the instrumentalists at their best. They are creatively unhinged, making daring choices that sent a shiver down record label executives’ spines. Still, it was just right, earning the approval of the likes of Jay-Z—so much that he bestowed upon them Rockafella chains…in women’s sizes, because those fit them better.

‘From Under The Cork Tree’ was no picturesque score of passing fantasy, though. Instead, it answered the calls of many, crossing generational divides because people longed to be heard. Tabloid magazines focused on celebrity relapses and relationships. Major media outlets would shove Weight Watchers down your throat. The rise of mainstream celebrity, especially in the form of reality TV stars (who later starred in Fall Out Boy’s music videos…but I digress…), established identity crises unlike anything the culture had ever experienced before. As a result, people craved an outlet that felt like a therapy session, and the band was made up of self-aware heroes, equipped with the tools to tackle the job. With the help of their “almost-famous friends,” they effectively created a record that defined not just one, but multiple generations. At its surface, it’s riddled with angst and young heartbreak. When you dig deeper, though, it’s living and breathing—humanity itself.

To this day, people are realizing how deeply intersected the web of Fall Out Boy’s world is. This record just marked the beginning of that, with Pete Wentz using his celebrity to uplift underground artists who needed a boost. He discovered some on MySpace after being heckled by band members, and some by word of mouth. Regardless, he created his scene, likely borrowing from Jay-Z’s mentorship. The voices of their aforementioned pretty-faced, long-haired mentees are laced throughout the record, little golden nuggets of inspiration for people (like me) who needed a hand to hold when there wasn’t anyone around. “Sophomore Slump Or Comeback of the Year” still gets me teary-eyed. I was fortunate enough to hear the biblically accurate version performed at BMO Stadium two years ago, and I wept for the teen girl inside me who only felt understood by this music. Watching groups of friends create things together eventually translated into my adult years, and I know I’m not alone in this. Many have since followed in Wentz’s footsteps; mentee Gabe Saporta has an entire record label to prove it.

However, Fall Out Boy has never been known for instant gratification. Instead, audiences are urged to look more deeply, creating literary analysts out of angsty teenagers. Even the songs’ titles are little winks to us, whether they are run-on sentences or niche pop-culture references. They got so good at this that the format was made memeable 20 years later. “That could be a Fall Out Boy song title” is popular among the masses, previously an inside joke between me and the 5 other people in my town who needed the record, too. ‘From Under The Cork Tree’ dared you to think and feel deeply, even when the world tried to get you to stop.

Two decades later, and Fall Out Boy’s most famous work is almost old enough to get past a bouncer at Wentz and Saporta’s Angels & Kings Hollywood bar. Which, btw, we need a revival of ASAP. Somehow, it still resonates with new audiences; many are just discovering it now, finding meaning in each clever turn of phrase. ‘From Under The Cork Tree’ is a mirror for many, especially those of us who have tried (and failed miserably) to outrun feelings that are bigger than us. It’s for those of us who never fit in until Emo Nite played these songs on full blast decades later. It’s for kids who thought they wouldn’t make it, and the adults they became who did make it because of the record. Personally, I’m a music journalist because of the ripped LimeWire version of the record I put on my MP3 player from behind the CVS counter. My salvation always seems to be “the therapists pumping through (my) speakers.” They did, in fact, deliver just what I needed.

Fall Out Boy forever.