(Note: This column is in no way related to the hilarious comedian, Emo Philips. That particular Emo is a cool cat in my book…weird, but cool nonetheless!)

That’s it! I officially give up on trying to understand all of these hip, young trends that keep popping up left and right. I used to consider myself quite the smooth operator, always keen to the latest jive lingo, but I think this time it’s simply a lost cause – this old man has passed his prime! There was a blip not so long ago when, to say the very least, I could translate what was coming out of these kids’ mouths, but they’ve lost me and the odd thing about it is that I’m really ok with it, honest…

I’ve noticed that the younger generations have a funny tendency to rename things in their everyday life – things that actually already have quite fine names, but in order for them to remain cool and hip, apparently something’s gotten give. Our currency – cash, dollars, change – becomes the bling bling. The expression of coolness is now regarded as being uber (pronunciation hint: rhymes with goober). But the one that throws me the most is a newfound musical term that I’ve been hearing tossed around way too much lately and that word is the infamous “emo.”

Now from what I have been able to gather, the term emo is somehow in reference to particular stylings of music, but you’ve lost me after that! Based on what I’ve deduced from both the radio and the CD collection of my younger sister, it appears that this “emo” music is nothing more than the alternative rock handed down from my own generation! Of course, before us, it was collectively referred to as simply punk, but that was back in a time when black, brown, and bleached-blonde…not pink, were the only hair-colorings choices for up and coming musicians and both twit and crap were still considered curse words. We renamed the movement to alternative when punk split off and did its own little thing…whatever the hell that was…and everyone was happy!

Ok, so technically everyone in the alternative movement was supposed to be severely depressed, with some on the verge of suicide, but frankly, when you’re raking in that kind of money, I’ve got a feeling that it must’ve been hard not to crack even a little smile at the end of the day! Dirty flannel shirts and beat up guitars aside, they certainly weren’t doing too bad for a group of young and troubled musicians whose most difficult tasks were no doubt deciding between Cool Ranch and Nacho Cheese Doritos for the after-party, along with which of the thirty hottest chicks at their concert would be given backstage-treatment, if you know what I mean… Granted, I find it hard to sympathy for anybody who makes a seven-figure income and has members of the opposite sex lined up around the block, just hoping for a peek into their life, but that’s just me…

So anyways, what exactly is my beef with this whole thing they call emo? Well, of course, I do have a certain sense of bitterness for the following generation’s having enough gall to rename something which was actually quite fine to begin with, but that’s really only a very minute part of my problem. The real source of my frustration lies within the influence that this music has upon our youth, and for those of you who continue to make the claim that people still think for themselves, you can’t blame it on the music, well just take a look around the next time you’re in the local mall – apparently all of these teenagers just happen to be thinking for themselves along the same lines, dressing up as either the skanky pop singer or the angry-at-the-world goth freak or the irreversibly-frustrated student, eh? Not that I don’t get a good chuckle at the show during my frequent visits to Bed, Bath & Beyond for those herbal facial wraps, but if I see one more uberly-depressed kid walking around that place, mumbling about how horrible his life is, I’m going to sit him or her down and dish out the unabridged version of when I was your age…

First of all, let me explain something to all of you emo-fans out there once and for all – life doesn’t even begin to suck until you’ve graduated from high school! Sure, you may think it’s bad when you’ve got six hours of homework to look forward to when you get home, after you put in your time at work and play rugby or whatnot, but guess what? We all did it, and many of us had it even worse yet! Personally, my family was big into the whole coal-mining scene, so I used to get a work-release from school three hours early, which allowed me a good nine hours down in the mines before the second shift finished up. After that, I returned home to prepare dinner for seven before finally settling in with my homework – if I was lucky, I could score fifteen or twenty minutes of sleep before heading down to the bus stop and starting it all over again…so don’t tell me you’ve got it tough!

Ok, so maybe I exaggerate just a bit, but you do have to admit that all of the moping around is getting a little carried away. I truly believe that if the major radio stations and MTV were to start pumping out some more motivational and light-hearted tunes, then what we’d have on our hands would be a generation who loves school, respects their elders, and even cleans up around the house once in a while! And because that’s just the kind of guy that I am, I’d be more than happy to loan out a few selections from my own private collection to get the ball rolling…Jimmy Buffett and the Coral Reefer Band, Stevie Wonder and the First Cousins of Funk, Britney Spears…wait a minute, how’d that get in there?! Oh that’s right, nevermind…

…but if nothing else, just look on the bright side, kids! You may tirelessly mock the crap that I listen to now, but it won’t be long until you’re listening to it, too – I’m not that much older than you! Eventually they’ll rename your music, too, and you’ll find yourself listening to has-been pop stars and retired rock bands, and only then can the depression truly begin…