Last year, Gerard Way was struggling. His band, My Chemical Romance, had just recorded their debut record -- the operatic and emotionally dense I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love (for tiny New York City indie Eyeball Records), but they were still slogging it out in a wobbly van, getting lost (numerous times) and getting robbed (once). Then last February, My Chemical Romance went out on their first national tour, opening for the Used, and a funny thing happened.

 

"First, one major-label A&R guy came to our show," Way says. "And then two, and then three and four. All of a sudden, it was like a weird fucking fungus all over the band!" A few months later, My Chemical Romance signed a lucrative, multi-album deal with Warner Bros. "They've been very careful not to say the word emo around us," he says with a laugh.

No matter what you call it, emo ("screamo," "extremo") finally broke into the mainstream ("mainstreamo") in 2003. The passionate, close-knit community of bands that had quietly simmered during the teen-pop and rap-metal years finally reached full boil. And major labels, as well as a wide range of record buyers, took notice. After years of tireless touring and teenage-audience sing-alongs, Dashboard Confessional debuted at No. 2 on the Billboard chart this summer with their third album, A Mark, a Mission, a Brand, a Scar. Dashboard singer/songwriter Chris Carrabba appeared all over late-night talk shows and MTV, as well as on a few magazine covers (including Spin). Close at his heels were Thursday and Thrice, who also debuted high on the charts with their first major-label discs. Like-minded bands Saves the Day, Brand New, the Movielife, the Starting Line, and Vendetta Red soon followed. Were Generation Y kids starting to ditch their Britney posters and goofy grins for LiveJournals and serious scowls?

Meanwhile, major labels -- weak from piracy battles and an industry-wide sales slump -- have been desperately hooking onto any band with pop potential and a preexisting grassroots audience. So, in addition to those already mentioned, another crew of diverse, emo-ish, bands were snapped up and signed -- all to Island Records -- during 2003, including Chicago's Fall Out Boy, Nashville's Scatter the Ashes, and San Diego's Noise Ratchet. Many groups that seemingly remained independent were also part of the mainstream emo push, releasing records on quasi-indies Doghouse and Fueled By Ramen (which receive some funding from major labels) in order to garner credibility before being called up to the big leagues (see: the All-American Rejects).

For underground stalwarts like Dan Sandshaw, director of A&R and marketing at Equal Vision Records, the big money flooding the scene is problematic. "Things have gone insane," he says. "We're contacting bands that have only played one or two shows, and they've already gotten calls from Island and DreamWorks. Everyone is looking for the next Thursday. It's making our job harder; financially, we're pushed to the limit. Everyone thinks they should be rock stars now -- that certainly wasn't always the case." Equal Vision's buzz band -- Coheed and Cambria -- sold 22,635 copies of their second album in the first week of its release, and for now, they seem to be the one true indie holdout among their peers.

Brand New, a smart Long Island quartet, broke enough hearts with this year's Deja Entendu to earn some MTV airplay and a sweet contract with DreamWorks. Still, the band's singer/songwriter, Jesse Lacey, is dubious about the hype. "I think it's all gonna fall through in a year and a half, maybe sooner," he says. "This is becoming like '80s hair metal all over again. All you can really do is try hard to be one of the bands that does manage to stick."

Not surprisingly, veteran A&R man Luke Wood (who signed Brand New, as well as Jimmy Eat World and Saves the Day) has a sunnier view. "The era I like to equate this with is '88 to '90: We've got Soundgarden and the Meat Puppets, but Nirvana is about to make Bleach. Something is gonna pop soon and hopefully change the entire musical landscape. Because I don't think, as many of my peers do, that there's a ceiling of 300,000 to 500,000 kids that can appreciate these bands. We're beyond the kids who are lucky enough to find Hot Topic on the fourth floor of the mall or stumble onto Makeoutclub.com. Honestly, I don't believe emo has 'broken' yet, because to me that would mean being up there with OutKast and Beyonce -- being in every 14-year-old's iPod."

And the figures -- at least in terms of traditional measuring sticks, such as radio airplay -- tend to back Wood up. "Emo bands have a committed fan base, but it's not a core fan base yet," says Lisa Worden, program director for influential Washington, D.C., radio station WHFS. "We play Dashboard and Thursday, but we haven't reached the point where Puddle of Mudd fans are calling up requesting Brand New."

My Chemical Romance will record their major-label debut this winter, and Gerard Way has faith that they'll be able to navigate the big time. "We're all very emotional, sincere people, and we're in the water with sharks," he says. "But the sincerity the music is founded on is what protects us. If your band is founded on that instead of doing coke off hookers' tits, then you're fine. It's a matter of writing the songs that matter to you and having the kids sing along with you. That's it."