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Am I the only one feeling "emo nostalgia"?

  • Writer: Lauren Winder
    Lauren Winder
  • Dec 9, 2025
  • 3 min read

A few weeks ago, my sibling Quoia (4 years younger than me) shared a playlist called "Scene Kid Throwbacks" with me. Listening to that music again, which some call "screamo", "emo", and "post-hardcore", led me down an unexpected rabbit hole.


Some of the music didn't stand the test of time for me (lol, shocking), and I relegated it back to the 'music of my teen years'. But other bands and tracks hit just as deep, and surprisingly even deeper, than when I was a teen. For context, I was born in 1990, so I really came up emo-music-wise between 2002-2009.


After listening to Quoia's playlist quite a bit, I decided to make my own, picking just one song from one band. These are the top 20 emo songs that have stood my personal test of time:




The emo music of the 2000s was defined by raw emotion, an outsider identity, and tight-knit community. Bands like the ones one my playlist above — My Chemical Romance, Paramore, Taking Back Sunday, Jimmy Eat World — sang intensely about heartbreak, alienation, and identity.


The lyrics deal with darkness and loneliness, giving voice to those of us who feel “misunderstood”. The culture has always looked at music like that as the purview of teenagers, and I think that's a reason I stopped listening to it as I got older. The anger was still there; the feelings of being misunderstood. But I gravitated towards other genres, looking to be 'seen' in other mediums.


Why emo feels suddenly relevant again


Let's be real: 2025 often feels like a nightmare. We're facing sharp political divides and a pervasive tech-driven isolation. One recent article notes, “punk is politically motivated music and as more right-wing things pop up… the counterculture will rise to meet it.”


This has direct parallels in emo: long after the 2000s, artists insist that “emo/screamo can still be a form of rebellion; it can still be political music.”


In other words, political polarization is making alternative scenes (including emo) resonate anew. Troubled by today’s politics? You might see emo’s outsider stance as a refuge, too. In fact, one could argue that the recent emo resurgence is “a function of political polarization”, driven by anger—not just of youths—and the rise of countercultural spaces.


Technology's role in emo nostalgia


At the same time, tech connects us and isolates us. A growing body of research shows social media can harm young people’s mental health. In a 2024 survey, nearly half of teens said social platforms have a “mostly negative effect” on their peers. I came of age right as MySpace was taking off, so I was shielded from this for the most part, but I can only imagine how much worse my teenage depression would've been had I been on social.


18-year-old me at Warped Tour, circa 2009
18-year-old me at Warped Tour, circa 2009

I don't even have social media anymore, actually, except my LinkedIn profile, because of the dire effects on my mental health during this last election cycle.


Thus, the emo of 2005 and the world of 2025 intersect in uncanny ways. The world that we're living in is simultaneously more connected than ever because of technology and disconnected because of, well, let's call it what it is: rising fascism around the globe.


Emo’s raw honesty about personal pain and its message of “be who you are” hits home when so many of us feel isolated behind screens or trapped in ideological bubbles.


Even as technology reshapes social life, emo’s themes of connection and authenticity offer catharsis. During the pandemic lockdowns, for example, many of us turned back to alternative music. Times of crisis (pandemic, polarized politics) revive emo’s relevance, as we find solace in its emotional honesty.


I find it fascinating: Social media and streaming amplify emo's reach, while its themes of identity, heartbreak, and rebellion match our current cultural climate. Songs that once made teens cry or rage now help new listeners, or adults like me returning to the music, navigate political angst and this persistent, shitty ennui.


Am I the only one experiencing an emo nostalgia or renaissance in my listening habits? From the gym to the car, the bridge the genre creates extends to the feeling that someone else knows, someone else sees it: This deeply human need to be authentic in a world of polish and AI generation.


Pain is real, and we can use it to drive ourselves to better states and outcomes. So turn the music up.

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© 2025 Lauren Winder

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