“The members of My Chemical Romance surrounded themselves with a crowd of misfits and blessed their followers with the gift of self-confidence. For me, all it took was a trip to Target and the purchase of 2006’s The Black Parade to blossom into the hidden oddball I had concealed within me for so long.” — Zoë diGiorgio
It’s a strange thing to admit. When I started college, it became a self-deprecating joke: I was a My Chemical Romance fan.
That’s synonymous with saying, “I was an angsty teen,” something no college student wants to own up to. I have been coming to grips with my former melodramatic self and love for My Chemical Romance as I say farewell to the band that helped me fearlessly face the uncertainties of growing up.
My Chemical Romance’s last album, greatest hits collection May Death Never Stop You, comes out today, attended by little fanfare. It makes sense the release would be a quiet affair, given that the band announced its split roughly a year ago. But rather than a happy ending for the death-obsessed rockers, a pervasive air of bitterness surrounds the split.
This is not the end I expected for a band that laughed at death in the face.
I first turned to the band for guidance in middle school, preparing for the inevitable plunge into high school. I fell in love with the catchy hooks, dramatic stories, cinematic music videos and approachable edginess of men wearing eyeliner.
More than latching on to the band’s lyrics about death, though, I took its fearless weirdness in the face of normalcy to heart. The members of My Chemical Romance surrounded themselves with a crowd of misfits and blessed their followers with the gift of self-confidence. For me, all it took was a trip to Target and the purchase of 2006’s The Black Parade to blossom into the hidden oddball I had concealed within me for so long.
I listened to my My Chemical Romance CDs religiously for about a year, but when I started high school, my passion cooled. The band took a break to settle down and start families. I settled back into being normal for a while.
Near the end of my stint in high school, the band announced a new album, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys. Though I was reluctant to relapse, I somehow found myself fawning over another of the band’s albums. With Danger Days, all the passionate energy of the previous albums transformed into a series of fiercely energetic dance numbers.
Once again, the band came into my life at a period of great change. Among college applications, ex-boyfriends and bullies, the band provided the soundtrack to my senior year with songs that gave me comfort and strength when I needed them most.
And just like that, My Chemical Romance faded again at the end of the summer when I moved into a dorm, trading out my old iTunes account for new Spotify playlists and my high school woes for adulthood adventures. But my inner oddball never went away.
To this day, My Chemical Romance has the power to tame my wildest emotions. I take courage from the familiar songs telling me I can take on the world alone. Though My Chemical Romance will forever be associated with its largely teenage fan base, the band’s biggest accomplishment is tapping into universal human emotions and experiences. Grief, triumph, fear and loneliness are with me at 21, just as they were when I was 13.
I’ve made a point of hiding my past fandom of My Chemical Romance several times, but as I look back at the rockier periods of growing up, the band helped me face the challenges along the way. Though the band went out with a whimper rather than the fabulous bang it promised, I can confidently say I will always be a My Chemical Romance fan.
