The tired and irrelevant disapproval of Epitaph Records

Epitaph's Punk-O-Rama 10 relates to possibly my earliest memory of evaluating a work critically. My favorite band was NOFX, who at the time released a series of EPs as part of its 7" of the Month Club. I didn't have a record player yet, nor was I very keen on how to obtain rare songs by other means. I used the Internet very infrequently.


"There's No Fun in Fundamentalism" first appeared in April of 2005 on the third 7" in NOFX's monthly series. The following June, it was re-released on Epitaph's annual compilation, Punk-O-Rama.

I'm not old enough to personally attest to the importance of Punk-O-Rama's early compilations, but I'm familiar with their legacy. Punk-O-Rama introduced legions of impressionable listeners to the blooming world of 90s skate punk, led by bands like NOFX, Bad Religion, Pennywise, and Millencolin. The consistency with which these compilations were released carried with it a sense of predictability, a regular reminder that Epitaph was the most formidable and reassuring presence in punk rock.


Punk-O-Rama began to take a turn in 2003 with the gradual introduction of artists that no longer fit the expected punk mold. By the release of its 10th compilation, these non-punk artists had seemingly overshadowed what was left of traditional punk. The Bouncing Souls, Hot Water Music, and Pulley shared a track list with perceived scenesters From First to Last, Motion City Soundtrack, and Matchbook Romance, all recent additions to the Epitaph roster.

I liked the NOFX song, and I fell in love with a band called Tiger Army, but I felt frustration in watching something once pure devolve. Why were there not one, but two rap artists? Why did Matchbook Romance remind me of Simple Plan? Why did Converge and Some Girls sound identical?

For a writing assignment in 9th grade, I reviewed Punk-O-Rama 10, noting the obvious irony in hearing so much unwelcome diversity on what I expected to be a collection of punk music. (Coincidentally, Volume 10 was the last sequel to the Punk-O-Rama series before the label rebranded itself with the 2006 compilation Unsound, Volume 1, which contained mostly the same bands, and which never led to a Volume 2.)

Then I grew up.

I still find Punk-O-Rama 10 largely unappealing, but so are a number of compilations by labels I willingly support. Compilations no longer resemble cohesive mixed tapes; rather, they're broad samplers of a label's often diverse output.

Discovering five or six worthwhile bands on a compilation of nearly 30 represents an acceptable ratio. A seemingly small number of attention grabbers should be enough to provoke much deeper exploration, especially with useful modern tools like Spotify, iTunes, online radio, and Last FM.

Compilations are starting points where I can easily skip or delete the undesirables. Epitaph's reputation has been in constant decline for more than a decade, and it's largely because of a common refusal among punk critics to use the same filter.

Falling in Reverse. Photo by Cale.

To be clear, Epitaph has endorsed some arguably inexcusable garbage. The label released two full-lengths by cheesy hair-metal revivalists/misogynists Falling in Reverse, along with a fair amount of cookie-cutter metalcore and trendy pop rock. The label's catalogue hit a low point in 2012 with the release of Skip the Foreplay's Nightlife, the Brokencyde-inspired amalgamation of the most nauseating elements of heavy metal and electronic music.

As unlistenable as much of this is, it's not difficult to move beyond it. Since the mid-2000s, Epitaph has also released acclaimed albums by The Weakerthans, Bad Religion, Converge, Thursday, Alkaline Trio, The Menzingers, Off With Their Heads, Propagandhi, and most recently, The Lawrence Arms. Should Epitaph be defined by its five or six worst artists in spite of it having exalted some of punk rock's most well-respected acts?

In an interview for Kill Your Stereo, Chris Hannah of Propagandhi mentioned that the band's willingness to work with Epitaph was informed by a positive "consumer report" of sorts; The Weakerthans and Converge, to whom Propagandhi felt it related aesthetically, both gave reassuring accounts of their experience with the label.

Three years later, Brendan Kelly -- Lawrence Arms co-frontman and devoted Propagandhi fan -- trusted Hannah's judgment. The former Fat Wreck Chords band signed to Epitaph Records
after having completed its most recent full-length Metropole. No one at Epitaph had yet heard the record.

Chris Hannah. photo credit: Christine Lortie via photopin cc

Epitaph has the resources to properly promote its artists. And they know what they're doing. Falling in Reverse will never tour with Propagandhi, and Thursday will never co-headline with Skip the Foreplay. So many detractors come to the illogical conclusion that putting your least favorite band and your favorite band on the same label will lead to an inevitable pair-up on tour. But it hasn't happened, nor will it ever. It's false outrage.

I'm not sure why Brett Gurewitz signs some of the artists he does. Maybe the occasional trendy artist keeps his label alive, or maybe he simply has inconsistent taste. In any case, Epitaph shows that alternative music's most objectionable artists can safely cohabit with some of its best.

Epitaph is ultimately a stamp of approval, or at least it is in the eyes of its followers, but if the label is responsible for Skip the Foreplay's Nightlife, then it's responsible for Propagandhi's Failed States. I'll trade a record I'm never obligated to listen to for Propagandhi in any capacity. Wouldn't you?