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Top 10 Ten Years Strong


A lot of life has happened in the past ten years. Just think about everything that has consumed the world since 2005–graduations, weddings, the rise of the smartphone, and an entire language understood only by twelve year olds (**insert fourteen emoticons to thank Instagram here**). But while we were bragging about the convenience of our TiVo and trying to unravel the impossibly complicated plotline of Lost, a handful of bands were spending their decade or so kicking ass and taking names in the pursuit of the best day job around: Touring Musician. These bands have spent the years creating memories to last a lifetime, and we’ve been forming our own right alongside them. From screaming out their lyrics in our bedrooms, to snapping digitalized pictures of their concerts on our LG Banter’s, to watching them evolve into the bands they are today, we each have our own personal connection to our favorite ten year strong bands. Today, the idobi staff has come together to reminisce about each of ours. Read our stories below!

A DAY TO REMEMBER  //  est. 2003 // BY EMILY YEE

For me, A Day To Remember has been the band that brings back waves of nostalgia, washing over me. I remember back in my own dreaded emo phase (“it’s not just a phase, Mom!”), listening to Homesick for the first time shortly after it was released. One of my friends actually introduced me to the band and I remember her putting the CD into the stereo while we were in her kitchen, lazily heating up tortillas for quesadillas and stirring chocolate milk (which is still a quality meal for me even today). I listen to it now and chills still run down my spine when I hear their dramatic melodic ballads, I still bob my head along unconsciously to their infectious rhythms as I recall my own teenage angst back when it first came out, and I can almost feel the crunch of burnt cheese between my teeth as I’m transported to the past.

ADTR has created a rapport with the fans that can be rare, with little inside jokes in the form of symbols such as the number 44 to… black crows and golden eagles? On a grander scale, A Day To Remember created a festival branded just for the scene, aptly dubbed the Self Help Fest that happens every spring. It goes to show just how much they’ve contributed to the pop-punk/hardcore genre by promoting both the well-known household bands you know and love, and smaller bands you’ll soon discover. It’s been one hell of a ride with A Day To Remember, and we’ve watched them grow from their debut record released ten years ago, to who they are now. The thing is, I’ve realized that you grow with the band too, and I can’t wait to see where they’ll bring us in the next ten years.


ALL TIME LOW //  est. 2003 // BY SAM DEVOTTA

I like to think that I’d be good friends with All Time Low, given the chance. I could fangirl over Harry Potter with Alex, debate the finer points of The Nightmare Before Christmas with Jack, hang out in a Starbucks with Rian, and watch Zack workout while lamenting my own laziness. One of the first things I noticed when I started listening to All Time Low nearly ten years ago was how relatable the guys seem. Sure, they’re way more famous than I’ll ever be, but they have a down-to-earth quality that makes them seem more like friends and less like kings of the pop-punk scene. It’s part of what makes seeing them live so special: the atmosphere is less “concert” and more “good friend’s house party” complete with dirty jokes and general intoxication.

Ten years after putting out The Party Scene, they continue to “blow us away with [their] sound”, consistently releasing new music and touring for the majority of the year. I see no reason why their trajectory should stop anytime soon, especially with the commercial success of Future Hearts and their cameo in the Fangirl movie throwing them further into the mainstream spotlight. And it doesn’t hurt that that they’ve always made it a point to connect with their fans, the people who helped them get to where they are now, remaining grateful for our support even when we’re yelling at them online for off-color jokes. One thing’s for sure: wherever they end up, All Time Low will never leave us kids–their fans–in the dark.




Bring Me The Horizon was my “piss off your mom” band. My parents hated the screaming, and I being a rebellious kid forced myself to love it. Count Your Blessings wasn’t even really my cup of tea, and to this day, I still don’t know much of it. But when Suicide Season was released, Bring Me became a lot more than a way to annoy my parents. I fell in love with the album. I listened to it all the time and tried to channel all my inner teenage angst into Oli’s screams. For a time, I wasn’t allowed to go to their shows so toward the end of the Suicide Season run, I snuck off to Warped Tour to see them for the first time. When Bring Me finally graced the stage, I spent the whole set with an enthusiastic Oli Sykes in front of me, giving me thumbs up. Hearing an entire crowd commanded in a single scream of “we will never sleep” from Oli as the opening for “Diamonds Aren’t Forever” rang out changed my life. It was a moment that can only be rivaled by things like going to Disneyland, or meeting a long-lost sibling. As they’ve progressed and changed with me as a person, they’ve become my metaphorical best friend and counsel. Their music may not be the same, but the messages still speak to me. A decade long friendship is a pretty good start to any life filled with trials and tribulations, I just happened to have found the best friend out there.




Consider yourself fortunate if you were around long enough to witness the trajectory of Cartel’s career. This band, a Conyers, Georgia four-piece that recently celebrated the ten-year anniversary of their debut record Chroma, contributed greatly to the recognition of alternative rock music within the mainstream industry.

Aside from the excitement that consumed all of us when we heard “Say Anything (Else)” in the soundtrack for the movie John Tucker Must Die, Cartel also carries the ability to please a live audience. Having toured with fellow old-timers such as New Found Glory, Cobra Starship, and Boys Like Girls, Cartel manages to set themselves apart from the rest by continuously diversifying their shows.

I vividly recall a familiar feeling setting in as soon as I gave their most recent record, Collider, a spin in 2013. It was a homage to that debut from 2005. The catchy hooks and killer melodies were all familiar and their music, once again, felt like home. There is an unbreakable link between each and every one of their records that listeners seem to connect with naturally. I decided to catch them during the Glamour Kills Tour with Mayday Parade that fall. Their music and energy translated so well live that I remember wanting for the set to last forever.

Two years later, I share a similar opinion in regards to their entire career. I’d like for them to be around for a much longer time — hopefully continuing their streak of killer full-length records whose titles all start with the letter C.




Cobra Starship was the band I wasn’t supposed to like, let alone fall in love with. I played in metal bands when I was in high school and pop music wasn’t something that metal heads listened to. You could say that I arrived late to the party with Cobra Starship, the first album I picked up of theirs was ¡Viva la Cobra!, and it quickly became part of the CD rotation in my car, but only when I was by myself. Cobra Starship quickly became my guilty pleasure band. I didn’t want to admit that I was dancing in my car at red lights to pop music, but I was. In fact, Cobra was the reason I went to Warped Tour in 2008. My best friend and I had procured backstage passes for our date and it was our goal to meet all the bands that we could. Once we were allowed back to where the buses were parked, we couldn’t find any band members out walking around, so we were debating on what to do. We decided to slowly walk back towards the entrance to the venue, still hoping we’d catch someone outside. That’s when we spotted a pair of bright purple, skintight jeans hanging on the side mirror of a bus. I instantly knew that those belonged to Gabe Saporta. We decided to go and take pictures standing next to the jeans since we hadn’t met anyone yet. As soon as we got to the bus and started taking a couple of pictures, Gabe himself walked out of the bus. Not only was he not weirded out that two guys were attempting to take pictures with a pair of his pants, he jumped in the pictures with us and chatted with us for a decent amount of time. That alone made the trip to Warped Tour that year worth it.

Sadly, since ¡Viva la Cobra ¡, there hasn’t been a Cobra Starship album that I’ve fallen in love with. Bands grow and change, but there will always be a part of me that wishes they kept churning out fantastic pop music, with a little edge thrown in. I don’t care about my guilty pleasure for the old Cobra Starship, and I never will.




Enter Shikari are from my neck of the woods, so when they sprang onto the scene I struck up an immediate kinship with them. I was in the British equivalent of middle school, and my friend and I spent many a history class singing along to Enter Shikari’s debut album Take To The Skies, much to the chagrin of our teacher. Being young girls we couldn’t quite emulate the throaty screams of Rou Reynolds on songs like “OK, Time For Plan B” so we’d sing the words in overly dramatic, operatic tones instead (are you starting to see why our teacher got annoyed?). They appealed very much to our tween selves at the time–they sang fun songs about quasar (that’s laser tag to you) and sex ed videos, held mosh pits in Chris’s living room, and made stupid YouTube videos, including one sparkling cover of No Doubt’s “Don’t Speak”. But they also wrote songs like “Adieu” which promised deeper meanings, and proved they were like having four cool older brothers–they were completely ridiculous but we still wanted to hang out with them, knowing they always had our back. Their music has matured over the years, growing up alongside their fans, and they have become one of the most energetic, critically acclaimed English bands around. This means that the past decade with them has provided a full and rich back-catalog of songs, genres, and styles to suit every mood. No matter what they decide to do as a band, they will always hold a dear place in my heart, and I still smile every time I see a box of Cheerios.




I don’t remember the precise moment I heard Mayday Parade for the first time, but I’m pretty sure the first song I heard was “When I Get Home You’re So Dead” and it was probably on MySpace…on an old school desktop before flat screens even existed. Though the track pulled me in, it wasn’t until I heard “Three Cheers For Five Years” that it all really began to sink in. This wasn’t just a band creating songs about forlorn love to sell records, this was different. It made me feel something because it was real, and the desperation in not only the vocals but lyrics themselves was near tangible. Almost 10 years and five studio albums later, the Florida five piece still manage to take the vulnerable human state and turn it into songs listeners cling to–almost as if they’re searching for something deeper and finding it in the honest music that can consistently be found in Mayday Parade.




My first Panic! concert experience was long awaited. Throughout middle and high school the band was my refuge. As any emo kid, when I had a bad day at school or someone broke up with me, I immediately retreated into watching Live in Denver on repeat. I had Ryan’s words about Chuck Palahniuk novels memorized and had heard Jon make the joke about Chamillionaire’s “Ryden” a million times while procrastinating homework. My mom wouldn’t let me out for concerts, so I had endless daydreams about singing to “Time to Dance” along with a crowd that felt as alive within the band’s music as I did. The summer after my freshman year of college, Panic! finally came to my city and I was nothing less than euphoric. Screaming along with a sold out crowd to every single word, I knew it was worth pulling through all the hard times I had in life and losing my voice that night. It wasn’t the line up I dreamed about seeing years before, but there was still nothing disappointing in the performance. Panic! is still so great because through all of the changes they have gone through, they are still the lively, dramatic, statement making band they were when they released AFYCSO. They have never lost the power to make us feel alive, and with new singles like “Victorious”, I don’t think they are going to any time soon.




With hit after alt rock hit, most people will recognise the name Paramore. Although the band initially formed in 2004, their debut album All We Know Is Falling celebrates its 10th anniversary this year. While I’m sure most people stumbled upon Paramore during the reign of emo-rock, (think Fall Out Boy, Panic! at The Disco, My Chemical Romance, and all the eyeliner that went along with them) I discovered my first Paramore song during my blissfully ignorant Radio Disney phase. Somewhere between the auto-tuned child star tracks,”That’s What You Get” came through my mom’s car speakers and I began my journey into a fantastic music scene. Paramore was the catalyst that rocket launched me into the head banging beats of alternative rock. Over the years I escaped the grip of Disney Channel and bought my first full Paramore album. Riot was a staple for my adolescent years, just as much as their self titled has become a staple of my current spotify queue. Over the course of four full length albums, Paramore’s sound has evolved alongside the fans that grew up following their music. Even though their older music hasn’t been my go-to for a while, I can still reach back and enjoy All We Know Is Falling ten years later, and I’m sure that we’ll all be able to do the same with their newer music ten years into the future.




I will never forget where I was when I first heard The Wonder Years. I was entering the second semester of my senior year of high school and saw someone tweet the lyrics, “I’m not sad anymore, I’m just tired of this place”. In my angsty, teen aggression I related to this statement more than I probably wanted to admit at the time. From then, I was hooked. There is nothing quite like a band that you grow up with. As the tone on their albums changed, I changed too. While I no longer find myself feeling tired of this place, I find myself relating to the bigger topics they approach in their later songs. For the ten years The Wonder Years have been a band, they have done nothing but conquer and dominate everything they have pursued. They not only embody the culture they helped craft, they also embody every single person who has ever examined themselves a little more complexly than their neighbor. The Wonder Years’ music has a longevity and an importance that cannot be matched. It is not surprising they are still powerful in their 10th year, what is surprising is that they have only been around that long; it seems like they have always been.

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