Is this bleach job too stripey?

Despite his fairly indiscriminate love for all things emo, the most beloved of all my ex-husbands left me high and dry for the Coheed & Cambria show last night, grousing, “they’re like retarded emo kids who just started smoking pot and listening to Rush,” and that it’s pretty easy to get famous when your crowd’s never heard the music you’re ripping off, and that the “incoherent big words mashed together” style of emo prog songwriting is unstomachable. This is a little unfair as I spent a lot of time in the trenches at, like, Rilo Kiley shows when we were dating (I actually like Rilo Kiley but you see my point). But whatever. The show was sold out to behoodied all-agers mugging kohl and knit caps—emo fashion is hardcore fashion and, as my pal Joe and I discussed on the phone yesterday, there is a whole faction of people whose fashion/lifestyle have not evolved one iota since medeival hardcore times ca. mid-’80s, playing out the Beckettian melodrama of vegan punk house serfdom in black stretchy pants and pleather dog collars–the uniform of those with an intimate knowledge of The Matrix–I am pretty sure most Coheed & Cambria fans aren’t those people, but that is the style they are rocking. I spent the duration in the over-21 basement, listening through the speakers like I had 2112 on the Victrola, and making new friends with MC Dron, who was there not to watch the bands–he only listens to dub reggae and ’90s hiphop, as I found—but to “step into the cypher” with the drummer from Vaux, and talk shop AKA skating at burnside. What does this mean to you? It means some kids never heard a Rush album, and that my ex’s theory on the At The Drive-In emo prog band fashion template (unwily Afros) is proving uncanny.
*and the term “step into the cypher” as a euphemism for “blazers vs. nuggets” is fairly amazing