Often on F&G, we discuss emo and pop punk as a thing of the past, something we’ve grown out of, a guilty pleasure of sorts. And that may be true when we’re exploring our deep-seated, bittersweet love of Allister’s debut album or Gerard Way’s red eyeliner circa Three Cheers era. However, this week we are taking a deep dive into a record that resonates with us to this day, perhaps the crown jewel of late-‘90s midwestern emo, an album that still brings a tear to our eye and makes us want to scribble its lyrics onto our Chuck Taylors. This week, we’re talking about motherf-ing Braid and their classic 1998 ode to introspection and heartbreak, Frame and Canvas. Did Cameron listen to this album on a loop during his last breakup? Does Jill’s mom dance around to “The New Nathan Detroits” in the kitchen for reasons we have yet to ascertain? We can neither confirm nor deny these allegations, but suffice to say that our love for Braid has never waned and we’re excited for you to take this journey with us.