In 2016, Rolling Stone observed that “punk rock began as a kind of negation — a call to stark, brutal simplicity.” The magazine was referring to the frenetic, raw sound developed by the Ramones in the late 1970s: loud guitars converging with anti-authoritarian and anti-establishment lyrics. Over the following two decades, the movement splintered into dozens of subgroups, including hardcore, riot grrrl, and post‑punk. Without getting too caught up in the definition of the genre, Matt Bobkin and Adam Feibel consider yet another offshoot — pop punk — with In Too Deep: When Canadian Punks Took Over the World.
Bobkin and Feibel look at nine angsty acts, including chart-topping Sum 41 and business-savvy Simple Plan, and their palatability to mainstream audiences. “You could be popular in Canada or outside of Canada,” they write of industry assumptions, “but rarely both.” Bobkin and Feibel also profile seven other artists who defied the odds and made it. The authors offer familiar yet surprising origin stories of those who went from playing “sparsely attended gigs in basements, community halls, and mom-and-pop restaurants to performing for millions of TV viewers.” They describe the genesis of each band, from humble beginnings to breakthrough, and, in many cases, their eventual push for representation south of the border.
Looking at the North American music scene around the turn of the millennium, Bobkin and Feibel immerse readers in a specific slice of the constantly evolving history of punk. By the time Alexisonfire emerged in the early 2000s, the “harder, faster, and more ferocious” noise of previous decades had transformed into a softer sound. With their more melodic, marketable songs, some garage bands were gearing up to “break through the barriers of their domestic music industry to become the face of their generation’s own counterculture.”
Avril Lavigne performs outside MuchMusic’s downtown Toronto studios in May 2004.
The Canadian Press
Another band, Gob, stood out amid the intense sound that “dominated” their local Vancouver scene with a “new strain of poppier, Ramones-influenced” rock. In the mid-’90s, they were something of a novelty, with their “ability to write a catchy song.” They became big among teens who played video games and watched MuchMusic after school — the channel “where new artists could find their audiences.” Although Gob never gained traction stateside, Bobkin and Feibel cite them as “the country’s first real answer to Green Day and the California punk scene.” The group, which still plays shows throughout Canada, cleared the way for a new wave of pop-adjacent records.
Almost everyone featured in the book had to contend with bad deals, creative clashes, negative publicity, and other challenges — including from fans. Despite the bona fide punk roots of some performers, diehards called out anyone pursuing commercial success for being an “industry plant” or, worse, “a total sellout.” In a subculture defined by the spurning of convention, it was impossible to sign deals with “corporate overlords” without catching some flak.
Readers searching for a comprehensive critique of punk culture, however, should look elsewhere. In Too Deep focuses on one important period of music and a handful of artists who moved toward pop, post-hardcore, or emo. Many of those chronicled here weren’t strictly punk, despite the book’s subtitle, and they were among the first to admit it.
Take Avril Lavigne — the most commercially successful of the bunch. The star from Napanee, Ontario, was accused by critics and fans alike of “co-opting the aesthetics of punk rock to make an easy buck.” Even at nineteen, Lavigne knew the genre was “a touchy subject.” She never claimed to be influenced by the “aggressive form of music, which is very political,” or by punk as “a way of life.” Inspired by Blink‑182 and System of a Down, she wanted to be her sulky and contrarian teenage self. Despite an early marketing plan that was “thicker than the Bible,” her rebellious nature “endeared her to the public” and her label ultimately gave her “a licence to be herself.”
Others weren’t so lucky. Fefe Dobson suffered from restrictive contracts and producers who didn’t understand her. In an interview with the authors, the singer from Scarborough, Ontario, revealed how poorly she was positioned in the market after her self-titled debut in 2003. A few years later, after Dobson was dropped for being “too rock and roll for pop, and too pop for rock and roll,” her label used songs she wrote for young Disney stars like Miley Cyrus and Selena Gomez — a telling anecdote that warrants more attention than it’s given here.
Nonetheless, those who grew up on the profiled bands will find much to enjoy in these wistful pages. Featuring conversations with musicians, glimpses into the archives, footnotes, and song recommendations, it’s a wholesome celebration of the angst that shaped a generation of listeners.
I certainly count myself among that generation. At my celebrity-themed birthday party in September 2002, almost everyone arrived dressed as Lavigne. Just three months earlier, she had released her debut record, Let Go. Even in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, we had all donned our fathers’ neckties in an attempt to recreate her signature “anti-fashion” look. While seven-year-old girls like us were hardly the intended audience for punk rock early on, In Too Deep tells the story of how we became some of the most ardent fans of the genre — or a form of it anyway.
Emily Latimer is a freelance journalist based on Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia.