The First Emo President?

Nearly every teenager went through their own emo phase. Unfortunately for me, that emo phase coincided with my (apparently everlasting) musical theatre phase. So instead of listening to My Chemical Romance, I listened to... emo musical songs. Yes, I wish I was joking, but that is in fact, a real genre of music. From blasting expletive-ridden Spring Awakening songs in my ears to angrily screaming along to Rent, it was an interesting era, to say the least.

I'm unearthing this deeply awkward and tragically embarrassing part of my life to tell you about a musical that defined most of my personality during this period: Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson.

If you’ve never heard of it, don’t worry, you’re not alone. This chaotic little show started off Broadway, had a brief Broadway run in 2010 and then disappeared into the cult musical ether, where it has remained ever since, living on in YouTube bootlegs and the hearts of unhinged theatre kids. It’s a rock musical satire about, wait for it (ha), the seventh president of the United States, Andrew Jackson. Yes, that Andrew Jackson.

Instead of dry historical reenactments and powdered wigs, this show reimagines Jackson as a leather-pants-wearing, eyeliner-smudged emo rockstar who pouts, screams, and emotionally manipulates his way through the early days of American democracy. The show is a chaotic mashup of pop-punk angst, American political history, and unfiltered absurdity. And it’s brilliant. It's also terrible. But you know, still brilliant?

It’s hard to explain the exact appeal of Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson without sounding slightly unhinged. On one level, it’s a satire of populism and the dangers of ego-driven leadership. On another, it’s a wild romp through a revisionist America where the Founding Fathers are whiny backup dancers and Jackson sings lyrics like “Populism, YEAH YEAH!” while literally bathing in the blood of his enemies. It takes itself both way too seriously and not seriously at all, which I guess is what makes it feel so emo.

What drew me in as a young pre-teen, beyond the angsty guitar riffs and eyeliner, was the show's commitment to questioning the myth of American greatness. Jackson is presented not as a hero, but as a deeply flawed man whose ambition and insecurity spiral into violence and oppression. He’s messy, emotionally volatile, and constantly trying to figure out if the ends justify the means. Which, to be fair, is exactly the kind of internal crisis I was going through at 12, except replace "American policy on Native land" with "should I cut my own bangs?"

The music itself is aggressively catchy and aggressively cynical. Songs like “I’m So That Guy” and “The Corrupt Bargain” play like emo anthems mixed with a civics class. And “Ten Little Indians”? Yeah, that one is... deeply uncomfortable now. And probably was then. But 12 year old me, brown, Indian, and fully unaware, sang along without realizing the horrifying historical weight of what I was belting in my bedroom. It’s kind of wild (and deeply ironic) that I was idolizing this character while ignoring the fact that, in real life, Andrew Jackson would’ve hated me and everything I stood for. I was so caught up in the eyeliner and angst that I missed the colonialism and genocide part.

In retrospect, Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson probably shouldn’t have defined my pre-teenage years as much as it did. But it also taught me something valuable about theatre: that it can be messy. It can be politically incorrect. It can be complicated and uncomfortable and make you laugh one second and feel gut-punched the next. And most importantly, it can take someone like Andrew Jackson, a man most people would rather forget, and force us to look, really look, at the consequences of unchecked power.

I don’t know if I’d recommend Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson to everyone. It’s weird, loud, problematic in places, and definitely not historically accurate. But it’s also a musical that refuses to be neat or polite. It’s a rebellious middle finger to traditional Broadway and a messy critique of American mythology disguised as a Hot Topic fever dream. And for one painfully emo theatre kid, that was all it took.

So if you ever feel like diving into a show that’s as unhinged as your middle school diary, throw on the cast album, scream “Populism, YEAH YEAH!” into the void, and embrace the chaos. I promise, it’s more fun than it should be.

PS: I made this on MS Paint in 9th grade, so please enjoy it.