While The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most was one of the albums that kickstarted my emo phase, The Swiss Army Romance is the one that cemented it. While I probably gave each of them equal play time in my Discman, Swiss Army was my clear favorite.

True, the two albums have nearly identical aesthetics, and the songwriting is of the same quality across both discs. But there’s something about the completely stripped down sonic palette of Swiss Army that makes these songs more effective than the full band treatments that would fill the track lists of later albums.

Dashboard’s main appeal was its rawness. These songs are almost too intimate to invite anyone else into, begging to be sung (or screamed) entirely on one’s own. And apart from a couple background voices, this album offers that rawness in a purer form than the project would ever attain again.

If you’re reading this, there’s a really good chance that you already know this record. Its lyrics are already etched deep into your heart. You don’t need me to describe the unusual opening tunings (DADDDD? Really?), the sheer throat-tearing singability of the choruses, or the inventive guitar parts that (at the time especially) were completely without peer (learning these songs on guitar—and I learned all of them—almost felt like learning a completely different instrument).

Even among music snobs and emo haters, this album stood apart from the rest of Dashboard’s wider discography. In fact, the largest music snob I have ever met—my former roommate—had an original vinyl copy that was the jewel of his collection. Even when I “outgrew” emo (outgrowing emo seems to have been more of a phase than my emo phase), I would still revisit this album without cringing (except for “Again I Go Unnoticed,” which reminds me more of screaming that song with my own guitar complaining about why no girls wanted to date me).

But the first two Dashboard albums, along with Further Seems Forever’s The Moon Is Down, released the next year, really captured the lightning that was 2000-2001 Chris Carabba in a bottle. The prototypical emo frontman, as engaging whether whispering or wailing, whether backed with a full band or his own acoustic guitar.

For years, I’ve pined in despair as I watched the price for vinyl copies soar well over $100. A recent box set retailed for $80, and is now in the $400 range. My desperation even led me to buy a cash grab vinyl compilation that had a full disc of songs I didn’t care about. But now, with this and Places reissued and in my collection, all is made right.

Now if you’ll excuse me. I have some vocal chords to shred.