There seems to be a positive correlation between the obscurity level of the music you listen to and how qualified you are to tell others their music taste leaves something to be desired.
If you know of an artist that none of your friends know, not only does this prove your music taste superior, it tasks you with telling them how great and unique the artist’s sound is.
“Oh, you have to listen to this. Wait for it, it gets better!”
Then your friends are forced to pretend they liked whatever they just heard or risk being known as the Neanderthal who can’t appreciate good music.
I’m guilty of it myself. I ask people I’ve just met what type of music they like in an attempt to categorize them into a file.
Oh, you like Beethoven? You must be pretentious and a fake. Snow Patrol?
You’re stuck in the past. Katy Perry? Your level of depth is nonexistent. Drake? LOL.
It’s a terrible habit and one that we should conscientiously work against.
As a user of Spotify, I can share with you the anxious feeling I get when someone follows me. Knowing that someone will now be able to see what I’m listening to at any point in the day makes me a little uncomfortable. Why is that?
Our music preferences have now become a testimony to who we are. Hip-hop is a match for the misguided youth. Indie is construed to belong only to greasy-haired hipsters. Heavy metal is reserved for cynical goths. Country is for the hicks in the backcountry. Pop music is the choice of the brainwashed-run-of-the-mill-mainstream.
In reality, though, the music we like has little to do with the stereotypes we fit in and instead has so much to do with our experiences.
In high school, I dated someone who was really into Lil Wayne; during car rides, we would rap back and forth, and it was a dandy ol’ time.
My parents listened to Latin music at home, so every once in a while you’ll catch me bellowing out lyrics to Juan Gabriel.
I grew up in Smithfield, a small town known for hams and yams, so some George Strait offers a homey atmosphere.
So yeah, if you look at my activity on Spotify, you might say my music taste isn’t unique, or interesting or worthwhile.
Or, you might consider that hip-hop is condemned for lacking depth and relying on drugs, violence and sex-themed lyrics to sell records, but that in reality it’s an accessible source for artists to share their stories, artists who have struggled through situations we haven’t experienced and who could pass on a positive message through a common medium.
Maybe we could consider that pop music isn’t only for the unwashed masses who can’t think for themselves, but that it is popular because it takes advantage of the notes that innately appeal to our brains, that these songs are popular because we chose to make them so.
That country music isn’t just about small towns and cowboy boots. It can provide an atmosphere of home and comfort.
Someone’s musical preference shouldn’t serve as markers for any kind of label. We listen to the music we do because as individuals we have created our own customized library of what floats our boat. We attach feelings and memories to songs for reasons that don’t need to make sense to anyone but ourselves. We have cultural roots in our music. We can relate to certain artists because of our social backgrounds. What can be more unique than that?
I’m tired of having to preface my playlists with, “Don’t judge me! I like other things too! This is just my guilty pleasure playlist!”
If I want to listen to A$AP Rocky and Lady Gaga, well, by golly, that is what I will do.
The music we like is distinctive to who we are, what we’ve lived through, our preferences; it is a creation all of our own, so quit judging others on things you know little about, and be proud of the music you delight in.
