I am a music nerd. A music snob. I spend way too much time with music, finding obscure bands, picking and choosing the newest no-name group that I am going to devote a ridiculous, really stupid amount of time to, listening/ dissecting/ understanding them, poring over liner notes and looking at their Wikipedia page as if by knowing what town they came from, I will understand them better. As if there is some great mystery to unravel.
There are a lot of people I know who are like this, mostly because I run in really small, crabby circles of people who all care a lot about stuff like whether Weezerâs best album was The Blue Album or Pinkerton. (The answer is The Blue Album, and if you want to argue this with me, I am prepared to write somewhere between 30-50,000 words defending my point.)
A reoccurring trait Iâve found in a lot of my snobby music friends is that we believe, in our heart of hearts, that there is a missionary aspect to our work as music snobs. Not missionary as in the sex position (though weâre down) but missionary in that we believe it is part of our work as music snobs to go out and spread the Gospel. With great power comes great responsibility. And as music snobs, it is our duty, our CALLING, to go out and tell as many people as possible about these hidden musical treasures.
(Is it weird that we then get upset when one of our hidden treasures gets immensely popular? [I could not have jumped off the Kings of Leon bandwagon faster the first time I heard âUse Somebodyâ on KISS 108 in Boston.] Yes, of course itâs weird. None of this makes any sense. But the heart doesnât make sense, you know? THE HEART DOESNâT MAKE SENSE.)
But yeah, we believe it is our responsibility as music snobs to go out and tell our non-music snob friends about bands they âshouldâ be listening to. As if by listening to good bands they will somehow lead better lives. (Yes, we believe this. Even writing this down, and seeing how stupid it looks in print, doesnât change the fact that I believe, in my heart of hearts, that people who listen to The Kinks will lead deeper, more valuable, better lives than those who listen to Top 40 Radio. I know this is bullshit. I know it doesnât make any sense. But I repeat: THE HEART DOESNâT MAKE SENSE. IT BELIEVES WHAT IT BELIEVES.)
One of the biggest disappointments in my life thus far has been finding out how little this is true. In the grand scheme of things, no one really cares what I listen to. Even though I make countless playlists on Spotify, share hundreds of songs on my blog⌠Iâm beginning to understand that very few people actually give a shit. I have about five or six friends who subscribe to my playlists, ask me for new music consistently, but I think they might be secret music snobs, too.
So I need to make peace with this, Iâve decided. An example: Iâve been badgering my friend Mac for about 12 years now about his music taste. Heâs an incredibly smart guy, a talented journalist, a good friend. He also likes about six songs in the history of recorded music. One is âRun Aroundâ by Blues Traveler. Three of them are by Taylor Swift. The kid just listens to (what I believe is) terrible music.
(Just kidding Taylor Swift fans! Her music is great! I love âWe Are Never Ever Getting Back Togetherâ! I plan on naming my first child Taylor, regardless of its sex! I worship at an altar of Taylor Swift nightly!)
Iâve been proselytizing to Mac for over a decade now, since I met him when we were both nervous and skinny freshmen in high school. And you know whatâs happened over that decade? Nothing. He still only likes âTwo Princesâ by The Spin Doctors. (Which is one we actually agree on. Awesome song!)
But itâs time to quit. Even though Iâll always believe, in my heart of hearts, that Mac would be a better person IF HE WOULD JUST GIVE BELLE & SEBASTIAN A CHANCE, I need to let it die. Heâs a good person. He doesnât need my help. People will like what they like. And sorry fellow music snobs, but no matter how many playlists we make, or music videos we post⌠it will probably always just be us, talking to ourselves.
Again: people will like what they like. Music nerds of the world, letâs hold hands and accept this. The heart doesnât make any sense. The heart believes what the heart believes. The heart wants what the heart wants.