Along with politics and religion, music is one of those things that one shouldn’t be discussed around the dinner table. Nothing gets people more worked up than telling them their favourite band sucks.
The same way a Testament-thumper will want to drive a stake through your heart if you believe in Evolution, a Rammstein fan will tell you you haven’t lived until Till Lindeman has come all over your face.
In my book, though, there’s not much difference between the screaming tweens chasing after Justin Bieber and the testicle-pierced sulkers worshipping OTT bands like Rammstein; because in both cases, it’s not really about the music.
Bieber fans think he’s sooooo key-oot and adorable, whereas Rammsteiners feel solidarity in hate against society and anything fluffy. And as much as JB’s music is contrived and commercial, Rammstein’s is noisy and soulless.
But then who am I to judge? I actually own a Taylor Swift album, regard meeting the drummer of Iron Maiden as one of my life’s great ‘achievements’, and think Matchbox Twenty is one of the bestest bands, like, ever!
The same way I enjoy a McDonald’s burger but know it’s not stellar cuisine, I sometimes enjoy kak music even though I know it’s not good.
Dissing the music someone likes is an affront on their ‘coolness’ – and nothing is more sacred. That’s why so many people still smoke cigarettes; anyone who tells you they suck on a camel for ‘the taste’ is full of it, smoking is just so damn cool!
Forget the adage ‘sex sells’, there is no currency stronger than ‘cool’.
I think we all unconsciously doubt our musical tastes, and look to people we think are cool to tell us what to listen to. That’s why almost every Facebook status update in Cape Town last week was either someone bragging about going to the U2 concert, or lamenting the fact that they couldn’t be there.
You can’t not like U2 and still be socially adept, and even though there is some stock in the belief that going against the grain holds an element of coolness, with this band it just doesn’t work.
The thing is, aside from U2, nothing is guaranteed eternal cool status. Looking back, styling my hair like Vanilla Ice and wearing my clothes backwards because of the kids from Kriss Kross was a bad idea and proof that music more often than not inspires idiocy.
And what is music, really, but the soundtrack to our life? Songs remind us of past girlfriends and heartache, inspire us, make us feel strong or weak or sometimes both at the same time.
Nostalgia is an old shoebox of dusty mix tapes, that's all.
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