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Music, You Sweet And Free, Capricious and Complicated Siren.

Everyone knows what good music is. This is because the term “good” is completely relative. Because we have such complicated predispositions and habits throughout our lives, everyone has at one point or another indulged in what they probably now consider to be some of the worst music in history. This is okay. Once, long ago, I bought a little album by a band named Chumbawumba. In the ’90s that was an awesome album with a single that went on repeat around the world. Classic? No. Varied? No. Intellectual? I just threw up in my mouth. But these blunders are a rights of passage for anyone expanding their musical consciousness.

As a pretty big hater myself, I have many times told someone that and album is garbage or an artist useless. To me, many artists and albums are both. Many people are not me. In fact, everyone but me is not me, so my musical opinions and relations are only the slightest bit successful if I can find a common ground within the taste of another. Even then, if we hopped in the old H.G. Wellsmobile and went back to fifth grade, I might get my feelings hurt by the same person on the playground when they claimed Garth Brooks to stand above Ace of Base (I was a sensitive sprout.) Pontification Truncation: music and our tastes are so relative and varied that good or bad music is purely a product of we, the walking apes.

Some sources and pontiffs find only the purest most independent grassroots folksy artists to be acceptable. Legions of consumers buy songs piecemeal on itunes, clicking away infinite invisible dollars on the latest Weezy remix featuring someone else you have to buy for your children. To each their own.  It is when we lose ear of the sound we love in favor of a scene or product that things get bad. If you love the way your music sounds, then love it. If it sounds bad to you, turn that noise off and stop wasting your time. Even if the emperor has no clothes and the world around you thrums with auto-tuned makeup, take a deep breath and turn it off. Just make sure you take time in your travels to relate to those who love it the way you do.

This morning I took a groggy plod around my block and crossed paths with a kid and his mother on their way to school (pre-school? I don’t know what children do at what age.) The kid’s mother stopped him and said: “Look at that guy’s shirt!” The wee one unzipped his sweater to reveal the exact same Ramones crest on his chest as mine. Total awesomeness. To me, good parenting. To others, child abuse. But I digest…

Well this has gone on long enough, I shall leave you with a blast from the past to kick your ass. Remember: Music independent or not, good or bad is just part of the mix. And the mix my friends, is what it is all about. Peace.

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