Let He Who Is Without Sin

Two events happened back to back that are possibly worth discussing.

This past week I met up with Tim, who started Pandora.com, my internet musical playground. Pandora is a site that lets you plug in an artist or band you like and then goes through its records to create a station of songs you are likely to find equally appealing as tested by the Music Genome Project. I know, too cool to be true. It explores the fact that our musical taste might be a touch different if we felt we had complete privacy to explore -- and adore -- music. In discussing this, he brought up the fact that music is very personal to people.

Proving that "All roads lead to Madonna" (R), I was talking with my sister yesterday and she brought up my unrelenting love for all things Madonna (no secret to you, dear reader), and she wrinkled her nose or rolled her eyes or jabbed at her Indian food in a protest of my taste. I realized in a flash of a moment (or it could have been a curry-induced hotflash, but let's go with "epiphany") that I do the same thing.

Ok, so that's about when I started to feel bad. On the one hand, I do believe music is right up there with air and water. I believe music is important and fuels our days and forms a soundtrack that we each live by, that marks important dates or times or experiences. I think everyone should have access to it and that a world without songs would be, well, the gynocologist's office. I love music SO much and consider it such a basic human accessory that when I find people who *don't* have articulated tastes or preferences or feel satisfied to listen to music rather than own it and obsess over it, I get a bit confused. I then have to look at them and think quickly of all the redeeming qualities why I should go on being their friend. And then I have to tell myself "It doesn't matter if there aren't enough reasons. You still have to stay their friend!" It's true.

I'm a self-proclaimed radio-knob-arm-wrestler. If you're in the car with me, the rules go like this:

IF I'M DRIVING: I'm the radio boss. My car is equipped with buttons on the BACK of the wheel (so you don't even KNOW I'm the boss but I am). Totally coincidental, and at the same time, totally convenient. It has been brought to my attention that I will covertly turn up the volume while other people are talking if there's a song I like but then fade out so my own proclamations can be heard. I know, an obnoxious twitch of a habit. But come on, pretty funny. Volume, cd, track, station, it's all mine. It's my car, so naturally it follows that I'm the Music Leader in that situation.

IF OTHER PEOPLE ARE DRIVING: I will wait to hear what's on. If it's objectionable, I will request a music change. Particularly when a group of people are in a car, you'd think music wouldn't matter and you'd, I dunno, TALK to each other. But the awful truth is that I get carsick if I don't have music on in the car. And knowing this, most people prefer to let me be the Music Leader and not barf on their lovely upholstery.

IF MY SISTER IS DRIVING: I will not wait to hear what's on. I think this is more out of habit than anything else. If it's B-52s, we will leave it in peace. But then I will sing along and Susie will shut it off because my singing is apparently that offensive (although fans of The Parish may not agree, and I love you all -- ::mwah::) Then, as she's focused on a task like, I dunno, getting us somewhere in one piece, I will covertly begin tinkering. Susie is one safe driver and so, after a few times, she will usually just shut it off while I look around the car for that damn B-52s cd.

Ok so now that you are fully acquainted with my Musicism or whatever you want to call it, my bossy nature (if you must) about music and my Taste Preferences (see also "Judgmental"), you can imagine how taken aback I was by the mere notion, suggested to me ever so casually, that taking music personally and harassing people about their (poor/pathetic/offensive - circle one) music taste are at odds.

So I'm deciding which one I want to pick. Do I continue believing that music is personal and important and touches everyone in a different way -- which would require me at some point backing down and biting my lovely tongue when someone's eyes grow wide and bright at the mention of a remastered Abba disc? (I'm talking biting til it bleeds, people!) That kinda sounds like the whole thing where you try to find something nice in everyone. I know, I gagged too.

Or do I march forward in my Crusade Against Shitty Music like one of those generals in the Civil War who, I dunno, marched alot?

Don't you love rhetorical questions?