As I have mentioned in a previous post, I bloody love music. It has the power to lift me up or give me comfort. It makes me dance. It makes me cry. It makes me feel stuff. It’s amazing and I’m forever in awe of those with the talent to create it.
However, what has always pissed me off are those people who believe that they are somehow superior to others because of their taste in music. I’m lucky, I grew up in a house full of music and wide ranging music styles. Some days my dad would be playing Glen Campbell or War of the Worlds and on others, my mom would be playing her Boogie Nights mix tape. I did my GCSE coursework to the tunes of the 60s and me and my childhood friends made up dances to everything from Buddy Holly to Bucks Fizz.
By university I’d learnt that it wasn’t cool to admit to liking pretty much anything but 90s indie, preferably from Manchester, and for years I felt like I had to hide about 75% of what I loved.
Then I properly grew up and realised that I don’t care if I’m cool all the time. Music is so subjective. It’s personal. It’s an emotional thing. It’s what touches us and sounds good to our own ears. It is a time or a place. It is a loved one or a fleeting moment.
So for that very reason, no one can be better than anyone else because of the music that appeals to their ears and no one should be able to make you feel bad for liking what you like.
What’s more, there can be no such thing as a guilty pleasure when it comes to songs because – if it makes you happy then there should be no guilt!