I’ve been called a lot of things over the years, but the
new name coming from friends these days is “elitist.”
It’s never in so many words, but the image that’s more
or less conjured up is that of Diane Keaton in
“Manhattan,” when she’s babbling on about her
“Academy of the Overrated,” slamming geniuses like F.
Scott Fitzgerald, Ingmar Bergman and Gustav Mahler. This is, as I
like to put it so eloquently, a bunch of cow patooie.
I admit, I probably think I know or listen to more music than
your average American. Maybe even your average UCLA student. Hell,
a lot of us think that way. Is this something that I take pride in?
Not especially, considering it’s just a measure of how much
time I’m willing to waste on a hobby. Am I condescending
about it? To artists, labels and the press, yes. They should be
held to a high standard. To fans and listeners, no. No real music
fan is an elitist. A sheer, open-minded love of music is the
driving force, not some petty need to distance ourselves from
consensus opinion.
Also, liking supposedly obscure artists shouldn’t be
criticized. Non-history majors, raise your hand if you know who
Giuseppe Garibaldi is. Being an ignorant American, I didn’t
know him myself until two months ago. He is a popular hero and
major historical figure in Italy. Just because most of us
don’t know who he is doesn’t diminish his importance.
The same goes in music.
The tastes of the general public can be frustrating at times.
This is, after all, a country that pulled $120 million-plus out of
its collective pocket for “Van Helsing” and re-elected
Bush, but to mask disagreement with condescension would be silly.
Example: The Game is the biggest selling artist of the year so far.
I don’t like what he stands for ““ the message of his
music, the manipulative way he’s been marketed ““ but
there’s a good reason he’s so popular. His beats knock,
and his hooks are catchier than the flu. The people at Interscope
have done their jobs exceptionally well.
We all like artists we know we probably shouldn’t;
it’s just a part of being human. For someone like me to trash
that impulse would be hypocritical. Here, for your amusement and my
embarrassment, are a few of my own guilty pleasures:
Kylie Minogue. Writers try to make excuses for her global-icon
status: They use the word “belies” a lot, which is
critic-speak for “It’s not as dumb as it sounds,
because I can’t help liking it.” Whatever, man, she
just rocks. That “won’t you stay” bridge from
“Can’t Get You Out of My Head” takes me to a
higher place. I have a friend who has dance parties where he sets
aside a half-hour to wild out to Kylie when there’s no one
around. I’ve never attempted one myself, but Kylie may
inspire me to have my own dance party some day.
Justin Timberlake. This one really hurts to admit. I hate the
guy, but I dig quite a few of his songs. A lot.
“Justified” is way better than anything any of the
other Mouseketeers put out. Britney’s got his number, though,
for “Toxic” and “I’m a Slave 4 U”
alone.
Kelly Clarkson. Tamyra getting cut from the first American Idol
is still one of history’s great injustices, like the bubonic
plague and Karl Malone never winning an NBA championship. But try
as I might, it’s impossible to dislike Kelly. Darn it if she
isn’t just a harmless girl from Dallas. It is, however, very
possible to rock out hardcore to “Since You’ve Been
Gone.” I’ve seen it firsthand.
I could go on forever. On the non-music tip, I’m a raving
fan of the Mighty Ducks trilogy: Congress should knight people the
way the British Queen does, so that Emilio Estevez can officially
be deemed a national treasure.
Also, I always look forward to getting sick from those
Marshmallow Peeps they sell during Easter.
So the next time you poke fun at a friend for being a
know-it-all, keep in mind that most of us have our own guilty
pleasures, and aren’t out to bag on or feel better than
others, or be obscure. These people aren’t know-it-alls; they
want to know it all because they just love something that much.
And they probably watch American Idol.
E-mail Lee at alee2@media.ucla.edu.