33 minute read
By Sadie Frankel
It isn’t uncommon to meet people who used to participate in music. From theater to high school band and chorus to self-taught guitarists, we’ve all had experience with music in our lives. But how does this time affect one’s life once they stop playing or know that they will not venture into music as a career path?
Having a background in music, even just in a high school band setting, can make one’s future interactions with music very different than those of someone who has no prior knowledge or technical experience. Having played piano for five years, guitar and trumpet for six, and sang musical theater for eight, I’ve noticed the way that I interact with music somewhat differs from my friends. I’ve always felt closer to music because I know the engineered, creative processes factoring into its production. When watching a live performance, I am brought back to band and chorus concerts, musicals and shows that I have performed in, and can imagine the intensity felt by the artist on the stage. The pressure, the volume and the audience energy all compound into a sensation unmatched by anything, and I can only imagine the sheer magnitude of that feeling on a large scale.
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I am not the only one who has noticed this pattern. Ethan Kroes, 19, is a first-year VMA major at Emerson College. He played ukulele through elementary school, switched to guitar in middle school, and then piano in high school. Kroes no longer plays music, explaining that it is because he didn’t feel as though he was born with the skills that would make him successful or “particularly good” at music.
Despite this, Kroes still has a great appreciation for music, primarily because he feels he could never get to the level of the professionals he listens to. “I would say I am a lot more appreciative of [music],” Kroes says. “I really struggled to understand [music] on that deeper level. I could never compose something myself.” Because of this self-awareness
caused by his years of musical experience, Kroes feels “in awe” of people whose brains do work in an inherently musical way.
In fact, Kroes says that his musical experience has humbled him and made him less critical of music. “I can’t do better,” he says.
Katherine Asselin, 19, a first-year Political Communications major at Emerson, talked about how her participation in musical theater throughout middle and high school impacts the way that she interacts with music. “I think there are certain things that I notice [more],” she says. “I can tell if a harmony is good… sometimes, there are songs that I’m like, ‘That was really well-arranged.’”
The most notable musical aspect that Asselin observes is taken from live performances. “It is so hard to sing and dance at the same time, so when I see performers who are jumping around, that is some serious breath control,” she impressively notes.
Brooke Huffman, 18, a first-year Journalism major at Emerson, looks at her experience differently from Asselin and Kroes — her experience in music, particularly musical theater, has made her more critical of the performances of others. Huffman explains that she has “an overall appreciation for the work an artist does,” but at the same time, she finds herself listening and critiquing music internally.
“It’s one of those things where if you play an instrument and you hear someone else play that instrument, you can more easily pick up on its flaws,” she states.
Satiene Fortenbach, 19, a first-year
VMA major at Emerson, similarly finds herself more critical and aware of the different parts of music. Having studied
piano for 14 years at the Conservatory of Music in San Francisco, she has some expertise in music composition, particularly in piano.
“Especially if I just listen to someone playing Bach, I’ll notice where they could have maybe lingered on more,” she says.
Fortenbach’s experience in music also increases the appreciation and focus she puts into the music. “People say you either listen to the melody or you listen to the lyrics, but I think personally, I listen more now to both,” she says.
People’s experiences are usually a reason for what they enjoy and what they do not. Musicians’ goals are rooted in moving people and eliciting an array of thought-provoking reactions. Music is made for everyone, and everyone has an opinion on music. While for some, a background in music can make music less enjoyable — and possibly less impressive, as they can hear the small mistakes where others cannot — it also can open one’s appreciation for the arts.
“Music is a universal language. The 12 notes are there for everyone, and those notes don't discriminate.” Angélique Kidjo, musician
There is a park directly across the street from my apartment in New York City. I spent every sunny afternoon as a kid prancing around its grassy areas, gardens, running trails and playgrounds. In the middle of its garden was a communal piano; it stood out like a sore thumb from the greenery and pastel colors of the garden, its body covered in graffiti and splatter painted neon rainbow with carved names covering every square inch. The wood was splintering and chipped; it was in desperate need of a tuning job. However, the condition of the piano did not matter. I loved to sit on the wobbly bench and plunk the keys, pretending I knew exactly what I was doing. Every time I would walk by, a new set of fingers would be gracing those ivory keys. Whether it was a trained pianist playing Beethoven or a little child banging their sticky hands on the piano, music was being spread around the city to anyone who would listen.
The rhythm-filled streets of NYC raised and shaped me. My eyes opened to the impact and power street musicians have on a city, even though they are often overlooked or drowned out by our AirPods. Rhythm and melodies pulsate around every corner, weaving its way around the big, bustling grid. On every sidewalk, in every park, in every subway station, someone is guaranteed to be playing their heart out. Many street musicians are regulars on their corner or subway platform. I would say hello to the same bluegrass band each morning as I passed them on my way to high school. If I were to say “the violinist under the bridge in Central Park,” locals would know just exactly who I was referring to.
We may speak in diferent languages, but music is universal. Even if we have nothing in common, we can always count on music to unite us.
The sounds on each corner are always different. A woman with a fancy electric guitar connected to big amps plays on one corner and a man with an overturned plastic bucket, a funky rhythm, and his bare palms on the next. Each style is different, but the sound always comes from their heart. It’s raw, honest, genuine, and bold, all while bending the norms. The diversity of a city thrives through its music scene and the musicians who are kind enough to share their art form with us.
The sidewalks are an inclusive and welcoming space for music where there are no rules. Performers are able to play any instrument, spreading their culture and talent with the rest of the city. Instruments and music styles some may have never heard before are on display for passersby to appreciate. The next time you take a walk through the Boston Common between classes, listen for the man playing the erhu, a traditional Chinese
Street musicians, also known as buskers, make up a crucial part of major cities worldwide — not just NYC. When I moved to Boston, my exposure to street performance hardly changed. All cities are diverse melting pots, composed of people from various cultures and backgrounds.
string instrument.
One afternoon last semester, as I was leaving the Starbucks on Boylston Street, I got two types of afternoon pick-me-ups for the price of one: I enjoyed an iced oat milk latte and a front row seat to a bear playing the keytar. The bear wore flashy, bright clothing and gold high top sneakers as he shredded his keytar. My friends and I glanced at each other to make sure we weren’t hallucinating. We danced as we waited for the light to change and nodded our heads to his beat all the way back to our dorms. The Boston icon, known as the Keytar Bear, jammed like there was no tomorrow. Keytar Bear’s true identity is unknown, but they spoke in an interview with Boston Magazine about their performing, saying their intentions are all about putting people in a better mood.
Radha Rao, a 22-year-old Indian American singer-songwriter (and @radhamusic_ on Instagram), takes her music and keyboard to the streets of Boston to spread art, love, and to make an impact.
“Music is therapy and something everyone can relate to and understand everybody better,” Radha shared.
This past October, Rao performed “All of Me” by John Legend in the middle of Boston’s Faneuil Hall. To her surprise, she noticed John Legend halfway through her performance. He, his wife and kids watched Radha sing her heart out and give it her all. Rightfully stunned, Rao finished singing John’s song as he watched proudly, then the two of them embraced in a warm hug.
“I love the connections formed through the medium of music. We all can come to a place of understanding and relatability with one another,” Rao shares when asked what she loves most about sharing music in Boston. Performing on the streets teaches Rao and others the perseverance to “sing through anything and everything.”
There is no age requirement to watch or to perform around the city. The Vibe Check Band shares their
music right in Harvard Square in between studying for school. Despite being only 15 years old, their sound transports listeners back to the ’70s with their funkrock influences.
Music provides the power to heal and provide comfort in times of universal hurting. Rao is full of desire to share music accessibly with the people around her in hopes of providing a sense of healing.
“A pandemic is the perfect time to share art and love, especially when people aren’t able to get out and go to concerts. I want to heal, help, and provide service to myself and others,” Rao says.
When you cross a street performer, you rarely know their backstory or what led them to where they are. Vivian Luo, also known as Violin Viiv, is an electric violinist and a Boston regular. She gifts Faneuil Hall with her untraditional yet powerful sound. You may recognize her from her covers of hit songs or bright rainbow outfits. Luo lost most of her eyesight due to Acanthamoeba Keratitis, an infection in the corneas, but this doesn’t stop her from performing incredibly time after time. Performing provides joy to her and her audience as well as the chance to form various connections. Luo told the Faneuil Hall Marketplace blog that “spontaneous dance offs, toddlers and kids that become my biggest fans and the other vendors that feel like family,” are her favorite things.
Luo set up outside of TD Garden on a night that Lil Nas X went to a Bruins game. As the game ended and TD Garden started to empty, Lil Nas X heard “Old Town Road” booming from Luo’s amps outside. Lil Nas X approached Viiv as she jumped up and down with joy playing “Old Town Road.” The rapper recorded and put her on his Instagram story. Just days earlier, Viiv expressed on her Instagram how she would love to play for him.
One morning on my way to high school, I sat on the busy downtown 1 train and watched a man bang on an overturned white bucket as another performer started
rapping to the beat. I took out my AirPods and watched art being created spontaneously, both men connecting together through their style of music and passion. Different acts and genres fuse together, forming new sounds and connections.
These musicians spread inspiration. The man banging on upside down buckets is proof that music can come from anywhere. Get creative with it, and this creativity can stick with people and spread like wildfire. More and more people now become inspired to make music, even if it’s just tapping a rhythm on their desk or humming a melody in the shower. It stands as a reminder that music is for everyone. You don’t need expensive tickets and a sold out venue. All you need is open ears, a little melody and absolutely anything that makes sound.
Visual by Jennifer Naar
With the popularity of different music genres coming and going, pop stars rising and falling, and the internet changing how we listen to music, the music industry will never stay stuck in one place. However, there are a few things that haven’t changed about the music industry that are important to our history and need to be recognized consistently: that is the influence of Black culture in music, one of the most critical impacts of the music industry. Whether it’s paving the way for the creation of new genres, bringing genres to their peak popularity, or spreading influential messages through lyricism, Black musicians consistently bring their passion and talent to the table.
One of the standout characteristics in Black music is the artist’s storytelling abilities. Great lyricism is one of the most important aspects in being a great artist; one experience is able to reach and resonate with so many listeners. The Black experience is something that is commonly misunderstood around the world. Whether it’s hardship, misfortune, success, or love, the Black experience is one that can only be told through words of Black artists; their widespread stories become a point of learning and understanding.
Many Black artists use these skills for the better today. Cleveland-based rapper and producer Scott Mescudi, aka Kid Cudi, is said to have saved multiple people’s lives due to his ability to not only to combine rap and hip-hop with electronic music, but also be vulnerable and open about his issues with depression and loss.
A lot of people do not realize the lack of exposure surrounding discussions about mental health in the Black community. Many mainstream Black artists project harmful themes of hypersexualtiy, objectification, and aggression in their music, indirectly imposing these ideologies onto their listeners. Black hypermasculinity also poses a continual issue both in and out of the music industry. Listeners believe that adopting or enjoying anything that is not considered masculine is automatically feminine, leading to the immediate rejection of topics like mental health. A lot of Black
kids, including myself, did not know what was wrong with them or how to fix this feeling of loneliness — Kid Cudi felt this way too. Through Cudi’s transcendent beats and relatable yet devastatingly truthful lyrics to the hyper-masculine hip-hop scene, he was able to not only influence the betterment of his listeners, but also popularize a new kind of production to other artists like Kanye West and Schoolboy Q.
The impact of an artist’s message makes music essential in and to society. When artists spill their thoughts and ideas, the amount of change that can be provoked within a four minute track or a forty-five minute album is revolutionary. I saw a huge need for influence in the music industry, especially from Black artists, in the summer of 2020. With the Black Lives Matter movement picking up momentum, many Black artists stood with the activists by doing what they do best: using their talent for change. Rappers like Anderson .Paak, Lil Baby, and more released protest anthems to raise awareness around the movement, the mishandling of the protests due to the brutality of police officers, and more. Lil Baby’s protest song, “The Bigger Picture,” gained incredible traction during this time, gaining 176 millions streams on Spotify and 155 million views on YouTube. In the song, Lil Baby states:
When artists use their voices to promote positive change, people listen and get behind the message. These fans look up to their favorite artists and want to be just like them when they grow up. When change and justice are the most important things our country needs, artists are almost like our superheroes.
As a young Black woman myself, I have been extremely influenced by my favorite Black artists. Growing up in a predominantly white neighborhood and attending multiple predominately white institutions (PWIs), I felt very alone in my experiences when it came to growing up and relating to my friends. However, I could always count on one person to share my feelings with: my twin sister, Summer. Summer and I’s biggest connection with each other is through music. Whether it’s attending concerts together or sharing our new favorite songs, music is our permanent link. I distinctly remember back in 2018 when we received tickets to see Beyoncé and Jay-Z on their “On The Run 2” tour for our 16th birthday. Seeing such a powerful Black couple take over Soldier Field in Chicago represented one of the most inspiring experiences for the both of us. We look back at videos and fawn over the power they had over us while performing. Based on that influential experience, I asked Summer a few questions about her relationship and connection to other Black artists in her life.
Sydney: Who are Black artists that have been a positive influence on you and how?
Summer: Beyoncé has always been influential, as she is quite literally one of the greatest musicians of all time. Vocally she is talented, but she is incredibly dedicated and passionate about her work. She is extremely hardworking and many of her songs have powerful messages [ie. “Run the World,” “Pretty Hurts,” etc.]. I like SZA, as I can relate to certain things in her music as a Black woman. I also like J. Cole because he reminds me to be comfortable in who I am and to appreciate what I have. In general there are many Black artists in all music genres that have impacted me in some way, but I especially love it when
these artists allow me to embrace who I am as a young Black woman. Of course their music is phenomenal, but the messages are just as valuable.
Sydney: Why do you think it is important to listen to Black artists, especially today?
Summer: I think that listening to Black artists is important because you’re able to relate to specific issues and feelings that an artist expressed in their music. You may even relate to the artist themselves.
Listening to Black artists makes me feel connected and embracing of my Blackness. It’s important to have artists in your life that are talented. It’s like a sense of pride to have people in your community become influential in some aspect. No one
can do it like us. We’re also really diverse and come from different backgrounds and experiences. Black people are involved in all genres which I think is really cool. Sydney: Where have you seen Black artists influence other artists, no matter the race? Summer: I think that musicians can be influenced by fellow artists and use their work as inspiration. I also think that in general, many people view the work of Black creators and at times attempt to recreate
their art. Black people are the blueprint for a lot
of things and it’s important that we receive credit
and acknowledgment of our talent. I think you
also see how Black culture and music has influenced other genres. Rock music appears to be more white dominated when in reality, it resulted in the popularity of rhythm and blues.
Sydney: I feel like because Black culture has so much influence on multiple cultures, there can be some negative effects that come with the positive effects too. Do you agree?
Summer: Hearing rap music makes some people think that all Black people participate in drugs, illegal activity, crime… Stereotypes of us being uneducated
if we do “mumble rap” saying all rap is “trap music.” There’s also lots of cultural appropriation by celebrities taking from Black culture too. I mentioned before that jazz music also influenced rock music, which was also popularized by white people.
As Summer mentioned, some negative outcomes come from the popularity of Black artistry. Exploitation of Black music and anti-Blackness has been a huge issue in the music industry for decades now. Artists like 6ix9ine and Nav have both used the n-word repeatedly in their music while neither of them are Black. Before artists like Tyler the Creator or Lil Nas X came around, Black artists were rarely deemed eligible to be called “pop artists’’ because pop music was always a space associated with white artists. Even on TikTok, Black creators are popular but have their content stolen and popularized by whites creators, which is why dance and inspiration credits have become necessary to include in the captions of many videos. Although their impact is great, we still have to be knowledgeable about knowing the difference between influence and exploitation.
There is no denying that Black influence is everywhere and anywhere. It’s so impressive and comforting seeing how much Black artists have paved the way, especially in terms of making and listening to music; I hope other listeners, especially those not a part of the communities these artists represent, realize that full impact as well. As the music we listen to changes over time — and that change is necessary — it’s important we remember where the music we listen to now comes from and know the efforts of Black artists will only continue to flourish over time.
For decades, musical artists have leaned on stage fashion to catch the attention of their audiences. Whether it’s James Brown’s intricate suits or Elton John’s feathers and flared ends, stagewear has always had the ability to capture one’s music and personality. Today’s artists are following the legends’ footsteps with what they perform in. The phenomenon often occurs with musicians that are reviving genres more popular in the past. Bruno Mars’s and Anderson .Paak’s R&B duo Silk Sonic have done some brilliant performances in attire that mimic frequent onstage looks in the seventies, dawning earth-tone suits with dramatic detail. These fashion statements are such an important element to not only the performance and capturing the audience, but also conveying the artist’s music and personal style.
Artists will often use their onstage clothing to express not only their discography, but also their true personality. Songs are written as a form of expression, so when the stage attire coincides with the music, it creates a captivating energy for the audience. Stevie Nicks’s outfits emulated her whimsical lyrics with her scarves and layered skirts. Lil Nas X enters the stage in his varying country-glam outfits, circling back to his viral hit, “Old Town Road.” They are great performers in their own ways, but their iconic looks are a sizable part of their stage presence.
You can always count on women artists to wear some of the most stunning onstage attire. Chaka Khan, Diana Ross and Tina Turner are just a few women that surely pioneered today’s on stage fashion. No one can forget the way the details on Tina’s dresses twirled while she mesmerized the audience with her dancing. Current artists like Dua Lipa and Doja Cat are clearly drawing inspiration from the closets of the talented women in music that came before them. Dua wears various outfits coinciding with looks that were dawned in the Studio 54 era to go along with her mystifying album, Future Nostalgia, which also pulls musical elements from the same period and gives each song an impending sound. Doja’s outfits have a visible hint of Chaka’s attire
while also appearing as a character from her recent release, Planet Her.
Local artist Skylar Weiss and his band Skylar Symone & the Local Enigma love to dress however they want for performances. Weiss describes his performance, fashion, and style in general as ever-changing, saying it’s “a little bit like a chameleon.” The band wore t-shirts, jeans and baseball caps for one show at a skate park to skate after and also rocked a completely pink face at a local Midway Cafe performance. Weiss indicates his main musician style influences include legends like Prince, David Bowie, and Jimi Hendrix.
As a transgender person, Weiss feels there is a lack of representation in high femme men fashion. He pinpoints the Fletcher twins of The Garden for inspiration and representation and also looks to Dorian Electra, a musician with an unbelievable array of powerful hair and makeup. Weiss does feel as though Skylar Symone & the Local Enigma is an outlier in the Boston music scene, sometimes feeling pulled to prove their identity or worth as attached to their clothing choices for performances. He hopes to dissolve the binary largely prevalent in Boston’s music scene.
“It’s harder to be taken seriously. People see you as showy… I’m not apologetic for being flamboyant,” says Weiss.
Skylar is quite DIY not only with his music, but his style as well. Coming from his hometown of San Francisco, amazing thrift stores have always been available to him. He enters these stores with confidence, knowing he has the potential to turn anything into a look. Weiss often gravitates to textured fabric, emphasizing the importance of getting creative instead of monopolizing the nice things from Goodwill or a local thrift store. He also shops with an open mind, explaining that “sometimes the most feminine items
I decide to take and make a man-look for me.” He recently purchased a pair of platform boots painted pee dripping down the sides of them to coincide with
Skylar Symone’s single “Don’t Piss On My Leg,” hoping to debut them soon when performing the song. 110
“My dream [is] to be unrecognizable in the way that Daft Punk is with helmets, but with makeup and style, the way people perceive me,” says Weiss.
An array of men existing within different genres have also brought some of the most memorable looks to the stage. Whether it be in rock, punk rock, R&B, pop or hip-hop, male artists are not afraid to look just like their music. Some of today’s male artists, such as Harry Styles and Kid Cudi, follow their inspirations by pushing fashion choices outside of societal gender boundaries and using their platform to make their audiences feel comfortable with their identities. The majority of the male artists dressing brilliantly in the past are now looked to as role models for breaking out of the gender norms rigid during their primes or openly exploring gender fluidity. Unfortunately, at the time that they were doing so, people outside of their fanbase were not accepting of their endeavors. Current nonbinary artists praise those who represented gender fluidity in the past. Their impact ranges beyond the reimagination of different style concepts — it instills affirming confidence into these identities.
The astonishingly multi-faceted musician Tash Sultana recently partnered with New Balance to promote the brand’s new gender-neutral line, XC-72. This pairing aligns with their on-stage aesthetic, as they often perform in androgynous casual attire. Yves Tumor, a nonbinary electronic rock artist, adopts a similar mentality to expand upon the experimental choices present in their discography. They often rock eye-catching outfits and makeup looks inspired by the ’70s, generally dawning unique details or patterns.
Creativity has a large role in what these artists wear on stage to enhance their performance. From designers to stylists, to the artists themselves, all have a vision that circles back to the music. Although the cycles of backdressing makes it difficult to predict what exactly musicians will wear on stage in the future, one thing is for certain: current artists are infatuated with looks of legends, extracting bits and
pieces from iconic looks to create space for themselves in these conversations and subcultures.
Last semester, I wrote an article for this very magazine about the old Combat Zone neighborhood, where X-rated films, prostitutes, and music permeated the space that Emerson College now occupies. One of the main issues I encountered was the lack of information about any of the venues in this area. They seem like relics: fallen into internet depths where people might know a name or an image, but can never experience how they were. I could have chosen any of those venues in this area for a deeper dive, but none stand out as much as the Boston Tea Party.
Sure, information about the club is readily available online. The venue was founded January 20, 1967, at 53 Berkeley Street, in what was once a synagogue built in 1872 (though many claim it was a Unitarian Church, with an inexplicable Star of David engraved in the top of the building). In the previous year, the location held the Filmmakers Cinematheque, which screened underground films by artists like Andy Warhol and Jonas Mekas. While the Tea Party started out hosting local bands, it would soon be hosting new acts like the Velvet Underground, The Who, and Fleetwood Mac, as well as older classics like B.B. King, Little Richard, and Muddy Waters.
What cannot be told by all of the facts and figures is how The Boston Tea Party, along with other famous venues of the time, helped psychedelic and challenging sounds pervade the American consciousness. And somehow it is not remembered. This article is not about the
history of the Boston Tea Party, but rather how it was and what its legacy is: a legacy that may be even more important than the actual event it was named after.
The Boston Tea Party was incredibly indicative of its time. Like many other rock clubs, it was surrounded by a certain shadiness. Research online won’t fully explain who owned the club or who had a mere part to play in making it, though there were elites involved: lawyers, professors, and grad students. Those truly in the culture itself didn’t see much of a cut.
Nonetheless, the club as its own entity was fully entrenched in a progressive scene. “Tea” was a colloquial term for marijuana that paid homage to the drug scene and invited it into its doors, helping sponsor a nationwide (and then worldwide) obsession with all things psychedelic. The aforementioned Velvet Underground and their visuals, conceived by Andy Warhol, helped bring psychedelic art to the forefront of the cutting edge. Lucid colors would swirl and wash over the audience members from the screen behind the Velvets, resonating with distorted guitar and Bachian melodies over monotone singing, sometimes for over ten minutes a song. In late 1968, frontperson Lou Reed even claimed the Boston Tea Party was their favorite place to play (of course he said it onstage at the Tea Party).
Bands like The Grateful Dead played for hours, sometimes doing only one song, weaving back and forth through music, space, and time. On New Year’s Eve in 1969, the Dead tried to spike the drinks in the soda machine with LSD. The Boston Tea Party attracted these bands as a result of its openness, its freedom, and how it gave a big “fuck you” to anyone trying to stand in its way. In hindsight, it is highly debatable as to how much it really worked out in the end. Maybe the fuck you to the system was really a way for the owners to get the most money possible (and the children of hippies ended up voting for Reagan anyway), but it is inarguable that it had an effect on people and how the new generation saw things. The psychedelic it delivered was riveting, it was new, and its goal was the
expansion of the mind and consciousness. How bad could it be?
The Boston Tea Party closed its doors in December 1970. Maybe it was due to the increased commercialization of rock & roll, where the money-go-round made bands charge more cash from venues and venues charge more from the audience. Maybe better clubs opened up. Maybe venues felt the pressure to get bigger and bigger until they became stadiums, the rock bubble bursting and killing the music. Maybe the owners were just sick of it. I could explain how the venue now is condominiums and how there’s currently a 7-11 store where its original location used to be, but that’s all trivial. You could look at it and pretend there’s leather jackets with popped collars and cheap sunglasses, holding their guitars in gun cases as they walk into the dimly lit space filled with cheers from the long-haired audience. But you’re more likely to see a strung out fellow getting a soda or fried thing and forget all about it. Yeah they ate fried shit in the ’60s, and they weren’t any cooler about it —they just thought they were.
I want to say that the Boston Tea Party was influential, but it really wasn’t. It was a great club that was enjoyed at the time and helped give great bands and artists a platform. But if nothing else, the Boston Tea Party serves as an indicator of the true ephemeral nature of art. As psychedelia and rock music grew, so did the Tea Party; the ship eventually sailed away from its authenticity and into commodified rock. But that’s just the nature of changing tides, and we have to keep moving along with it (unless you want to sink like British tea bags!)
Personal music taste is sacred. How lovely is it to have songs that are a perfect depiction of how you feel at any given moment? From a comforting Faye Webster ballad to a Drake Certified Lover Boy pregame, music oftentimes serves as a best friend and favorite kind of company. Simultaneously, music serves as a time machine. Listening to a song you loved at some point can bring back a memory in an instant: Pink Floyd immediately makes me think of my dad, while Rex Orange County brings me back to my sophomore year of high school. Music highlights so many intimate memories and emotions, and can replicate different pieces of life in the most heartwarming, nostalgic way.
However, the toxicity of music culture begins when individuals decide to define music as good or bad, wrong or right. Some may declare it’s “wrong” to listen to Kacey Musgraves because she is a country artist or that it’s “basic” to listen to Labrinth because of Euphoria’s popularity. Music is music outside of its connections or relations with other things; it shouldn’t be preconceived based on some broad assumption. “Good” music has no boundaries, and restricting labels can’t be placed on something so vast. Music taste is entirely subjective, and the concept and unnecessary pressure of listening to “good music” can deter people from finding the music they genuinely enjoy.
From my personal experience, people have always made music taste so competitive. I grew up in Miami, Florida, and people around me were very confident about what they were listening to. The simple question of “Do you know this song?” was a secret threat sparking a chance for someone to look down on you, destroy you and slam their musical knowledge all in your face. I was often embarrassed to share the type of music I enjoyed for fear of getting shut down or made fun of. From what I have found, reflecting on personal music taste and being slightly embarrassed is a laughably common experience for Emerson students. From Twenty One Pilots junkies to Glee stans, every person has their secret guilty pleasure artist they would be nervous to play on aux.
Underlying pretentiousness in music taste is something that seeps into social situations, whether we are conscious of it or not. We want to match our music to the vibe of the situation, the location, the people we are around. When music is terrible at parties, people immediately jump to judgmental conclusions. So many subconscious pressures arise when a person is sharing their music taste with others, highlighting a different yet equally as important aspect to the fear of vulnerability.
I played the song “Strawberry Fields Forever” by The Beatles while hanging in my dorm room last week. My friend perked up and immediately started spilling on how much he loved the group. “I love the Beatles, but I don’t talk about the Beatles. It feels like we aren’t allowed to talk about the Beatles.” I was honestly extremely confused by this reaction — The Beatles are one of the most talked-about bands ever; how would we not be allowed to talk about them anymore? It seems everyone has their own preconceived idea of what we are allowed to listen to, which may include artists that aren’t typically considered “guilty pleasures.” That preconceived notion of what you can and can’t play is different in everybody’s head, which only creates more stifling music tastes.
I recently found out from some friends that Tinder and Bumble have features that show your top 20 artists on
your dating profile and provide links to your Spotify or Apple Music accounts. It creates a lot of pressure for people on dating apps.
“I’ll totally swipe left on someone if I think their music taste sucks,” my roommate said, giggling to herself. However, five minutes later, she shared her own music insecurities, saying, “I feel like a lot of the shit I listen to is considered bad or a red flag.”
Music is something to share and embrace. There is no real musical hierarchy, as art is incomparable and each person’s individual music taste is equally as important and valid. Anything and everything you enjoy listening to is amazing, and no one should tell you otherwise. Music taste is an invitation for someone to really get to know you, and understand what your chosen company sounds like. Keep your sacred collection close to your heart, because each song in your library represents a different piece of who you are.
Listen to Emerson students’s guiltiest pleasures here!
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