Meditations on Dad Rock Anna Halladay
I’ve always been the first to admit that I’m a bit of a music snob, and anyone who knows me would definitely agree. But three recent events — along with a self-improvement kick — have me thinking about the very foundations of this snobbery. These events are: • my friends told me that they were scared for me • I declared a GWSS major and subsequently got into a fight with my brother • I started dating someone who loves prog rock For a long time, I was very happy to have my opinions without thinking too hard about why I had them. It’s a lot easier that way. I listen to my music because I think it’s good and I don’t listen to other music because I think it’s bad. I make arbitrary snap judgments about songs or artists. Lots of music that I don’t like is dismissed to the catch-all category of “dad rock,” whatever that even means. It’s a simple system that has always served me well. I’m not hurting anyone, I’m just listening to my music (which is good and which I enjoy listening to). Nothing wrong with that, right? And there isn’t anything wrong with that, in theory; but that wasn’t quite what was happening. This brings us to point 1: my friends and I were hanging out at some point last year, and they were talking about how there are some people that they’re scared to play their music in front of for fear of being judged for their tastes. I agreed, because I have shit self-confidence and feel like I’m being judged all the time, to the point where I don’t let people listen to my KRLX show. I was shocked when my roommate stared at me and said that I was one of those people. I think I laughed it off in the moment, but this comment really did stick with me. It honestly sent me spiraling a bit, because I really didn’t want to be one of those people. I know some of those people (e.g., my brother) and they make me angry — which brings us to point 2. I’m a GWSS major, which means I think about a lot of things. I think about how we know what we know and why we like what we like, and I think about how we judge and quantify things, and I think about when a personal distinction of “good” or “bad” becomes a moral distinction of “good” or “evil.” Those were the things I was thinking about when I got in an argument with my brother at some point last year. My brother is a film major and a major film elitist, and he likes to categorize movies as either good or bad. Mutually exclusive, no nuance. By his logic, “good” movies are worth watching (in silence! with reverence!) and “bad” movies reflect some sort of personal failing in anyone who enjoys them. This is obviously a frustrating and problematic point of view, and all of my attempts to make him understand why were completely ineffectual. (It was not a fun conversation. We both cried.) So I freaked a little when I realized that my friends might view me in a similar way. I hated being judged by my brother for watching a romcom, and I didn’t want other people to feel judged by me for listening to music that they derived pleasure from. NF009 | 14
