A couple weeks ago, I mentioned the relationship between taste in music and identity. It sparked a good start-of-a conversation between Katy and me. She suggested that it was common to our personality type. I’ll agree that it probably is very common to our personality type, but not at all exclusive to it. I should say upfront, though, that I don’t really know why it is that we see taste as such a crucial part of identity. I have thought a lot about it, especially in the past 2-3 years, but I haven’t drawn a whole lot of conclusions. One thing I know is that most statements about our musical tastes are statements about ourselves.
Katy mentioned the people who claim–on Facebook, for example–that they like “everything” or “anything.” We’ve got reason to be suspicious of this claim. Surely, anyone who claims “anything/everything” can think of one or two artists they like better than most, one or two songs that they’d like to hear more often than others. But “anything/everything” avoids classification and outside judgement, and even reframes an indecisive lack of commitment as a cosmopolitan tolerance.
I’ve noticed a few variations on this claim. There’s the racist/classist–or at least rockist–exception that one likes everything “except rap and[/or] country.” There’s the over-explanation of circumstances under which one might want to hear a certain style of music (”rap when I’m dancing, country when I’m out with friends, pop when I’m driving,” etc.). I know a young woman who claims she likes anything, but hates music without lyrics. These exceptions avoid the pathology of “anything/everything” and help define identity with negative claims.
Then there are those who will list dozens bands as their favorite music. These people paint a broad picture without painting themselves in a corner. It’s both specific and evasive. It makes a strong claim without any strong commitment.
I’ve also observed, recently, that there seem to be just as many people who are afraid of being classified as trendy or snobby as those who are afraid of being unhip. The backlash creates just as much anxiety as the trend.
I want to emphasize that this is not a generational thing. When I was visiting my parents recently, American Idol sparked a dialogue about music. My dad claimed that popular music changed a lot more during his youth than during mine, that he and I had more in common than he and my grandfather. I shattered that argument. I raised my eyebrows and said, “Hip-hop?” He looked embarrassed when he heard his own retort, which was, “Well, that’s not even music.” I ended the conversation by saying, “See?”
In other related junk (books, movies, TV, etc.), the connection is not so intense as with music. Yes, I know that when I list all indie films as my favorites, I’m saying something about myself, but not something that feels so intimate. Same with books and TV shows. I’m guessing that Nickelback t-shirts outnumber John Grisham t-shirts, that G Unit tattoos outnumber “Good Luck Chuck” tattoos, and that Evanescence bumper stickers outnumber “According to Jim” bumper stickers.
To make this more personal, I have made several claims about how I like iCarly and tween TV in general. If I told you that I’ve been watching Hannah Montana, you might roll your eyes and dismiss it as a socially acceptable quirk. If I told you that I’ve been listening to Miley Cyrus, your response might be more critical. To be sure, I’m more embarrassed to listen to Miley Cyrus than to watch Hannah Montana, even if the chances of getting caught are equal.
On that note, another phrase to consider is “guilty pleasure.” This phrase is almost exclusively applied to music. What’s guilty about it? I don’t know.
I’m not trying to be judgmental. I’m just as guilty as anyone, and I’m not even saying it’s a bad thing to connect identity with taste in music. It’s just the way it is (or the way it seems to be, from my observation). The question remains: why?
