Arm-Chair Snobbery

There are a few things that bug me. Many of these are fairly common: a slow driver in the left-hand lane, a tiny gob of toothpaste in the sink, deliberate public belching, and people who start sentences with, "No offense, but..." Yet one issue that never fails to annoy This Guy are the legions of folks who fancy themselves music aficionados. I am not talking about the people who love, study, and follow music. I speak of those who gravitate to a band or an artist or a genre and feel the need to go all "amatuer music critic" on the rest of us.

You know the type, don't you? The kind of person who frowns on the norm. The kind of person who tells you that not only are you wrong for thinking "Sister Christian" is Night Ranger's best tune, but insistent that they have 12 other songs that trump it (none of which you have ever heard of.) I am talking about someone like College Caddy Guy.

Back in the summer of 1987, I looped in the summertime. One morning I was sitting around the caddy shack wasting time with a fellow 13-year-old, talking about how "With or Without You" was an awesome song, when College Caddy Guy shot us an arrogant "I am so above these youngsters but let me take this moment to publicly scorn them" glance. He proceeded to tell us that he had been listening to U2 for years and that The Joshua Tree was garbage, etc etc. Keep in mind this conversation took place in 1987 - the summer that Tree was released and U2 stormed into the conscience of mainstream America. "I don't even own that album yet," College Caddy Guy boasted, as if either my gold-shirted buddy or I cared. "I might not even pick it up." While the rest of the details are fuzzy, I remember him rattling (but not necessarily humming) off his favorite deep-cut U2 tunes, probably from War or Boy and familiar to only the die-hards.

Look, if you don't like the tunes - fine. But don't attempt to big-time me just to flex your self-perceived musical muscle. Never mind that The Joshua Tree went on to crazy commercial and critical success or that it can hold its own with some of the great albums of our time - that really isn't the point. The point is - College Caddy Guy is a goober. His snobbery is unfounded and his criticisms unwanted. If I wanted advice on what to listen to, I'd take the time to read Jim DeRogotis or Greg Kot, not some dude who spends his summers bathed in sunscreen, handing rich old men their putters. He's not unlike like the millions of goobers out there who say owning an artist's Greatest Hits compilation immediately makes your opinions on music moot. Where do they get off? As if purchasing The Eagles Greatest Hits, Volume One makes you a poser. Or that liking an artist's most commercially popular release disqualifies you from being a serious musical savant. "Oh. You WOULD like Synchronicity. That's so predictable." This happens a lot in college. You get the uber-goobers who see that you have Pearl Jam's Ten in your collection and assume you are a sound sheep. Why? Because I think "Even Flow" is a killer tune - like half the world does?!

I guess what I am getting at is this: Fondness for obscure or non-Top 40 bands does not give one a license to be a musical jagoff. Enjoy whatever your little heart desires. Isn't that the point of music, anyway - to provide each of us with a venue for escapism? In what other walk of life can you find so many different interests, sounds, personalities, emotions, and insights? One man's Kanye is another man's Boy George. Stillwater's Russell Hammond once stated plainly, "I dig music." Well, dammit Russell, so do I! I just don't dig the people who lecture me on it.

As sitcom father supreme Stephen Keaton said, "When I go out of town I expect a few mishaps. A broken glass, spilt milk on the rug...there was a KANGAROO in my living room." I, too, expect to encounter certain things that annoy me along the road of life. Consider music snobs my kangaroo. And they can feel free to hop-hop-hop their obnoxious asses out of my living room.

Join the Party

So I am going to do this. I am finally going to sit down and try and find a publishing home for the daily thoughts that jingle around my sizable head. Fun? Daunting? Potential Snooze-Fest? All of the above! So join the party. Bring a bottle of cynicism or a case of opinions. To be quite honest - I do care what you think. I mean it may not be of life-or-death significance to me, but I thrive on feedback.

What to expect? Well, if you are looking for answers to some of life's deepest mysteries, you are most definitely in the wrong place. I'd say you'll find the proper mix of daily head-scratchers, sprinkled with some pop culture, a few movie and TV references, and of course sports. Call it typical male buffoonery, but there will be an occasional thought on the games people play. It is who I am. Oh yeah...and some thoughts on life as I know it. That will be the fun part.

Bottom line: you cannot overstay your welcome at this shindig. Call it as you see it. If the black background is to depressing - let me know. If I am whining incessantly - call me out. If you disapprove of my assertion that Welch's grape soda is the quintessential road trip beverage - shout it from the heavens!

So the party begins when you arrive. I have no real ground rules, except that we remember the immortal (and quite timely) words of the dearly-departed Rufus, "Be excellent to each other." (Really? Is that how the "WELCOME" post is actually going to end? With a lame Bill and Ted quote?) See, I told you this would be fun!

Enjoy.