GiggySound

I have been sitting here patiently for months waiting for some letters to come in.  I thought maybe my work here was done. You guys were on the right track at last. Well, I couldn’t have been more wrong. I received a disturbing letter today from April Jones-Smith of Munster. Nice surname, by the way, April.  Obviously preserving a rich family history there. What a momentous day it must have been when those two lineages were joined forever by a hyphen! There hasn’t been a more dramatic pairing since Soccer met Moms. You honestly couldn’t expect anyone to choose just one.

Anyways, April writes:

Dear Sam,

My friends think my taste in music is absolutely unassailable. I read Pitchfork and agree with their reviews, right down to the decimal places. I buy vinyl, even though I don’t have a turntable. I prefer the Dee Dee Dums to Tame Impala. I’m white and I own Enter the Wu-Tang.

Lately, however, I find myself enjoying music that is neither unpopular, nor blogosphere approved. How do I keep these “guilty pleasures” from my friends so I don’t lose cred?

Yours sincerely,

April

I don’t know who started this “guilty pleasures” bullshit but god– it is some boring shit. It’s like that thing where people constantly refer to something as that thing. Or when adults refer to one another as “naughty” for eating a Snickers.

It’s not just a dull, overused phrase, it’s also a total puss-out.

“Sure, I like Phil Collins. It’s a guilty pleasure.”

Translation: “Sure, I’m aware this artist is uncool. I am still cool though. I call GP immunity.”

Number one, there is nothing less cool than trying too hard to be cool.

And two, what do you have to feel guilty about? You like a song? Have you told a priest? Nobody gives a shit what you like. Masturbating at funerals– that’s something you should feel bad about. It’s just as tiresome to hear about the artists you’re willing to go public with your affection for, as it is to hear about the ones you “secretly” like.

I put secretly in quotation marks, ‘cause people sure love to crap on about these songs and artists they’re supposed to be ashamed of liking. If you’re so embarrassed, why not keep it to yourself? Because you think having these taste blind spots makes you a rare, magnificent orchid that only blooms once a century? Well, it don’t. It’s also pretty fucking lame to base so much of your identity on how you choose to be entertained.

Now, you may be getting the idea that my advice is to JUST BE YOURSELF and if they were really your friends THEY WOULDN’T CARE about stuff like that. Let me disabuse you of that notion. If you like shitty music, you deserve to be made fun of. You don’t get a pass for calling it a “guilty pleasure”. You’re just having a bet each way. On the other hand, there’s nothing wrong with liking music that people think is dated or dorky, just don’t hide behind irony. It’s not that fuckin’ important.

Right, that’s it for this round folks. I gotta go fart on a baby. It makes me feel good and bad at the same time. Bye.

So what’s your problem? Don’t know L.A.M.F from LMFAO? Are you a man who wears his hair in a bun? A French backpacker? Send all your musical questions to samsmalebag@lifeisnoise.com and he’ll tell you exactly what you should do in every possible situation.