The Trials of a Music Snob with Basic Taste

Coming to terms with occasionally listening to Tame Impala

Image: Geir Wilson

On a recent Hinge date, I was asked what music I like. My answer went something like:

“Well, I like all kinds of music. I like… I like certain artists from different genres. I’m listening to a lot of new wave at the moment. But not only new wave. Like, have you listened to any DJ Koze? Or Nelly Furtado? Especially her stuff with Timbaland. So yeah, lots of different stuff. You know what I mean?”

She didn’t. There was a blank stare, followed shortly by an awkward goodbye hug. She didn’t respond to my messages the next day.

I hate that question. It should be simple; a relaxing ice breaker through which two strangers can find common interests and pleasures. Yet it flummoxes me.

Why? Well, I am a music snob.

I care about what the music I listen to says about me. It is why I waffle on, name-dropping genres and artists that I think will impress whoever is unfortunate enough to be listening. It is an off-putting, pretentious trait, yet one which I cannot shake.

Before I continue, I must add a disclaimer. I am not proud of what I am about to say. It is a result of ego, of a shallow desire to be the savant I quite clearly am not.

See, my pedantry is based totally in insecurity; I am a music snob without the taste to back it up.

Let me try explain. Modern musical currency is not about liking the right thing, but liking an obscure thing. There is a hierarchy of cool. At the bottom sits the maligned Ed Sheeran fan, eternally condemned for their love of anaemic musical chum. At the top are record-store hipsters, filling their tote bags with original 7” pressings of 1960s Albanian psych rock.

Then, somewhere in the middle, is me. I fancy myself as a lover and follower of music. I dedicate time and thought to what listen to; I am not a passive consumer. I look down on the Ed Sheeran fan. Yet, I can’t listen to Japanese noise rock or ska DEVO covers. I have tried, on multiple occasions, to get into Yellow Magic Orchestra, but I can’t. That embarrasses me.

My snobbery is so vicious that I judge my own music taste. I stop myself listening to what I like, chastising myself for being unable to appreciate and savour the complexities of “higher” art.

This isn’t helped by an artist’s quality having no relation to their social credibility. Take The Smiths. Morrisey’s crooning self-pity may not be to everyone’s taste – especially considering his more recent political commentary – but they are an undoubtedly influential and delectable band. Yet, probably due to their prominence in 500 Days of Summer, their music and lyrics are ubiquitous on Pinterest mood boards and coffee chain adverts.

So, era-defining bands aren’t necessarily cool. An artist has to be good, and little known – preferably the latter – further limiting my choices.  As I said, I am not proud of these self-imposed limitations. Frankly, it’s exhausting.

My snobbery and shame grew so intense I stopped listening to music for two-and-a-half years, from around the start of the pandemic until mid-2022. There were other factors, but it was mostly embarrassment. I was ashamed of the music I did like and unable to force myself to listen to the things I thought I should. So, I gave it up.

I can now admit to this ridiculous behaviour, as my music sobriety has lapsed. I beat my affliction. I downloaded Spotify for the first time and rebuilt a collection, some from my past and some new discoveries.

During my period of abstinence, my taste changed. This is not surprising because, of course, that’s how taste works. Preference is not a binary collection of social signifiers. It’s a cocktail of memory, mood, culture, irony and nostalgia. Why someone enjoys something is perhaps more important than what that thing is.

That is what I now aim my judgement at; the why and not the what. It’s still snobbery, but it’s a far better system, one which allows me to listen guilt free. I listen to HAIM. I’m even partial to some Tame Impala, and I’m not afraid to admit it.

I still can’t give a snappy answer about the music I like. My date patter still suffers. But at least now I have a nice playlist for the solo walk home.

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