I recently had a brief exchange w/ Revolver Magazine editor Brandon Geist via twitter in which I chided him for being excited at the prospect of a new Cobalt record after he had publicly praised the new Staind album approximately one month ago (give or take). Obviously I don’t know Mr. Geist personally, but given the nature of 99% of the bands that are covered by his magazine, I just couldn’t resist flipping the guy some shit over this, as it’s in my nature to give folks a hard time every so often (keep in mind, there’s a fine line between a little good-natured ball breaking between dudes and being a fucking obnoxious troll, I was going for the former). I was surprised when he actually responded to my teasing, and our conversation quickly turned into a brief discussion of the merits of certain nu metal albums. I said I should write a piece on nu metal for THKD and bum out my readers. I was only half serious about that last bit, but the exchange did get me thinking about the ridiculous concept of “guilty pleasures”.
You see, I’ve always hated the term “guilty pleasure”. Why should someone be made to feel guilty for liking something? Because other people don’t like it, or don’t have the balls to admit to liking it in public? Well, fuck other people. I like what I like and I make no apologies for any of it. Wouldn’t all of our lives be better if we could be free to enjoy things w/o worrying about whether or not others are going to piss on our parade?
If you looked at my CD rack right now, you’d find Darkthrone’s entire discography. You’d find everything Glenn Danzig has ever put to tape. You’d find albums by Celtic Frost, Voivod and Napalm Death. You’d also find Static-X’s Wisconsin Death Trip and (hed)PE’s Broke. If these aren’t instant underground metal cred-killers, then I don’t know what is. Yes, I like those Static-X and (hed)PE albums, and I’m not ashamed. I don’t hide them under the bed or lock them away somewhere where they won’t contaminate my “real metal” albums. Something about Static-X’s ultra-crunchy-club-banger-disco nu metal and (hed)PE’s dunder-headed-yet-catchier-than-herpes rap-metal swagger rubs me the right way (on those specific albums, at least) and makes me want to shake my ass (but, watch myself) and I don’t give a flying fuck who knows it. You got a problem with that?!
But in all seriousness, what are people so afraid of? Are you really that concerned about how other people are going to judge you based on your tastes? No one should be deciding what is “good” or dictating your tastes but you. I admit there might have been a time when I cared what other people thought, but at thirty-one years, “I’m gettin’ too old for this shit” to quote Roger Murtaugh. If people are going to pass judgement on you based on what music you listen to, what movies you like, what books you read, etc, chances are they’re petty, pretentious, not to mention all-around shitty human beings who aren’t worthy of your time to begin with. Why waste your time hanging around a bunch of pricks that are going to call you a “pussy” for blasting The Very Best of Prince? Crank up “Little Red Corvette” and tell ‘em to get bent.
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Here’s the conversation between Geist and myself in full, in case you wanted to read it.
This Sunday, Wrestlemania 29 emanates from the MetLife Stadium in Rutherford, New Jersey. I remember the days when I used to get pumped for this event every year; the Super Bowl of professional wrestling, the clash of the spandex clad titans. Starting with the Royal Rumble Pay-Per-View, which traditionally kicks off the “road to Wrestlemania” by determining who will challenge for the heavyweight title in April, the anticipation would build across weekly installments of Raw and Smackdown, as the storylines progressed to a fever pitch, with the performers putting everything they had into whatever feud they were embroiled in so that their inevitable collision at the showcase of the immortals would be an emotionally charged explosion of hard-hitting action.
