Chuck likes Styx.
Originally, I was going to post that line as a joke, taking a cheap, but friendly, shot at him for something his son outed him on. But I changed my mind. Instead, I’m going to use it as an example of something we all have to some extent in our musical tastes, the guilty pleasure.
We all have our Styx (or likely several of them). These are bands that we like for some reason that has little to do with whether they’re really good or not. Maybe we have a sentimental attachment that associates a song with a particular time in our lives. Maybe a song touches us in some way that it doesn’t touch others for some reason we can’t even explain. But there’s a big difference between having a few guilty pleasures and pretending these guilty pleasures are really great artists.
Hi, my name is Bob and I like America. I even saw America. I know they’re just a poor man’s Crosby Stills & Nash, but I like them anyway. Linda listened to them when I first met her. They remind me of that time. But I’m not going to argue that they’re great or important, because they’re not. If you don’t like America, you’re right. I admit it. You’re right and I’m wrong. But I like them anyway.
So, here’s the deal with guilty pleasures: There’s nothing wrong with having a few so long as you don’t try to pass them off as something they’re not. Just admit you’re wrong and go right on liking them. And willingly accept the mockery from your elitist friends. And dish out the mockery over your friends’ guilty pleasures. In the end, that might really be the larger purpose behind liking crap.