Monday, March 2, 2020
Raining on Parades.
There are, of course, writers, musicians and film-makers I don't like. Even somewhere I question their talent. And, of course, there is always a matter of subjective and personal taste. I know someone who, if they don't like a musical artist, loudly declares how the music is complete shit - even if the person who is playing that music is standing right there.
All that can do is bring you down.
I recently saw a FaceBook post from someone who declared how much they enjoyed dancing around their house to Mariah Carey. Her music lifted their spirits and made them feel free and happy. Personally, I'm not a fan, but I was pleased this person had found pleasure in music.
A few years ago I was away for a writers weekend. Someone took it upon themselves to look at the playlist on my iPad, and inform me in no uncertain terms exactly how terrible my taste in music is. Why did they feel the need to do that?
I occasionally see someone posting about movies or books I love and again informing me just how terrible they are. Once there was even the comment that if you liked that film, you have no understanding of film or comedy. So that person is the universal determiner of quality?
A couple of years ago I shared a post about how Oasis were on the verge of reforming. Someone immediately commented, "Who cares?" Well, I do. That's why I posted it.
Each of these instances brought me down, just a little.
And this happens a lot in FaceBook groups. People are very quick to comment how much they hate something, think it's rubbish, or name call over tastes. It seems like we all have a need to feel superior over our refined tastes.
I have a good friend who told me he doesn't have any guilty pleasures. If he likes something, he'll just play it, watch it, read it, and doesn't care who knows. And I think that's great.
Enjoy your art, no matter who produced it. Me, I'm going back to listen to my Bay City Roller albums.