I’m tragically uncool when it comes to music. I’m not privy to neat new bands and I’m seriously out of sync with the Sydney scene. I think I’ve updated the music on my iPod once; it could almost pass as some sort of ancient artefact. I don’t pay for premium Spotify, and haven’t downloaded music since Limewire was a thing. I’m embarrassed whenever someone hands me an AUX cable or I’m asked to play DJ, my library is downright decrepit, and there’s only so many times you can pull the “let’s dance to retro” routine, trust me.
I have no consistent style, I don’t preference a particular genre or hold allegiance to certain artists. I enjoy an eclectic, indiscriminate mix of anything that makes me feel something. From shoegaze to Dance Hall Days. To prove this point my last three concerts were: My Bloody Valentine, Jon Hopkins and The Drones. Musically, they're miles apart. As were the sea of supporters at each gig, skinny leg emos to genuine dance hoes. I feel like a fraud at every concert; I’m usually propped up next to someone who knows every song from the back catalogue, is frighteningly familiar with the artist’s overall oeuvre and nuts about this specific style of music. I don’t fit in with any one subculture because my passion is subpar and diehard fans think I’m a hack.
I don’t frequent festivals; I’ve never sweat it out at Stereo or spent the night tripping at Splendour. I hate the idea of being high, covered in mud, surrounded by a bunch of gurning glitter covered gypsy’s with fucking bindi’s on their foreheads. I’m a creature of comfort, I like to be in my own home away from the munted masses murdering my favourite songs. I also really hate standing up for extended periods of time, hence my aversion to live acts. This doesn’t mean I don’t dance, I just do it in front of my TV (almost every night). My Youtube search jumps from Picture Plane techno beats, to a Credence Clearwater classic, or love song ballad. I don’t think a single song is ever played through entirely. My singing and dancing gets more vulgar, as the bottle empties and the wine stains grow. Yep, Ollie just loves this.
I guess I’m a situational songstress, I like songs to speak to what I’m feeling at that moment and I don’t care if they’re new or old, considered good or bad. I’m thankful that my liberal listening skills allow me to be adaptive in social situations, whether you put on Beiber or Bach, Nine Inch Nails or Nelly, Motörhead or Miley, I’ll be there dancing and pretending to know the lyrics all night. Music for me means having fun. And I really can’t stand music snobs. Judging people by their playlist is just plain pathetic. So you jam to the Jesus and Mary Chain, that doesn’t make you cool.
Don’t get me wrong, it is nice to connect with people via music, to share the same love for something. I was super stoked when I realised Ollie really liked Real Estate, one of my favourite bands. It was also pretty cool when we discovered we were both obsessed with Shirley Bassey’s Goldfinger, and spent the night drunkenly singing the song on repeat. But I really wouldn’t care if Ol was all about One Direction. Music is a deeply personal thing, and I want my friends and loved ones to feel free to fly their freak flags. Because I’m one daggy fucking Super Freak.