“A collection of profound and epic album reviews and musical articles by former astronaut and brain surgeon, Alasdair Kennedy. Reaching levels of poetry that rival Keats and Blake, the following reviews affirm Alasdair to be a prodigy, a genius and a god whose opinion is always objectively right. He is also without a doubt the most modest man in the universe.” - Alasdair Kennedy
I like music. Some of you who regularly read this blog may
have realised this. It's always nice to talk to people who share my passion for music. However, there are some fellow music fans who are not a joy to talk to. You've probably come across them before. Here is
a spotter’s guide:
The caveman gave up listening to new music in 1990 but still
believes themselves to be an authority on the current state of the music
industry. They take great pride in discussing the good ole’ days, back before
all that ‘rap crap’ and ‘thud thud club music’, back when musicians actually
played instruments and didn’t just fiddle around on a computer, back when you
could still smoke in pubs and smack children. Trying to convince them that
there’s still good music out there is futile. They don’t have time to Google
search ‘Royal Blood’. They don’t fully understand the internet and still type
with one index finger. Their favourite band is Queen.
Your dad is probably one of them.
The neo-caveman similarly despises all modern music, despite
being born after 1990. They believe themselves to be the sole guardian of a
lost art, regarding the rest of their age group as ignorant One-Direction-loving
Eloi. ‘Have you heard of the Rolling
Stones?’ they ask. They expect you to have never heard of the Rolling
Stones. ‘I was born in the wrong
generation’ they lament. 'My generation sucks'. Rather be born in the sixties, eh? Throw away your
smartphone then. Throw away your laptop too, the laptop that you use to stream
all that sixties music you listen to.
The hipster only listens to music you’ve never heard of.
They used to be a fan of The Atlanta Spoon Project, until you started listening
to them. Now they consider The Atlanta Spoon Project too popular, too mainstream.
‘They’ve sold out,’ they tell you,
sipping on a smoothie made from fruits you’ve never heard of, which they bought
from some vegan café you’ve never heard of. ‘I
liked them before they were famous, back when they only had 50 Youtube views. I
liked them before they were even musicians. In fact, I liked them before they
were even born’. Hipsters pride being individual over being themselves.
Fortunately, with ‘hipster’ becoming such a dirty word, this species of music
fan has become virtually extinct.
THE METAL ELITIST
Hipsters of the heavy metal universe, the metal elitist only
listens to metal bands you’ve never heard of. They live by a strict code, only listening to demo tapes from Scandinavian black metal groups
with unreadable band logos recorded in someone’s shed. Any band that doesn’t
fit this criteria – any band that has any kind of mild popularity – is deemed
‘poser metal’. This includes anything from Limp Bizkit to Slayer. None of this
is ‘true metal’. As for the whole Satanism shtick, the metal elitist naively
thinks it’s all serious.
Band logo must be unreadable
They’re wearing a Nirvana shirt
they bought in Primark, despite never having listened to Nirvana. ‘I saw them live in 2009,’ they tell you.
‘Kirk Coltrane is my idol.’ Their
efforts to impress you are adorably embarrassing. You wish they’d just admit
they don’t like Nirvana, that they prefer Calvin Harris. Give it a week and
they’ll be donning a Ramones tee, telling everyone how punk they are.
‘Isn’t the weather beautiful,’ they say whilst waiting in the line
at the Post Office. ‘that reminds me of
my favourite song, ‘You’re Beautiful’.
I do like James Blunt. I happen to have all his albums. CD, vinyl and cassette. Got
a lot of his merchandise too. I ordered a James Blunt Monopoly board today. Waiting for it now. I’ve even got a tattoo of his face on my butt. And a tattoo of his
butt on my face! I know everything about James Blunt. I know his favourite ice
cream flavour, the primary school he went to, his shoe size, his blood type –
you name it! I hope to meet him one day. Got an engagement speech planned and
everything. Can you guess what my pet dog’s name is?’. A combination of the
word ‘stalker’ and ‘fan’, the stan couldn’t be more polar opposite to the poser.
Their James Blunt tee is torn and faded. You will never be as big a fan as they
are. To them, you might as well be a poser.