Exposure to the Arts

Today’s generation is often described as the ‘me’ generation.

I believe a more accurate description would be the ‘i’ generation, considering iPods are essential and an iPhone assures you are even cooler.

That said, it is widely accepted to have that one embarrassing song on your iPod, you know- Braithwaite’s Horses or that Ketchup Song. An embarrassing play list disguised as ‘workout’ music even- that is socially acceptable.

The entirety of my iPod however, is not.

On more than one occasion, by more than one person my music collection has been laughed at and labeled “shamefully embarrassing.” I will admit, anyone who takes a casual scroll through my collection would probably draw conclusions that I’m either a 12 year old girl who’s heart belongs to Zac Efron or a middle aged business man reminiscent of his surfer teens with my High School Musical soundtrack and best of the Beach Boys compilation. So like most unwilling to expose their true selves in fear of rejection, guaranteed humiliation or in my case the continued degradation of my music credibility I took precautionary measures to ensure no one would discover the truth- I enjoy pop music.

For an extended period my iPod sat idle in fear of someone catching a glimpse of Britney Spear’s Sometimes and when I would muster the courage to listen to the Jackson Five in a public domain, I would make sure before turning my iPod off to change the screen to a generally reputable song- the Beatles and Stones were default choices. I exposed myself to the arts filling my twenty gigabytes with combinations ranging from Mozart to Cradle of Filth to appear musically educated and appreciative of the differing genres but found myself shuffling over at least six songs before being dealt a tolerable one let alone one I actually enjoyed and all because I was scared that with the rejection of the songs I truly liked, people would be rejecting me as Charlie Parker states “Music is your own experience, your thoughts, your wisdom.”

No one is to know that the Alvin and the Chipmunk theme was my first dance recital, that every time T Shirt’s You Sexy Thing plays I am reminded that for years I thought the line read “I believe in mercles” (I have no idea what I thought a mercle was) and to this day am consequently reprimanded by friends of fifteen years. No one could appreciate that Jesse McCartney was not only a shared high school crush but also my first concert or that the 90’s anthem Stop summarises the decade of my life constituted by Spice Girl birthday parties if I don’t tell them. With the realization that I cannot be accepted let alone rejected if I don’t expose my true identity I reset my iPod to default and started afresh.

No longer does Alexisonfire meet Adam Brand instead I am happy to nestle Justin Timberlake between Joshua Radin and Josh Pyke knowing that some will appreciate and some will scoff.

In hindsight my exposure to the arts has not only introduced me to my closest friends from whom I still receive messages with random McCartney lyrics when a film clip is replayed but through Uncle Kracker car karaoke, Celine Dion ballads and Styx Mr. Roboto dances it has strengthened relationships with my parents and twin brother. Most importantly is has shown me that in exposing yourself you provide the opportunity for someone else to expose a little bit of them as well, even if it is through the rejection of your favourite song so really you have nothing but gains to make.

I’m not suggesting you need to karaoke your Kanye on a 6am commuter train or declare to the world your ownership of Olivia Newton John’s discography (kudos though if you do) but in exposing yourself through your once disguised music tastes, withheld political views, religious beliefs or perhaps your sexual orientation the naked truth is - some will appreciate and some will scoff. 

Who needs scoffers anyway?

~ this article was published in 'Grapeshot' magazine Issue 10, 2009.