How can I stop being a snobbish jerk about music?
If you think the problem is your inability to refrain from commenting on music you dislike, here’s a solution. With your left hand, force your mouth open as wide as you can without hurting your jaw. With your right hand, hold your tongue. With enough practice, you’ll find you can hold your tongue without a helping hand. Otherwise, practice tuning the music out: occupy your mind with other things than what you’re listening to. On long rides, think through plans or thoughts or conversations you’ve left unfinished, or engage him in conversations that are interesting enough that he won’t mind it when you turn the music down a little (or even a lot). Learn to enjoy silence together. Or try listening to music that neither of you like: pick up some tunes you’ve heard are good, but have no idea how they sound, and present them as such. If the issue is “my music vs. yours,” the battle can be fierce, and the attendant snobbery can feel like a real putdown. Mount a campaign to mix up your tastes
Powerful Religious Baby has it. My favorite ex-husband liked only skateboard music when we met. He had heard of the Beatles, of course, but would have been puzzled to name three of their songs — and anyone more obscure than the Beatles was just unknown to him, unless they played skateboard music. He couldn’t get over the idea that I, his girlfriend, listened to Billie Holiday. He took that as more proof of my mindblowing wonderfulness — that I liked, genuinely liked, music that he could not get to at all. And he is groovin’ on some Geto Boyz, some Anthrax… And yes, it was more proof of his transcendent marvellousness — he liked that! So I went looking for more music that I didn’t like but he would and I found — Korn! He loved it! Then for one birthday he bought me the most pretentious artsy crap he could find — the Velvet Underground box! Like every soppy couple, we had “our song” —
So many things to touch on here: First off, I was the music snob in high school. My parents were music snobs; it rubbed off on me. I could go backwards or forwards on bands from Archers of Loaf to Zumpano. I made mixtapes nearly every week (Christ, why did I have no friends in highschool again). I ended up writing for ‘zines, then getting freelance work as a record reviewer, then got a column writing about music. Or, longer story shorter, my nickname was The Music Fascist, because I had rules and had no problem letting people know what they were (“I can’t believe you listen to that shit.”) This was mostly during the first wave of those bands your boyfriend likes. I was in 8th Grade when my first album was Badmotorfinger, so I know the grunge. And now, looking back, I can acknowledge that I listened to a huge steaming pile meself, what with Stabbing Westward and a fair number of grunge also-rans like Big Chief. But being the music snob became part of my identity, I got to like having th
I’m an insufferable music snob, but I find there comes a point where you realise that it’s so subjective that you can rant at someone all you like, it’s not going to change their tastes. With people I care about particularly, it just got tiresome and I got over it… Can’t really find the advice on how to, I just had to. The radio still makes me want to throttle people, but I tend to have an mp3 player with me so I can drown it out. Also, as a musician, there came a point where I figured that anyone who cared about music, no matter how bad it is, and anyone making music, again no matter how bad it is, is a hundred times more deserving of respect than those who put out dreadful, soulless, pop crap. If there’s heart there, I can respect it to a degree, and support it. I’d rather people loved what they are doing/writing/listening to than are in it just for the cash… So I guess it’s all about soul. If you care like that, and your boyfriend doesn’t have a soul when it comes to music, eith
