Aural Sects: Never Dare A Duke

Let's do this: banish the idea of "guilty pleasures" and the "so-bad-it's-good" mentality. They are both intertwined. They are both extremely misleading.

This all has to do with Barry Manilow.

Copacabana is a ridiculous song. And I love it. I love it because it's cheesy and catchy and because it is a wildly stupid attempt at star crossed lover storytelling. But can I really say that it's a guilty pleasure, that I love it because it's so bad that is holds no value?

In order to declare something bad, or suggest that something is valueless, it must present no form of value to one's aesthetics (by something I only mean what could be considered an artistic endeavor [of course I would not classify murder as good if it was deemed pleasurable {this would also include any activity considered harmful to human beings}]).

We could say that a song is bad according to an accepted standard but, when discussing music, literature, film or any form of art, standards are so fragmented and diverse that it's best to adhere to one's own proclivities and not rely on a notion as fleeting and fickle as an artistic standard. So if some kind of pleasure- even if it that pleasure is a byproduct of cheesiness or irony- is derived from a song than it must have value in accordance to the listener whoever that may be. Therefore a "so-bad-it's-good" argument becomes null and void.

Well that's over with. Let's get this guilty please idea out of the way. It's a little easier.

If you like something, a song, a movie, a book, then claim it. Please don't hide behind calling it a guilty pleasure. Like what you like and feel no guilt. There is no accounting for taste.

Why did I write all of this? Because recently I've become wrapped up in a nasty habit: nostalgia. In lieu of pursuing the new I've taken refuge in the gone by. Late 90s Top 40, music that I could barely stand when it was popular, songs that echoed throughout the gymnasium as we sweat and awkwardly swayed with each other in a hormone induced stupor, is my new playlist. I do not know why I'm listening to Paula Cole and liking it now. I honestly cannot pin that down. At first I tried telling myself that these songs were so bad that they were good but I could not reconcile that argument. The idea of guilty pleasures is the denial of one's self and I have no use for it. So how to account for this? Don't know. Don't care. I'm having fun with it. You should too. That's why I've listed my exact playlist below. Think about Jngos, Kangol hats, Surge, TRL, Monica Lewinski, the animal cracker scene in Armageddon and frosted, spiky hair. Cringe a little. Then succumb.

Aural Sects

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Never Dare A Duke

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