Guilt -- yet another one of those emotions I'm incapable of feeling. The closest I've recently come was Beck's summer release, "Modern Guilt," an apocalypse-themed album sporting social and environmental awareness; but as much as I may try to mooch off of Beck's guilt, it's really his and not mine.
The role of guilt in music preferences is a strangely large one. The existence of guilty pleasures in music implies that enjoying the sound of an artist is not sufficient justification for liking that artist. What is it that disqualifies an artist whose music we enjoy from being acceptable to like and instead invokes a feeling of guilt and shame when we listen to that favorite song in secret?
Some reasons for not liking a performer despite liking his music can be classified as political preference rather than guilty-pleasure rationalization. For example, the group "sold out," your favorite band's lead singer left and founded a new band that you consciously decided to hate, or all the members of a band dyed their hair and got asymmetrical haircuts. In these cases, you've identified and are fully aware of the causes for disliking the band, and they have nothing to do with its musical abilities.
A guilty pleasure, however, is an artist that you enjoy but, for reasons not entirely known or decided by you, feel guilty for enjoying. Instead of giving the artist prominent placement in all of your favorite iPod playlists ("'90s Playlist," "Dance Playlist," "Rock Out When No One's Looking Playlist," "Driving to My Grandmother's House on Route 166 Playlist," "Trying to Look Reflective and Not Care What Anyone Thinks As I Listen to My iPod Playlist") or name-dropping at any chance you get, a guilty pleasure is one you only listen to behind closed doors, headphones securely in place and artist name desperately hidden from wandering eyes. It's the same type of shame you would feel from hiring a nutritionist and then hiding from that nutritionist in a linen closet while gorging on a freshly baked triple-layer, double-fudge, German chocolate cake. Mmmm ...cake.
We feel guilty about stuffing our faces with fat-saturated desserts because we know it's allegedly unhealthy (although that could be just another lie spread by the liberal media). But how do we know what music to be ashamed of?
In a lot of cases, the opinions of friends and people you respect have more of an influence over your publicly announced preferences than you would like to admit. If the prevailing judgment of your peers is that a certain artist to your liking is utterly lacking in the talent department, you're more likely to think you are the one in the wrong for liking that artist. If the general consensus of critics you respect is that one of your favorite bands is a disgrace to music, that band may be demoted to a shameful-secret shelf in your library.
Some people impose this feeling of guilt on themselves, however, when they enjoy music that doesn't live up to their own standards for "good music." If a music aficionado looks for an innovative, dynamic sound with rhythm changes, a forward-thinking use of skilled instrumentation and a break from the verse-chorus-verse formula, then an inexplicable and irrepressible love of Pink's "So What" might be kept under wraps.
Personally, I dislike the idea of guilty pleasures in music because it's okay to like bad music -- in some cases. Music serves different functions and carries different meanings for different people. If you only like music for the purpose of dancing to it, then it makes sense to be a fan of Cascada and not Radiohead (although it would be interesting to see a Radiohead dance party).
Even if you're a self-proclaimed music buff or enthusiast, it's understandable to know a song is technically "not good" but enjoy listening to it anyway. I have fits when I need to listen to bad electro-pop at 3 a.m., dumb screamo for a week or popular '90s hits to reminisce about my childhood (remember Sum41's "Fat Lip?" Papa Roach's "Last Resort?" Limp Bizkit's "Faith?" Good times ...). Then, there's no need to feel guilty about liking an artist if you understand the artist's strengths and faults and, most of all, why the entire package appeals to you.
I would like to warn you, however, that there are still performers whom it is not acceptable to like: Miley Cyrus, The Jonas Brothers, Hillary Duff, Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton. There's really no justification for liking these people unless you're five-years old -- and deaf. If you do like any of these entertainers, be ashamed. Be very ashamed.
Divya is a staff writer for The Mirror. Apparently she went through her fair share of angst in the '90s, but didn't we all?
