Your Mileage Varies
What really, really puts me in the mood to listen to my music is being forced to listen to someone elses music. Like, if I am at over at a friends house and they have some experimental neo-electro folk falling out of the speakers (which actually sounds kinda intriguing, post typing). That’s when I want to go back home and concentrate all my attention on aurally devouring Prokofiev PC 2, or Shosty 15, or the Grosse Fugue. It’s a bit of a “my music is better than yours” kneejerk, except it’s more of a slo-mo Matrix timefreeze knee extension than a jerk. The more the electro-folk plays, the stronger the urge gets.
The MMIBTY bias is a really strong one, and it seems pretty universal. It’s the same with movies. I’m consistently stunned into little bits and pieces when someone who I think I know pretty well turns out to have a freakin’ bizarre taste in music or film. Of course, it’s only freakin’ bizarre by my own blinkered standards. They’re are probably feeling just as WTFey about MY taste.
And sometimes it happens even when a huge amount of your tastes overlap, I think it’s a law:
No matter how much you have in common with someone there will be at least one thing they love which will make you want to commit violence.
Well maybe violence is a bit too strong. Perhaps light battery. You know, like when you saute instead of deep fry.
I know I know, variety is the spice of life, blah blah. It’s the differences which make us unique and special, and liable to frolic with rainbows and unicorns and crap.