I can’t stand music snobs. You know the types. You’ll start talking to someone you don’t really know at a party you didn’t really want to go to, eating food that isn’t “on your plan”, so instead of wallowing in eater’s remorse, you decide to turn the person next to you and start an uncomfortable and awkward conversation until one of you has to pee or spontaneously combusts from eating too many jalapeño poppers.
Your go-to question as you stand awkwardly hiding the fact that you’ve just double-dipped in a communal salsa bowl…?
“So, what kind of music do you like?”
It’s an easy question. Generally there’s no possibility of a political or religious debate that can turn even the decent of people into rabid, snarling dogs, eagerly staring at your jugular.
However, unbeknownst to you, you’ve just asked the most innocent of questions to a Music Snob. So when you ask: “What kind of music do you like?” you are in no way ready for their response.
First, they have to take off their black rimmed glasses, adjust one of their many scarves, sigh heavily and then rattle off some band that you’ve never heard of. Generally, these bands have ridiculous names:
The Purple Lunchboxes
Gas Cans on a Freeway
A Cheetah for my Antelope
(Sidebar: how do these people come up with such ridiculous names? I’d like to be a fly on the wall when this happens.
Guy #1: “So, we really need to think of a good name for our band.”
Guy #2: “Can we do this later? I’ve got a wicked-bad herpes flare going on. I don’t feel like singing.”
Guy #3: “That’s it! We’ll call ourselves The Flaming Lips!”
Guy #1: “Done. Let’s order lunch.”
Back to the party.
After the music snob has told you the many bands she’s seen at The Conservatory, The Blue Door, or Picasso’s Cafe, you respond with a “Huh, never heard of them.” After a horrified gasp, she looks at you like you’ve just drop-kicked a baby while wearing a coat made of kittens.
So when asked what music you like, you rack your brain trying to think of a band that won’t make you look like an idiot while still holding true to your tastes. You’d hate to start a fight in the middle of a party. Even though it might give you an excuse to leave—possibly with a police escort.
“Uh, The Beatles,” you reply. Play it safe. Everyone likes The Beatles.
“Yeah, me too,” the Music Snob replies.
You’re relieved. You let yourself mindlessly pick up another jalapeño popper. You’re just about to wash it down with some Diet Coke when the Music Snob adds: “But only on vinyl.”
You spontaneously combust all over her orange skinny jeans and sparkly TOMS.
(*I mean no disrespect to The Flaming Lips. I know they’re Oklahoma-bred, so even though I’m not their biggest fan, I still have Okie love for them. And for those of you that don’t get my sarcasm, I’ll give you some friendly advice. Get a sense of humor. They’re nice. They make life a lot easier.)