All about sincerity: what is good music?

Flashback to the Land Rover battling the wind as it drove from the bright lights of L.A. into the cold night of Mammoth Mountain. The wind beat against the covering in a way that reminded me of some of Skrillex’s more disorganized works. The stereo was cranked up to its highest volume to try and out-roar the thundering road noise. I was placed in charge of DJ-ing the long drive.

People in the process of getting to know me often struggle to label my musical taste. I can talk about my favorite guitar heroes of the ’60s, beloved girl groups from the ’40s, Australian rap, political hip-hop, current glam rock and punk with such fervor that it comes as a surprise when I fawn over popstars like Taylor Swift and Selena Gomez. I love it all. Yes, even country. So you can only imagine how sporadic and varied my DJ set was as I controlled the phone and how confused the poor soul driving was as she listened.

By the second or third hour, my driving companion -— who had only known me for a few weeks — made a noise as if the punchline of a joke she’d been told earlier finally clicked. She turned to me and said, “I get it now. I get what your music taste is.” I raised my eyebrows and asked her to elaborate. “Sincerity. You like music that’s sincere.”

I smiled as I pressed play on the next song and pondered what she had said.

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t an epiphany for me as much as it was for her. I’d always known the music that resonated with me most was the music that seemed authentic, but I started wondering why that was. Everyone loves to relate to what we consume, but how did I find this sincerity I related to in so many different styles and genres?

I thought back to the first time I ever had a musical experience; to the first time a song hit me as more than just a melody, but as an actual coherent message. My dad played “Lost in the Supermarket” by The Clash. I just remember looking at my dad and saying, “Yeah! This!” The simplistically technical ability paired with Joe Strummer’s subtle, raw vocals created a song that went beyond being lyrics and a tune to become this personal moment I shared with four guys I had never met.

To me, sincere music is a song or an album that you relate to not because it reminds you of a feeling you’ve had, but because it gives you a feeling complete in and of itself, regardless of whether you’ve had it. Let me explain what I mean: “Thank You” by Led Zeppelin is a great example. I’ve never been in love. The time I first heard the song, I’d never even been in a relationship, but it quickly became a song I related to passionately. Singer Robert Plant sings a love song that broke grown men’s hearts and here I was, a prepubescent teen — yeah, I bloomed late — identifying in a similar fashion. When I listened to the song, I wasn’t listening because it reminded me of a specific crush or because I’d been through the same thing; I was listening because Plant sang in a way that evoked a feeling of tragic beauty. And I knew that feeling well. It wasn’t his voice or Jimmy Page’s guitar skills, it wasn’t the percussion or the bass. It was an entire emotion wrapped up and placed neatly in my headphones just for me.

Music has come a long way and it has further to go. There’s rarely an entirely unique song anymore. One Direction borrows from the Who, 5 Seconds of Summer borrows from Duran Duran and Nicki Minaj borrows from old slavery songs. Electronic music is constantly innovating and new sounds and techniques entice the generation, but when it comes to making stars, it’s about what’s real. It’s not genre — as much as hipsters like to claim it is — it’s authenticity. From Adele to Kurt Cobain, the musicians we love to hold on to are the ones who pour their hearts and souls into what they make. The beloved conductor Leonard Bernstein once said “music just is.” I’ll go one step further — sincere music just is. It’s not broken down into its components or its message. It just is the feeling as the music vibrates through your skin. It just is the emotions evoked into your chest. It just is the connection that you find, for those brief, few minutes with the sound pumping in your ears. Music just is.

 

Recommended Playlist:

“Back to Black”

– Amy Winehouse

“Trap Tears”

– Raury

“Sloppy Seconds”

– Watsky

“Holes”

– Passenger

“This is Our Science”

– Astronautalis

“Body Love (Part 1)” and “Body Love (Part 2)”

– Mary Lambert

“My Body is A Cage”

– Arcade Fire

“Unfinished Business”

– White Lies

“Kronos”

– Keaton Henson

“Commes des enfants”

– Coeur de Pirate

Malorie McCall is a junior majoring in philosophy.  Her column “Mal’s Mix” runs on Fridays.