Discovery

I was excited about this post a bit earlier today. Turns out with a little more thought put into it, it became quite the formidable beast. Here's hoping that I can put more exposition to my thought process, and do myself some justice.

I wonder sometimes exactly how honest we are with ourselves. There's a certain image that we have to keep up, even when we don't think we have one. I'll always come back to the Jimmy Eat World reference, observing that "we're only just as happy as everyone else seems to think we are," because I believe it doesn't merely encompass happiness. We're only just as Indie as how we think others see us. Or as disapproving of invention, or as accepting of others, and etc. We find our passions, and grab onto them in an identity even if we're no longer "into" those passions anymore. To exemplify, I have realized these few things in my life:

1. Although when asked "What is your favorite band?" my response will always be "Brand New," I'm realizing more and more than my fandom is based solely on a sense of nostalgia that I'm slowly outgrowing.
   
2. Many, many times I dislike coffee and espresso beverages. But I still hold to the image of the coffee-holic, and I promote them as much as I can despite their obvious affect on me.
3. On a personal level, I have outgrown certain influences and interests. Yet I hold upon those prior interests to retain a prior commonality with others. I do like this though, that I can always hinge on what others and I USED to have in common. It's not a complaint as much as an observation.

This also relates especially to music, movie, TV show choice, and etc. I want to be seen as with the times on music. I listen to practically every piece of information Paste magazine will churn out, and I try to be objective. A good example of this is the new Arcade Fire album, where they gave it a positive review but I honestly think it's less than substantial. But then there are bands like Sleigh Bells, which push an auditory revolution that according to writers could be the future of music. I practically force myself to try these things, and try to like them no matter what. But the reality of it is that I honestly could care less about Sleigh Bells. They both please and offend my ears, and I guess I'm not ready for whatever sonic presence they may embody in the musical timeline. But I guarantee you if a friend mentions their name in a positive light, I will point out every positive facet of their album Treats. I may have my negative spin on a personal level, but why disagree on principle? Isn't it easier to find support for how people think than to accumulate your doubts into a legitimate argument?

How much do I do this? How much do people do this with me? I understand the basic human need to be liked and to have the same opinions, but I feel that we're approaching some strange level of post-honest universal thought. I don't want to bash on those who advocate the "all ways to heaven are valid," support-religious-freedom standpoint, because even though I'm a Christian I wouldn't see it as my duty to prosecute others for their beliefs. It's the Golden Rule, do unto others as you'd have them do to you. That's my honest opinion, yes. But once a theory is reached where any thought is a valid thought...isn't that opinion in itself supposedly becoming a "universal belief"? We're moving more towards a culture that universally accepts universal acceptance, that suddenly we're afraid to challenge. If somebody is positive, we give a list of why we agree. If someone else in the group disagrees, we can support both positions and struggle for a compromise. Maybe that's just me, but I see it more and more in people. It's coming to the point where I respect someone more for having a dissenting opinion than one which I believe in.

But I don't mean this in a "dissent and I agree" point of view. Because what matters here is personal opinion as opposed to a group's opinion. You will be more likely to reject an idea if you are aware of a collection of individuals who share your view. But how can you tell that the person scoffing at your pop-punk guilty pleasure is doing so out of personal opinion or out of a desire to speak for a supposed whole? Short answer: the person with the personal opinion will most likely not scoff. Or at least, they'll give reasoning in an objective way and shrug off the difference of opinion as exactly that. There's an inherent feeling of superiority somehow found in the set as opposed to the one.

So I guess, after for myself what feels like a rambling narrative, I just want to point out that we don't have to be what we've already declared ourselves to be. We're allowed to dissent against others in our set groups, and especially we should disagree with previous versions of ourselves. All of us are learning and growing, and it's a matter of overcoming pride to finally admit that maybe, just maybe Brand New isn't being played on my iTunes because I'm outgrowing them.

As I write this, I've changed from LCD Soundsystem, to Local Natives, to the new album by Lydia. The first I love purely out of the discovery, and that I've never much been into dance-y type music until this album. The second I started listening to because the internet told me, but luckily I can't stop, because it's just fantastic. The third album is a poor example of personal freedom, as I loved Lydia's earlier releases and by transition tried to love their new album Assailants. And the truth is, I don't like it. It's so disappointing to try without succeeding. The simple act of trying to like a new album by a band you once held dear is prone to failure almost every time. It's why I'm extremely scared about the next Ra Ra Riot, Hellogoodbye, Manchester Orchestra, and Jimmy Eat World albums. I am obligated by my love of previous discographies to at least listen to their new material. How will they hold up to nostalgia?

The Answer: Nothing holds up to nostalgia. Best rely on discovery, and best it be your own path.