My music tastes aren’t cool and neither are yours.

Like many 20-somethings in the UK, I went through many phases throughout my high school life, ranging from the coveted ‘emo’ phase all the way through to the orange foundation, underage drinking in a park phase (sorry dad). As I progressed through my early voyage of soul searching my taste in music changed, well, at least publicly too. The first album I ever bought was Welcome to the Black Parade by the gone but not forgotten My Chemical Romance on my first ever trip to town with my friends in primary school. I looked on at glee at my obviously squirming dad in the car on the way home as I proudly played him the CD in the car, the disappointment glistening in his eyes. This love carried on into high school and was helped along by hanging around with totally cool friends who wore obscene amounts of eyeliner and smoked rolled up cigarettes with a roach instead of a filter for no good reason. I felt immensely cool so my love of the likes of Busted and A1 was pushed to the wayside to only be enjoyed strictly in the presence of my mother and no one else.
As I got older, classes in school started to get split into sets and we got to pick our GCSE options meaning that I was rudely thrust into a class full of relative strangers where my sweeping side fringe and panda eyes suddenly felt out of place. I started to slowly hang around with a whole new host of people at the weekend, I learnt valuable life lessons such as how important foundation and bronzer was, regardless of whether the shade matched your face. With a brand new outlook on how to present myself, my musical preferences also changed. The My Chemical Romance albums were thrown under the bed and I started listening to the kind of music that required me to very safely and very legally use in browser YouTube to mp3 converters to get them on my MP3 player. Out was the New Found Glory and in was the YouTube DJ mixes of songs that were around way before I was born but were suddenly cool because the vocals were high pitched and there was an awful dance beat forced over it. Although my public music taste was edging ever so slowly back towards what I listened to in the safe presence of my mother, I still wasn’t quite ready to admit that actually, the high pitched drivel kind of made my head hurt.
So now I’m the ripe old age of 21, my music taste is unashamedly varied. I’ll listen to pretty much anything and I’ve learnt that actually, you don’t have to conform to a strict genre. I can, and I will listen to A Day to Remember followed by a gut-wrenching rendition of Memories from the musical Cats and I will sing both of them with the same amount of force and gusto. Music shouldn’t be forced into neat boxes, your friendship group shouldn’t dictate your musical loves and you certainly shouldn’t listen to solely My Chemical Romance for 2 months solidly because you will subscribe to the ridiculous idea that there’s no such thing as ‘enough eyeliner’.

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