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Pop snobbery


Ingunn

Temporarily settled in London, Ingunn studies for a BA Journalism and History, and is doing work experience with TheSite. Although she comes from the great land of the north, Norway, she finds London unbearably cold and tries to spend as much time as possible in warm and quiet art galleries. Having played one too many practical jokes on her flatmates, she has (unfairly) been branded as a notorious liar, and no one believes her when she says she has a profound phobia of big flowers.

The cooler-than-though alternative music fans are kidding themselves: pop is here to stay.

With Michael Jackson on trial it looks like pop music is finally dying with its king. And perhaps pop should be imprisoned for bad behaviour, too. At least that's what the music snobs want you to think. Recently, while picking up an old Kylie album (a second-hand snip at just £3), I suffered the scorn and insults from not only my friends, but also the person selling the record. The look on his face seemed to say: I can't believe you listen to this rubbish. It is this obsessive slagging-off of pop music has led everyone to believe there is no quality pop out there to enjoy.

So we all go around thinking that not only are today's pop acts as manufactured and artificial as Michael's nose, but there is no individuality in pop either. They look the same, sound the same and all have one object - to sell their product to as many people as possible before anyone reads the reviews. The basic problem is that we have been duped. Pop music is really important. Fair enough, Rachel Stevens hardly inspires anyone to contemplate the existentialist problems in life, but so what? That shouldn't stop us enjoying it.

We need this social outlet to accompany love and heartbreak; you know, the really big feelings of life. Love is the lifeblood of pop music, after all. So why then this misconception that pop music is inferior to obscure new-wave-rock recorded in someone's basement on a Sunday afternoon, pushed by a shaggy bloke at Camden Market?

"We are all supposed to be so responsible - buy organic milk, shop at a local cheesemonger and listen to obscure, culturally-rebellious music."

Why is it suddenly embarrassing to admit to liking Girls Aloud and buying their albums obsessively, preferably from a corporatist megastore, and carrying it home in an extra-large shiny plastic bag? It could be due to society's obsession with alternative lifestyles. We are all supposed to be so responsible - buy organic milk, shop at a local cheesemonger and listen to obscure, culturally-rebellious music. Pop music is like cheap sausages and instant mash. It's what we all really want, but it's not trendy or cool or socially responsible to like it. Like take-out pizza, pop has become a guilty pleasure that the in-crowd wouldn't dare admit to enjoying.

Perhaps it is all the music critics' fault? Or rather, the uber-trendy music mags that employ these miserable, boring old blokes who don't really enjoy music anymore because listening to lo-fi-guitar-grunge has put them in a perpetually despondent state of mind. Just picture yourself at the interview of a potential new music critic for the NME. First question: Do you like Dido? Answer: No. Disgusted sniff. Second question: Ever heard of the American Analog Set? Answer: They're all right, I guess. Slight frown. Hired. Another nail in pop's double box.

But pop isn't just a low-maintenance date; it can also be seriously good, well-crafted music. And it is this music that deserves a resurrection from the smelly swamp of musical snobbery. The quality of the music of, for example Kylie, Madonna and Robbie cannot be denied, unless of course, you are intent on repressing all music that is not alternative enough. Earth-shatteringly innovative? Perhaps not, but they are not trying or claiming to be Towers of London. Just don't come saying the music is dire or inferior just because listening to post-punk tantric rock has given you stomach ulcers.

It's time to stand up and shout (or sing, I'm sure you remember a couple of choruses although you wouldn't admit it in public) in the face of music critics and the bloodsuckers determined to take all the delight out of our secretly beloved tunes.


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