Like what you like

On postmodernism, culture and taste...

When you are in the “getting to know” phase upon meeting a new person, an easy starting point for most conversation is ‘what music are you into?’ The standard response is usually ‘all kinds of stuff’, which with a bit further probing can often be pinned down to whatever is on Radio 1 or whatever is on offer at Tesco: a fairly narrow range. But there are others, and I would include myself in this, for who ‘all kinds of stuff’ really means just that. Personally I’m “into” everything from classical to punk via house and many stops in between. Does this make me somehow a better person? No, of course not.

I grew up playing classical music in orchestras and listening to old 60s/70s guitar bands at home. After the typical pre-teen dalliance with pop I found Britpop/indie and began playing in rock bands, and from here my taste exploded in every direction, seeking to discover and try as much as possible. Today I absolutely love radio shows such as Nick Luscombe’s Late Junction on Radio 3 and the Sunday morning show with Cerys Matthews on BBC 6 Music, both of which delight me in providing a deluge of material of any genre you can imagine that would never have previously crossed my path.

What I can’t stand is people decrying any artist or genre just because it’s not to their personal taste. Justin Bieber is not rubbish, he’s just not your bag. Similarly I find it hard to fathom those who appear to force themselves to like things out of a desire to appear more cultured and right-on. It’s OK to like Girls Aloud: they produce fantastic pop songs. It’s OK to dislike African music: it doesn’t make you a racist or any less of a liberal, if that’s what you’re striving for.

While studying English at university, I fell upon the concept of postmodernism and as is my wont took some bits that I liked and applied them universally to everything. Generally speaking I was not a great student, in that I did not particularly enjoy the studying aspect. I loved reading and writing, but I hated the academic study of literature and literary criticism, feeling that enjoyment should always take precedence over the whys, wherefores and hidden meanings (perceived or real). Dr Mary Klages at the University of Colorado sees postmodernism as ‘...rejecting boundaries between high and low forms of art, rejecting rigid genre distinctions,’ a view I took and applied to the nth degree. Pushed to extremes you could, as I try to, say that nothing has any intrinsic value – take everything as you find it and like what you like.

Postmodernism of course is a critical concept too, and here’s where it probably loses me. I am not always keen on some of the elements of what are considered traits of postmodernist literature –chaos, pastiche, rejection of grand narrative, fragmentation and all kinds of other craziness. In fact another philosophy I latched onto at university was the New Puritan Manifesto, which itself rejected many of these features of postmodernism, espousing pure narrative storytelling in its basest form. That said, look at any list of what are considered postmodern novels, and you will find some of my favourite authors: Kazuo Ishiguro, Don DeLillo, Kurt Vonnegut and Italo Calvino, to name a few. Sometimes I’m in the mood for some surreality, sometimes I’m not.

Back at that time I also used my postmodern approach to reject the canon, eschewing the classics, carrying a fairly infantile opinion of old = boring = bad. Thankfully I have mellowed somewhat in recent years, even giving Dickens a go and discovering that there’s a bloody good reason that he is considered in such high regard. I still recall though being bored pretty much to tears at university by the works of some other notable names in the literary pantheon. I still don’t recognise the canon as such, but I would no longer discount a work just for being part of it.

I suppose what I’m getting at in this piece is cultural snobbery, the scorn of some people towards another’s personal tastes, and how ridiculous it is. In terms of culture, the arts, any forms of entertainment, I’ve come to be of the opinion that nobody should ever be criticised for what they like. As long as people have a passion or enjoyment for something, that should be enough. Personally I can’t stand Dan Brown’s writing, but I can appreciate why it appeals to many. Not many in the world of high-end literature would have much good to say about him, but I wouldn’t criticise anyone for enjoying his novels. At least they are reading.

Film is another medium very much open to this kind of discrimination. Personally I do not like action films, these days finding them dull, formulaic and predictable and difficult to enjoy even on an ironic, disconnect-brain level. But I know plenty of cultured folks who will happily keep going back to the cinema for the latest blockbusters, and I fully admit that there are some in the genre that I love. Whether you appreciate the work of Fellini or the American Pie series really isn't important as long as you enjoy what you watch.

Culture and entertainment are such subjective concepts. I have friends in the music and fashion worlds who to put it politely can’t comprehend my obsession with sport, and likewise many of my football comrades would struggle to see the appeal of poetry or arthouse cinema. Some weekends I feel like getting drunk and watching lower division football while on others maybe I’ll prefer to wander around an art gallery for a few hours. I know plenty who would make fun of me for either choice. Ultimately, what’s the difference? It’s all entertainment in the end. To anyone unsure about trying something outside their cultural comfort zone, I would quote the philosophy of Steve Coogan's character Pauline Calf: ‘If you like it, do it. If you don’t like it, do it – you might like it!’

Here is your homework...

To read:

Tales From Ovid  – Ted Hughes

Goalkeepers Are Different – Brian Glanville

Other Voices, Other Rooms – Truman Capote

To watch:

Office Space – dir. Mike Judge

Le Souffle ­– dir. Damien Odoul

The Angels’ Share – dir. Ken Loach

To listen to:

Maman a tort ­– Mylène Farmer

Piano Concerto No.2 in C Minor (Op.18) – Sergei Rachmaninoff

Lipstick Lickin’ – Milburn