What did it?
Listening to the radio.
It's such an old-fashioned thing compared to the modern technology of satellite radio, digital music television, iPods, and Rhapsody. But terrestrial radio - transmitted over actual radio waves - continues to provide fertile ground for music discovery for me. And I'm not talking about pirate radio, or community radio, or even public radio. Most often, it's the big behemoth, corporate radio stations owned by companies like CBS and ClearChannel that introduce songs to me that I cannot get enough of.
A lot of folks who work in the music industry are considered - or are self-proclaimed - music snobs. It has to be very new or very old, esoteric or ironic, not too derivative or at least British in order to be deemed worthy of listening. But from the moment I was born, I've listened to and loved POP music, whether that (in the 1970s) meant country, disco, arena rock or soft rock, or (in the 1980s) new wave, hair metal, electro, or R&B. My favorites of all time are still Madonna, Michael Jackson, George Michael, Stevie Nicks, and Journey.
I consider my intellect and personality far from middle of the road, but give me your best MOR-formatted radio song, and I will EAT IT UP.
Anyone who owns a car or who has a driving commute to work has, at some point, turned their radio on. But living in New York City, where public transportation is a necessary evil and FM transistors don't work underground, you rarely get a chance to listen to the radio at all. And when you do - if your amplifier's signal is strong enough, your apartment building's walls thin enough, or your deli's overhead music is loud enough - you only get the tip of the iceberg in terms of music currently available. New York radio stations notoriously are the last stations in the entire country to add a single to their playlists, meaning a song can be a big hit in the rest of the country before you ever even hear it in New York.
Sure, maybe you get to know Arcade Fire (who I love) before the rest of the country. I saw Norah Jones play free shows at The Living Room (the old location) years before she became a big pop artist. Even Lady Gaga had her start on the Lower East Side. But most of the bands playing in New York - or talked about in New York - don't really go anywhere. Who will remember Clap Your Hands Say Yeah in 10 years, much less 50?
I myself prefer to debate the merits of Katy Perry's "California Gurls" versus Usher's "O.M.G." as candidates for Song of the Summer. I love memorizing the words to every cheesy R&B and hip hop song, and wonder why it took me three years to discover Kanye West's 2007 track "Flashing Lights" which is still played on the radio in LA. I love every Drake single so far, and Daughtry can do no wrong. The newly-added guest rap by Eminem to BoB's "Airplanes" made me cry from behind the wheel, because I, too, could really use a wish right now.
Ever since the emergence of pop art, there has been a long-standing debate as to whether something so commercial could really be art. But "pop" just really means popular, and in today's musical landscape, any weird thing can become a hit. (Cases in point: the above-referenced "O.M.G.," the Blackeyed Peas' "Rock Your Body," and Enur's "Calabria.") And just because something is intentionally crafted to be likeable and popular doesn't mean it isn't good.
Then again, just because something is popular doesn't mean it's good, either. And just because something is good doesn't mean it will be popular.
In the end, I don't care if what I'm listening to is considered good by people who supposedly know the difference. I love the way it makes me feel, and I love singing and driving to it, pumping the gas pedal to the beat and punctuating the rhythm with my hand on the steering wheel.
I thought that that made me the best candidate to work in the music industry, my appetite for pop so voracious and forgiving. But over a decade later, I think now that it made me the worst candidate. Or maybe I just haven't been working the right kinds of projects, with the right kinds of people...
