Last weekend I was at a family get-together. Somewhere along the way MP3 players became a popular topic, which caused my dad to pose the immortal question, “Who the hell cares what’s on my iPod?” Now chances are pretty good if you’re reading a music blog you already know the answer to that, but pretending that you don’t since I can’t think of any other way to open this up: it’s because it allows you to know a person without actually knowing them.
For example, if your iPod is loaded with songs from Type O Negative, Burzum and Scandinavian death metal sensation Vordghackf, it means you have you several pentagrams carved into your arm, like to write overlong and half-racist internet dissertations on why “rap music” sucks, and it’s only a matter of time before you shoot up the post office you’re inevitably working for. If your iPod is loaded with songs from George Jones, Daddy Yankee and Godsmack, it means you’re going through a mid-life crisis and can’t decide whether you want to want to embrace a conservative adulthood or put up the façade that you’re twenty years-old again, ‘cos god forbid that you should accept your age and move on. Finally, if your iPod is loaded with nothing but Ani DiFranco, it means you’re one of those feminist types with a butch haircut, lots of beads and a huge ass (stolen courtesy of “That’s My Bush!”).
