I'm never last picked...

A few weeks ago, I went to a quiz night. Normally, I associate quiz nights with a bunch of people who should get out a little more, and trivia buffs with bad body odour.

However, this quiz night was about music, so it couldn’t have been all that bad. Music, despite my sheer lack of rhythm, skill and… well… talent, is actually something I follow with some fervour.

I liked Elliot Smith before he decided to top himself. I enjoy the music of Nick Drake, and Muse are still the best fucking live band in the world today.

On the night, despite receiving constant ribbing from the MC, we all had an okay time. I guess the MC just loved the fact that we couldn’t come up with a decent table name, and instead ran with the moniker “Table Pi”. Oh we copped shit about that, despite the team name actually being the idea of the leggy blonde assistant to the MC. Go figure.

I personally wanted “Go Rock Yourself”, but was shunned down by my company.

But then again, our table name allowed us to throw little jokes in on our answer sheet with the numeral 3.142 blah, blah, blah.

And then there was the one way banter between the MC and our table:

MC: And there’s Table Pi, wallowing away in a pool of their own shame.

Me (calls back): Um… that isn’t shame!

MC: Moving along…

Me: *disappears under the table in a pool of shame, or something else*

Where was I going again? Oh yeah.

The various tables covered a myriad of different demographics. You had the music nuts of Three D radio, the table of music nerds, the super alternative we-know-shit-loads-of-obscure-bands-who-you-should-like-otherwise-we’ll-nut-yer people, the girls out for a lark, the young-uns who snuck out when their parents weren't looking, and the early-twenties trying something new.

And then there was us… the one’s with no idea whatsoever. Well, we didn’t come last. We didn’t come first, either.

Naturally, the questions were suitably obscure, befitting a crowd of such dynamic dimensions. Of course, there was something for the kiddly winks, just so they could get a point or two.

However, when going over the answers, something became bleedingly obvious to me, as a result of the subsequent boo-ing and flying insults whenever a pop icon was mentioned (I just edited this in... it was actually an important part of this post, and I forgot it. My bad.):

If something is popular… it must be crap.

I mean, I’m all for the death penalty for Gwen Stefani, but there must’ve been some point in time when people thought she was okay… you know, when she was playing in smoky bars, bouncing along to her music, stopping only to pull out her credit card, chop up some lines of cocaine and skull a whole bottle of cheap bourbon.

But I guess when it comes to music, the moment that someone appears to be about money, they are immediately branded “shithouse”. And in most cases I've agreed with it… U2, I’m looking at you. Take off your iPods for a second and listen to me.

Jeff Buckley was cool until everyone liked him. Perhaps one can only take so much of “Have you heard this song, Last Goodbye? It’s absolutely brilliant.”

“I heard it seven years ago, wanker.”

But I know that I do it, too - and I don't like it. The moment that something appears in the charts, I immediately start banging on about how crap it is. I’m the guy who says that the FooFighters latest drivel of music is a far cry from the brilliance of their earlier stuff, and that desire to sell records has corrupted their integrity.

And people want to punch me in the face.

Hard.

For fuck’s sake, it’s just music. Fuck principles. Fuck integrity. Fuck moneymaking companies and their quest to brainwash the kiddies to steal the pocket money they earned by mowing lawns, washing cars and making Nike sweaters.

I’m trying to turn over a new leaf; Just because something is popular, it doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s crap.

And leave Kirsten Dunst alone.