Don’t Do That: Kiefer Roberts’ open letters to the campus community

Kiefer and Beyonce. Illustration by Alicia Toldi.

Dear Fellow Recovering Tryptophan Addicts,

Thanksgiving break is a great time to think about presidentially pardoned turkeys and men in tights running into each other in thirty-degree weather, but it’s also a great time to think about what makes you grateful. Be it a significant other, a Black Friday purchase or, you know, family and friends, we should always consider what we’re thankful for. Though another great practice is thinking about what we’re not grateful for – three final assignments on the same day? No thanks. How about those torrential downpours on the first day of December? I hope Mother Nature got a gift receipt! Some of the things I’m least thankful for are those judgmental reactions people get all because of their taste in music. Let’s think about this for a bit, shall we? Cue the holiday music.

Before we begin, you might think to yourself, “doesn’t he write open letters that essentially judge everyone around him?” and to that I say NEIN, NEIN, NEIN. I merely give suggestions/advice/drop Kanye-size knowledge bombs. I’m aware that my judgment of people who are judgmental is inherently hypocritical. That’s some truth serum I’m willing to swallow because I’m so damn tired of people turning their opinions into canonical declarations of what’s good and what’s bad.

Do I enjoy the current state of the radio? Not entirely. But do I choose to tell you about it whenever someone says the word “dynamite,” “airplane,” or “paparazzi”? I get it, you’re opinionated, or at least you would be if the latest edition of Spin hadn’t informed every view you hold. But would it kill you to follow instructions and just dance? It might dislodge whatever it is that seems to be fossil-deep inside your colon.

That’s the first thing about judging people based on music choices. If the responsible individuals really had formed their own opinion that Kings of Leon was the new U2 instead of Rolling Stone, or if they actually had loved attending a Sleigh Bells concert rather than reading reviews, then I’d be gung ho to listen to them ramble incessantly about the sad state of pop music and rap culture nowadays. But unfortunately they’ve got nothing to say and a lot to regurgitate. So back off my love of “All I Want For Christmas,” my friend. It’s festive, it’s in season, it’s a classic, and it happens to be loud enough that I can’t hear anyone bemoaning the music industry.

I love enjoying new acts before they gain notoriety—there’s a certain exclusivity to it, I admit—but hearing those new acts being played by a group of freshmen girls doesn’t suddenly detract from their musical talents. If you like Bon Iver or The Bridges so much, then why don’t you marry them? Or at least stand by them when their songs are played in Hyundai commercials? “Sell Out!” someone will cry. Well I’m playing the world’s smallest violin for you, my friend, because commercialism is pretty much inevitable. But don’t worry—you’re preventing that act or band that you love so much from receiving any kind of money from all the pirating you do and the videos of concerts you watch on YouTube, so congrats. Fight the power.

It all comes down to a goddamn individual decision. No one likes everything, but that doesn’t necessitate a need to hate everything. If there aren’t any actual instruments being played, I hate it. If it appeals to numerous people, I hate it. If Pitchfork or Entertainment Weekly loves it, so do I. Spare me the looks that scream “Really?” when you can hear “Single Ladies” blaring from my headphones. Before that, I killed cardio at the gym to LAZRtag and Boys Noize, and I’m going to be doing homework to Robyn later. Where’s the harm in finding pleasure in both? Yeah, I listen to bands you like, too, but you wouldn’t know that because you’re too busy writing me off as a quality-hating, mass-market appreciating bullshit lover. Don’t be so hasty, judgy pants.

And there it is: the biggest pet peeve I have is the assessment of people based on their tastes. Am I a Communist because I like Coldplay? Is that really how Paul Rudd knows I’m gay? Well, that would have been helpful to know in high school. To assume my sexuality, my level of intelligence and my other interests based on my iTunes library should get you mauled by a bear. An Alaskan bear…that Sarah Palin is riding. Do you want that to happen? Then STFU about how much this kind of person listens to this kind of music and so on.

Not all hipsters love Animal Collective, not all ladies love Justin Bieber, and not all gays love Kylie Minogue. And even if some or most do, you can’t just assume that their music trends strictly follow the genres of those artists. Even here at Connecticut College (gasp!), people do have different tastes in music, so Passion Pit isn’t on everyone’s iPod. Have I made this clear to everyone? Great.

I’m not saying stifle your opinion on music. I’m just suggesting that perhaps we should jump off our pedestals and acknowledge that someone’s idea of bad music and someone else’s idea of bad music are often different.

All of this said, you should really listen to Kanye’s new album. It’s fire. Even Pitchfork says so.

Best,
Kiefer •