Satire: How to listen to music in a not-lame way (like me)

We’re about three months out from the year’s most anticipated media holiday and you people are beginning to relax again. In the mornings before your 8 a.m. class, you open your phones with sticky iPad-kid fingers, searching for the perfect song to play.

You cast bleary eyes upon your liked songs playlist, fumble for your headphones and put noise cancellation on, so you don’t have to hear the thunderous sounds you’re making that wake up your roommate.

“Ah yes,” you think, selecting something even the Almighty turns his eyes from with abject horror. “Today I’ll listen to George Salazar’s classic, ‘Michael in the Bathroom,’ from my favorite and most lovable show ‘Be More Chill.’”

You might think you’re safe. But somewhere out there a 12 year old is making a fanart animatic to your song choice. It’s brutal, evocative, well drawn. It’s also the first step towards juvie.

That weird kid will inevitably be ostracized by their peers for being weird and nerdy. To fill the void of their friendless life, they’ll probably dye their hair blue and start posting political content on their Instagram story. After that it's an instant pipeline to doing things like shoplifting from Target and cocaine.

In the time since Spotify Wrapped has dropped, you’ve all become complacent. Every day, I log onto Spotify to witness some or other of my ostensibly named “friends” listening to such garbage atrocities as the Glee Cast’s recording of Radiohead’s “Creep,” or Broadway’s “The Lion King” soundtrack. It’s an all out cringe-fest of a cappella vocals and blatant disregard for the finer things in life: social currency and the good opinion of your peers.

I’ve polled many experts to ask them the root cause of this epidemic, and have received varying responses from pundits and thinkers across the political and musical spectrum. Most of them included statements such as “Just let people live,” and “What even is this project?? "Are you serious??”

I decided to move on from the insignificant rhetoric of geriatric know-nothings and onto a more trusted source of information: UNC students.

A dude I confronted in the Pit said “Get out of my face.” Another guy I found outside Chapel Hill’s beloved burnt-down Med Deli (forever in our hearts, may it rest easy) said, “I don’t know, I just listen, like, to what I vibe with? I guess?”

Bad response for a man whose daylist title read “Yearning loser Tuesday morning.” 

(Just so you know, mine was titled “Just left your mom’s house awesome person afternoon.” I’m better than you.)

As spring rolls in, people tend to let themselves believe myths that they’re told by the internet such as “enjoy what you like,” “other people’s opinions don’t matter” and, most dangerously, “no one actually cares about what you’re listening to.” The weather warms and so, too, your opinion of yourselves. This is pure delusion. I care. I’m looking. The less esoteric your playlist name, the less indie and underground your listening activities, the less I value you as a human being. Reflect on this: every time you click on Viral Hits, an angel loses its wings and falls, screaming toward the rocky earth.

Sheeple, this is your time to wake up. I want you to care about your image every day. I want you to imagine, every time you listen to music, your middle school cohort locking eyes with you. That’s right. They know who you are. But do you? Can you confront it? Can you really?

Maybe try listening to something actually good, and seriously underground, like Tame Impala. That would probably help you out. 

@dthopinion | opinion@dailytarheel.com