Music and Relationships: There’s more to the people we love than the songs they sing in the shower

Music makes up the fabric of a lot of my relationships. My parents will always say they were glad to bring me up in London, simply because of the variety and easy access to concerts the city provides. My parents have been essential in shaping my taste in music, and I’m not alone in this.

I’ve been very lucky that my Mum was willing to slog through all the traffic and mud to take me to Latitude festival from the age of twelve until I was sixteen. Then Reading happened, and I’ve sworn off festivals ever since. My Dad has been living in Washington D.C. for the past four years now, so I don’t get to see him often. He doesn’t like D.C. much because they don’t get a lot of live music acts over there (at least, not ones he would want to go to).

Sometimes I think about how as a result of being close to my parents through music, my taste seems more reflective of a time capsule than a twenty-two year old. And though I can strike up a conversation with anyone who’s interested in the band histories of The Cure, New Order and Joy Division, I couldn’t tell you what’s new right now.

My parents have been essential in shaping my taste in music

I found out about Cardi B last week, and no I can’t name any of her songs. I dance at clubs. But unless they’re playing ‘No Scrubs,’ I’m just silently moving my mouth and hoping it looks like I’m singing the words. Which is probably why clubbing isn’t really my thing, it can feel like an in-joke that I’m not privy to, sometimes.

One evening, when I was about eleven, I was sitting with a few kids in the library, listening to my iPod. I had made friends with some of the older kids who hung back to cram for GCSEs, and one of them asked who I was listening to. They put my headphones in, sharing between them. As they continued listening to the song, their eyes widened, and for a moment I thought I saw the spark of curiosity, until one guy said, “Oh, so you like whale music.”

Sigur Ros do not play whale music.

So yes, I’ve been raised to be a music snob. And yes, sometimes it gets lonely. But recently I’ve been thinking about people who can’t connect through music at all, and how lonely they must feel at times.

It’s important to understand that music isn’t the be all and end all of relationships

I even see this in my Grandad, who has become extra picky about what is playing in the background during our family dinners. My Grandad hasn’t become averse to music, far from it. But there is a very narrow definition of what is considered acceptable in his eyes, or in this case, ears. Spotify became a blessing once we had scratched the Sinatra and Bocelli CDs to death. We’ve had to leave restaurants because they’re playing “trash.” We don’t really go out to dinner these days unless Grandad is suitably plied with wine.

I take my Grandad as an example of how being sucked into your own echo chamber of interests is fine on your own. But when you start enforcing them on others, it can affect the way people relate to you.

It’s important to understand that music isn’t the be all and end all of relationships. I know very few people who would take pleasure in the music styles of an Icelandic Post-Rock band who frequently use choirs and orchestras and play their guitars like cellos. I feel the same way about Taylor Swift. And that’s fine. The same applies to people who find both of these ideas a nightmare, or just boring.

My boyfriend had me at “I know Sigur Ros”

Let’s face it: if all your friends have the same interests as you, let alone the same taste in music, life would get boring fast. And I don’t know what I would do without my friends who take my speakers hostage and play Britney all night. Yes, my boyfriend had me at “I know Sigur Ros.” Maybe in an alternate universe, I fell for his love of aeronautical engineering.

There’s much more to the people we love than what songs they sing in the shower.