Music is the true human universal. Everyone, even the most miserable nihilist who hates everything, likes music. Just not everyone likes the same kind. They say you are what you eat, one man’s meat is another man’s poison, and beauty is in the eye of the beholder. If you somehow or other blend those old saws together you get what we’re after. Different music speaks to different people differently which speaks volumes about the listener to the rest of us. Here’s what all that speaking says about you:
You like hunting, fishing, dogs and beer. You do outdoor things indoors (rebuilding a transmission in the kitchen) and indoor things outdoors (sitting on the couch on the porch).
You drink classic cocktails, wear turtlenecks, and like cats. Your’e a square who imagines they’re hip. Or hep, you’re not quite sure which term to use.
Soft Rock, Pop
You are the type of person credit cards and the term “consumer” were created for. Everything there is to know about you can be gleaned from the logos, slogans and pictures on your wardrobe items.
You like black clothes, tattoos, big dogs, and ugly shoes. Some or all of which are festooned with a skull. On a scale of one to ten you go for zero or eleven.
How you like your music, clothes, jewelry, car, socializing, so on and so etc., can be summed up by the Oscar Wilde quip, “Nothing succeeds like excess.”
You’re a white, pot-smoking vegan who dresses like a 70s hippie. Except for the wool socks with sandals. You have a child named Dylan and keep a cat, parrot, goat or chicken named Woody.
You dress haphazardly and wish you were someone else, somewhere else, sometime else. That’s ‘cause you got the blues, man.
You’re a Baptist.
You like small annoying dogs and colorful scarves (for both you and the dog) and never go without product in your hair which is not its natural color. You have only girlfriends, whatever their sex.
You are calm and easygoing if not downright pliant. Or, more likely, you have no control over the sound system.
You like wearing red clothing, are overweight, have a big beard, and live up north. You’re a jolly, generous list maker who genrally likes most people, yet oddly enough only leaves the house once a year.
“Pop Goes the Weasel”
You drive a colorfully decorated, big, white, refrigerated Step Van slowly through residential streets all summer long and are very popular with little kids.
You enjoy sailing, are adept with sidearms, drink rum, speak with a rhotic dialect, have at least one prostheses and have probably had an eye poked out. You prefer monkeys and parrots to women in the workplace, and are deathly afraid of clock-eating crocodiles.
You have beady eyes, whiskers, a long hairless tail and are easily led astray by colorfully outfitted musicians. Or you’re a kid who’s also easily led astray by same. You probably live in Hamlin, or did at once upon a time.
You wear itchy brown robes, sandals, and have a funny haircut. You don’t listen to the radio or watch TV and aren’t reading this because you don’t use computers.
You are highly intelligent with excellent taste in most everything. You are good-looking and always well turned out. You are esteemed and admired by all.
You get one guess as to the kind of music we listen to.
© Terry Colon, 2017