You have terrible taste in music.

But it’s okay, I do too.

All of us do really, at least according to most critics.

Music criticism exists for a reason – to let you know whether or not to bother listening to an album. But as elitist music media trickles its esteemed opinions from lofty Pitchforkian heights down to us commoners, I feel I have to take a stand.

So let me just say this. Music is music, music is subjective, and music doesn’t need to be anything more than what you want it for.

If you want music to mean something, seek it out.

If you want music to dance to, seek it out.

Whatever you like, stand proud and make no excuses. But if you want music to laud over anyone else as being superior to their tastes, keep it to yourself.

I read an interview with Gotye the other day where he said the music press would pick apart the songs from his new record that best suited their needs – for example, pulling out ‘I feel better’ and branding him with the tag “straight up Motown soul” – and then judge him by that label.

It's easy to judge. What's not easy is the laborious task of making a record.

An artist puts years of their lives into a record and spends thousands, even millions of dollars producing something that – regardless of genre, style and taste – is their best. The funny thing is that the music held up to the most scrutiny and scorn, pop music, is the most difficult to make. Multiple writers, producers, musicians and engineers work on these records, dedicating years of their lives and millions of dollars, just for you to sit and call it bland, unoriginal noise… when you could have, maybe, I dunno, just shut up and like what you like.

Take Bon Iver’s ‘Skinny love’. Released a few years ago on the album For Emma, forever ago, this track was an indie darling, was critically acclaimed, and was the Sound of new indie folk (not that I'm saying that this was the artist’s aim, but once a song’s released it's in the hipsters' hands). Just this year a singer by the name of Birdy covered it on piano and took it to the charts. Now everyone wants to cover it (I’m looking at you, Ed Sheeran). ‘Skinny love’ has shed its cardigan and become fair game for anyone.

The point I’m trying to make is that this song, and all songs, are malleable. They are a structure in which to interpret. If Bon Iver had performed and released Ke$ha’s new album, it would be lauded by a completely different target market to the one that Ke$ha rules now. And you might want to call bullshit here – but take any “Like a Version” cover featuring an indie artist doing a pop song… everyone loves it.

All I’m saying is, music critics: be constructive. Nobody deserves the review of a picture of a monkey peeing in its own mouth (Pitchfork vs Jet). And most importantly: wannabe music critics, do what my friends do with me. Bond over your similar tastes, and ignore what you believe to be their musical indiscretions. Because sure as shit there’s someone out there who thinks your music taste is too old, too mainstream, too indie, too loud, too sooky sooky lah lah… what really matters is a passion for music and the knowledge for every artist that it only takes one pretty British songbird to ruin your song’s precious street cred (tongue firmly planted in cheek...).

So thanks to my amazing friends who let me get away with half critically panned music tastes, because I love Ke$ha’s new album, but damned if I’m not going to see Morrissey two nights in a row this weekend with the best dudes I know.

Later, Haters.

MOOSE