I’ve made no effort to hide the fact that I’m a well-educated individual. I even say I earned my degree instead of “got” or “acquired” it. I know that sounds pompous. I just want to emphasize the fact that heroic effort and cunning was involved. It’s this attitude, I think, coupled with the fact that I studied something artsy-fartsy like #music that often gets me labeled as an elitist. That and the top hat and monocle I’m always wearing.
Truth is, I can understand why people would believe that about me. I’m not entirely careless with my opinions, but I’ll broadcast them to anyone who’ll listen, and I have certainly been known to inject esoteric musical facts randomly into ordinary conversation. Lots of people do this sort of thing within their own respective areas of interest and knowledge, not necessarily to appear brainy but, I suspect, because they don’t want to let all that obscure knowledge go to waste, especially if it cost them and arm and a leg in student loans. Somehow, doing this with a universally loved topic like music earns the distaste of a lot of people. Some react like they would after hearing Dave Brubeck riff bi-tonally in “Blue Rondo” because apparently using a singular Dorian scale was too old-fashioned for him. Go figure.
I’m reminded of going to a #beer festival with my friend Matt. See, I’m from Colorado, the Holy Land for beer lovers (in the USA, anyway). We boast more microbreweries per capita than any other state in the union and feel we can speak with some authority when it comes to beer. Like a good Coloradan, I’ll wait in line ten minutes or more to taste a masterfully crafted India Pale Ale brewed with four different strains of hops. Matt, however, is content to chat with the representative from Rolling Rock while she refills his glass for the eighth time. For all you under-aged readers out there, drinking Rolling Rock is like drinking a glass of skunky seltzer water that slowly blurs your judgment and dulls your neural receptors. And for those of you who’d prefer another #jazz analogy, let me put it this way: Rolling Rock is the Kenny G of malt beverages.
I, being the well-mannered sophisticate I am, can’t help being baffled by Matt’s behavior. We both paid the same amount of money to get into this enchanted wonderland of frosty-brewed goodness, we were handed identical tiny glasses to fill up to our hearts’ content, and even with a formidable offering of choice beverages at hand, he happily sips a “beer” that could be purchased at any gas station in a hundred-mile radius. Trying to hide my disgust, I attempt to persuade him with detailed descriptions of my full-bodied ale with light floral and citrus notes and a subtle piney finish. He remains serenely unmoved. Raising his glass and clinking it gracefully against mine, he sagely utters the following adage: “It’s all beer to me.”
Seeing the bright, copper-colored contents of my glass contrast with the pale, watery yellow of my friend’s seems like an appropriate metaphor for what I felt at that moment. My opinion of quality, regarding music, beer, or whatever, has no more value than anyone else’s, even someone who lacks my experience, training, and snarky demeanor. Why? Because there is no definition for what is “good” and what isn’t. Few things in this world are black and white. Quality depends and has always depended on who you ask.
So Matt’s not a fellow subscriber to Hops Monthly. He may prefer over-carbonated gutter drippings to brewed brilliance, well-done to rare, and the Harry Potter movies to the books. He might even consider Nickelback to be a decent band. As tempting as it is to heap scorn upon his philistine choices, it’s impossible for either one of us to be right or wrong.
To really put things in perspective, I should point out that Matt is a commercial airline pilot. His skill set and area of expertise allows him to operate a piece of machinery that freaking flies. It seems more than a little idiotic to use my background as an excuse to ridicule his opinions when people literally trust him with their lives every day. I mean, no one has ever died in a fiery blaze because they didn’t understand the complexities of asymmetric meter, right?
I know I’m an elitist in certain respects, but I’ve made peace with my elitism. It’s who I am. I’ll still rant about the topics I care deeply about and generally try to persuade people over to a similar way of thinking to my own. But I hope to always keep in mind that there’s plenty I don’t know and I hope there’ll be a few elitists who can point the way when I’m in need.
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