All this way to connect

And all the way to the corner everyday

You were there for me

But will you wait for the one that disappears?

Yeah yeah yeah yeah…”

The War On Drugs. Lyrics to “Disappearing.” AZ lyrics

I’ve been listening to Indie/Indie Pop/Lo-Fi/Dream Pop/Shoe Gaze/Whatever the next sub-term for that overpopulated genre is for now. It’s been suiting my mood over the past few months. The referenced song affected me with its tone and melody more than the lyrics, which are more mumbling than sung. Minor key stuff.

As is typical for my skewed mind, I began to wonder: Who names these various genres within genres? I bet it’s a group that includes Jack Black and John Cusack from High Fidelity, Jay and Silent Bob, Harold and Kumar (fresh from White Castle) and maybe the nihilists from The Big Lebowski plus Morrissey thrown in for good measure. They’re collectively sitting in the living room of a dingy one-bedroom apartment, smoking weed, eating sliders, stroking a ferret, and arguing about whether the current album on the turntable belongs in a main category, a sub-category, a sub-genre, or something completely different, to be named then and there.

Sounds like me, actually. Without the dingy apartment. Okay, maybe the weed. But definitely the opinion based upon the useless knowledge stuffed between my ears from reading all those album liner notes in my increasingly distant youth. Access to the internet only makes it easier to confirm my shaky memory because I can only remember 10 things now. I can’t even speak and type at the same time. 

I don’t really care how the music is categorized. I like what I like. And I’m transported.