Moving On From My Favorite Band

There are two fundamental questions we face as music fans that cut to the very core of our identities; What is your favorite album?, and What is your favorite band?

It's easy to fall into reflexive patterns where we settle on an answer when we are of a certain age, and let inertia take its course. The way our culture talks about love, we don't always remember it is malleable, and the idea of permanent and enduring love is a bit of a fantasy. In order for love to last, the relationship needs to stay relevant. That can come in the form of new albums and new songs that deepen the attachment, but it can also be as simple as finding those old songs resonating in new ways as we make our way through life.

Despite my penchant for over-thinking everything, I am as guilty of this as anyone. I settled on my favorite band twenty-five years ago, when the music was fresh and I didn't have all that much experience diving into being a fan. It was absolutely true at the time, and since then I have maintained the same answer because it felt comfortable. I assumed it was still true, but I didn't do much introspection to ensure it was. Giving the rote answer was fine with me.

Life doesn't allow for much to be etched in stone, however, as even the hardest rock slowly erodes with time. Over the last fourteen years the aforementioned band hasn't released an album, the edges of the carving they made on me have indeed softened as the sands of time have blown over them. Being a figment of the past for that long has indeed impacted my thinking, as I spend enough time listening to new and recent albums that the old favorites become more of a comfort food than anything. Some of them stay fresh in my heart, while others slowly lose their flavor.

A few years ago, I made the realization that my favorite album of all time had changed. It was obvious to me for a while, but it wasn't until I contemplated the nearly 10:1 ratio of times I listened to the new choice versus the old choice that I admitted it. Consistency may be a virtue in some places, but not all. Loving the same album for your entire life more than any other does not bestow us with any credit. It is far more virtuous to take stock of life, to admit things have changed, and to embrace where you are now.

And so, that brings us today, where I am ready to admit that after all this time, my favorite band is no longer my favorite band. Of course I still love their music, and it's not as if they're slipping far down the list, but I can't lie to myself any longer and say that theirs is the most important music in my life. Times have changed, I have changed, and the feeling those albums gave me is no longer the feeling I need.

I mentioned the concept of comfort food, and that is where this decision comes from. In recent times, I have relied on favorite albums to get me through times when my mood needed to be lifted up and brought back from the recesses. Music might not have always been effective at doing that, but my old favorite band was less successful than many others. There was now a disconnect between them and me, which I can't say is inevitable, because where I have ended up is even more nostalgic.

Maybe it was always true, and I simply got tired of having to explain myself. I can say now, as I did thirty years ago, that my favorite band/artist is the combination of Meat Loaf and Jim Steinman. Together or separate, the style and songs those two created are not just the core of who I am as a music fan, but it is the music I still reach for when I need music the most.

Part of me hates saying that, because reverting to my very first musical love feels like I am tossing aside everything I say about critical thinking. However, you can't explain away feelings, and my philosophical studies had actually led me years ago to the belief that what we consider ethics are largely emotions put through the pretense of logic. In that sense, it rings quite true that I should find myself making the case on emotional terms. That is what we are, at our core. We are emotional creatures, not rational ones.

So if you ask me today, this is my answer. If you ask me tomorrow, perhaps it will change to something else. What I can say for sure is that I won't be giving the reflexive answer any longer. I will be honest with myself about what I love, because now that I have stepped over that line, there's nothing left to fear. I can be a mess of confusing, ever-changing thoughts, and that's ok.

The music told me this decades ago. I'm just starting to catch on.