Mr. Cope’s Cave: More “My Musical Taste Is Way Better Than Yours”

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Over the course of my blogging career—which is now about four months short of a year, by the way—I fear I may have conveyed the impression that I have no respect for and hold no appreciation for any music produced in the last… oh, let’s say… 30 years.

That is mostly true. I’d estimate it to be about 95 percent true. So if you think of me as the crabby old fart who creaks around the house and bitches about “Whatever you wanna call that shit those useless kids listen to these days… just don’t call it music,” then you are right. I am that guy.

You may also have been put off by the title I have given this music video series, “My Musical Taste Is Way Better Than Yours.” I wouldn’t blame you for being offended, and I’m sure it doesn’t make it any better for you to know the statement is true.

So if you think of me as a third-degree snob when it comes to the musical culture, I applaud your perception, if not whatever irritating crud you have playing on the car radio. Of all the many, many things I am picky about, I am pickiest about music.

But that’s not to say I don’t try, on occasion, to find something relatively new that doesn’t make me feel like gagging up my Ensure. I certainly don’t trust what anyone says about a new band or a new sound or a new concept, especially if that person is young enough and inexperienced enough to think that “a new concept” is four different chords in one song. I’m not the sort to rummage through iTunes or go out to a club to hear another variation on three guitar players and a ham-fisted drummer bellowing something about how disaffected they are with ____________ (fill in the blank).

But as it does in so many other fields, PBS has provided us with a way to expand our musical horizons without leaving the house. I’m talking about Austin City Limits, the long-running show that has showcased just about everyone who deserved being showcased (plus more than a few who didn’t, but I’m making an attempt here to be positive). Saturday night, I always check out who’s coming on, and as often as not, am pleasantly surprised by what I hear—in spite of so many groups that seem to have chosen their names by throwing a dart at a dictionary, or bands that think having a damn fiddle player on stage somehow adds to the pleasure of listening to them.

Austin City Limits is where I first heard Rodrigo y Gabriela. "Wow!" was my first impression, and it has only amplified with every new number I hear them perform. Pardon me if I was a Johnny-come-lately to something you’ve known about for years, but my series is called “My Musical Taste Is Way Better Than Yours,” after all, not “Nyah Nyah Nyah, I Heard It First!”

Incidentally, if you’re one of those benighted souls who think if a song ain’t got words, it ain’t a song, you might as well skip this video. You won’t understand how good it is, anyway.

And before I go, on behalf of the entire state, I’d like to thank our Idaho Public Broadcasting for bringing Austin City Limits to us for so long. And as a personal note from me to them: Are you telling me that midnight on Saturday nights is the only damn time you could find to air that show?