r/LetsTalkMusic

"Does Gen Z not care about Elvis Presley?"

"Are people forgetting about The Doors in modern discussions?"

"Is R.E.M. irrelevant to younger music fans?"

"aRe tHe bEAtlEs bEiNg foRgoTTen by mOdErN mUsiC fans??!!?!"

Chill, the quality of music isn't determined by the number of streams or how many Gen Z'ers have heard of the artist. Just because your preferred band from the 70s doesn't have +20 million monthly streaming listeners doesn't mean they weren't important. We are forgetting the most important opinion when it comes to music: your own. As long as you still enjoy the music, why get antsy or upset that newer music listeners care more about Bad Bunny and Billie Eilish over R.E.M./Dire Straits/U2? The older bands had their glory days and moment in the sun and the same thing will happen to Bad Bunny/Sabrina Carpenter/The Weeknd when they are overtaken by next big pop stars & bands.

Bigger picture, won't even the biggest music acts be forgotten to time? Are we expecting the people of 2126 A.D. to care about Ariana Grande or Travis Scott? The 1960s were only 60 years ago, which isn't even a long time in the grand scheme of things and we still remember a lot. (Assuming humanity is still here) it would be interesting to see what music from the 20th/21st centuries is still interesting or relevant to people born centuries from now. We might be surprised by what music we currently consider "important and relevant" actually sticks around considering how little music from the 1600s is relevant in our lives.

I'm not religious. I'd call myself an atheist. But I'm half Black and currently live in the South. My wife is religious and said her church is always looking for more drummers (even though they have a few) so I decided to join the praise band for fun. And wtf, it was not what I expected!

It's super high energy, everyone is shouting and dancing and singing, and the drumming is QUITE technical with lots of feel as well, especially during the praise breaks. Lots of rudiments, chops, dynamics, linear drumming. A lot of the best drummers today came out of the black church playing this kind of music a la gospel chops. I've done a few drum shed sessions with the other percussionists at the church and we take turns playing the kit.

I thought church worship music would suck from what EVERYONE said but at least at my black church the music is objectively very good requiring semi virtuosic talent to pull off on all levels - singing, drumming, keys, other instruments etc.

I still am non religious, but I think it's categorically false and a lie that church music sucks. I think a lot of atheists don't know what they're talking about and say incorrect things. I'm doing this just for exposure and having an outlet to perform live (my old band broke apart due to people moving to new cities), and there's been zero pressure on me to convert to Christianity. It's a win win for me.

Why do people do this?

I get that bands need to appeal to casual fans who want the greatest hits, and that these shows don't really serve to sell albums anymore, but I wish there was a better balance.

I'm going to catch Cheap Trick in a couple of weeks, so I was checking out what their set lists have been like lately. They've been on a great run for the last four albums, but they're only playing one song from any of them, and sometimes not even that. The rest of the set is at least 35 years old, and I've seen them play it all a bunch of times.

I have to imagine the audience showing up for acts this far into their careers has to have some interest in recent songs, right?

Doesn't necessarily have to be a person, it could also be like a streaming/YouTube recommendation.

For example, I noticed for me I usually don't follow-up on a recommendation when I know that person has a massively different music taste that my taste doesn't really align with or when they've consistently recommended music I don't have a taste for, even when they show me some songs that I kind of do like in the moment, but wouldn't necessarily listen to on my own.

It's kind of intriguing though because in the dozens of songs they've shared with me, 2-3 of them I've actually really come to enjoy and saved, but it's rare given our very different music tastes, so I generally find myself not fully engaged when they recommend me music or deeply go into the context of it.

And then for someone else who's music taste does intersect with mine, I find myself following-up more with their song recommendations and more frequently finding songs from them I enjoy.

As for digital recommendations, it usually has to hook me quickly in the beginning with instrumentals I enjoy/be a song from someone I'm familiar with, or I'll just skip and don't end up giving the rest of the song a try.

Hello. I used to listen to softer genres like pop. I saw some people call pop and mainstream music shallow and boring, so I thought I might as well listen to other music as well.

Specifically I've been listening to rock and metal. Mainly alternatives. (not pop rock or whatever)

Since now the melody/hook was the main reason I liked a song. I've been noticing some of rock and metal music don't have them.

How do you decide if you like a song in these genres? I genuinely don't know how to listen to it. I know it sounds stupid but I just don't get what's good about these. (no offense)

Were They Might Be Giants actually kind of revolutionary?

This is something I’ve been thinking about lately: They Might Be Giants have always struck me as much more musically and lyrically radical than their presentation would suggest.

On the surface, they can sound almost aggressively harmless: goofy, nerdy, understated, lo-fi-ish, melodic, and often deliberately silly. There’s no obvious rock-star posturing, no grandiose sense of importance, and very little of the “we are changing the world” attitude that usually accompanies the word revolutionary. A lot of their songs sound like little jokes, observations, children's songs, absurdist sketches, or deliberately trivial pieces of pop music.

But that's almost the point.

Their songwriting has this very strange combination of rationality, absurdity, sarcasm, deadpan humor, and genuine musical craft. They can take something completely ridiculous and present it with the seriousness of a scientific observation — or take something mundane and make it sound bizarre simply by looking at it from an unexpected angle.

Songs like Particle Man, Istanbul (Not Constantinople), Birdhouse in Your Soul, Don't Let's Start, Ana Ng, She's an Angel, The Statue Got Me High, etc. don't necessarily sound revolutionary in the traditional sense. But they seem to have helped establish a vocabulary for a kind of alternative songwriting where being clever, weird, funny, emotionally detached, and poppy could all coexist.

And I wonder if their influence becomes more obvious when you compare them to a lot of post-2000 indie music.

A huge amount of modern indie has that somewhat towned-down, understated, self-aware, sardonic quality. The vocals are often deliberately un-grand, the arrangements can be simple or slightly twee, the lyrics can be observational or ironic, and there's often a kind of “I'm making a song about this ridiculous little thing because why not?” attitude.

Obviously, TMBG didn't invent irony, nerdiness, lo-fi music, quirky songwriting, or indie pop. And there are plenty of other artists who were doing similar things before them. But they seem like an unusually early and concentrated example of something that later became much more normal in alternative/indie music: the idea that you don't have to be cool, macho, tortured, profound, or conventionally “rock” to make sophisticated music.

What's especially interesting to me is that their silliness doesn't necessarily make the music less sophisticated. In some ways, the silliness gives them more freedom. They can jump between genres, structures, lyrical perspectives, and subjects without having to maintain a serious artistic persona.

So I'm wondering: were They Might Be Giants actually more musically/culturally revolutionary than they get credit for?

Not “revolutionary” in the political sense, obviously, but revolutionary in the sense that they helped normalize a particular kind of intellectual, absurdist, sarcastic, deliberately uncool, pop-oriented indie songwriting.

Or am I retroactively giving them too much credit because their style happens to resemble a lot of indie music that came later?

I'm especially curious how people who listened to them in the '80s and '90s perceived them at the time. Did they feel genuinely weird and groundbreaking then, or did they mostly just seem like a particularly funny/quirky alternative band?

Between Poppy and even Halsey doing an industrial metal song it seems like more and more young women are making metal music. I’m an old Gen Xer and this wasn’t at all the case in the 80s and 90s. The only one I sort of remember is Holy Moses, they had an excellent woman vocalist back in the 1990s. And if Courtney Love hadn’t done Grunge and instead went full metal she would’ve had an awesome voice for it.

Has anyone else noticed this trend? And for those who are Gen Z, do you notice some Gen Z women listening to metal? I was just at an Iron Maiden/Megadeth show and it was basically all older folks. The youngest ones were Millenials in their 30s and it was 85% dudes. Great show though!

I’ve been thinking about the relationship between what an artist intends a song to mean and what a listener personally takes from it. What prompted this was properly listening to Chappell Roan’s Good Luck, Babe! for the first time a few days ago.

I’d heard parts of the song in passing on Instagram Reels before, but I had never actually sat down and listened to the whole thing. Since then, I genuinely haven’t been able to get it out of my head. I’m a straight guy, and I absolutely love the song. Musically and emotionally, everything about it works for me, but I’m especially obsessed with the outro and the way the song gradually winds down. There’s something about that ending that hits me every single time.

Because I became slightly obsessed with it, I started reading Reddit threads, Twitter posts, Instagram comments, and other discussions to see how people reacted to the song and interpreted it. Most of the discussion understandably revolves around queer identity, repression, compulsory heterosexuality, and someone trying to deny or suppress their sexuality. That is how I understand the song’s central narrative, too.

That meaning was apparent to me when I first listened to it. I understood the narrator as addressing another woman, and I’m not suggesting that the song is secretly about something else or that its queer meaning should somehow be replaced by my interpretation.

What I find interesting is that, emotionally, my brain takes the song somewhere completely different.

For some reason, I strongly associate it with mental-health struggles and the experience of trying to suppress something inside yourself. The central idea of desperately trying to push away a feeling that keeps returning makes me think about knowing that something is wrong internally while continuing to behave as though everything is normal.

Even the parts of the song about going out, being with other people, and trying to move forward register differently for me. I imagine someone throwing themselves into social situations, relationships, distractions, or whatever else they can find because they’re trying to convince themselves that they’re okay. From the outside, they might be socializing, meeting people and apparently living normally, while internally they know they’re struggling and aren’t really confronting it.

That obviously isn’t the literal narrative of Good Luck, Babe!. But every time I listen to it, that is where my emotional interpretation goes. I understand what the song is describing, yet it has somehow attached itself to a completely different experience in my own head.

And that made me wonder more broadly about how we interpret music. My tentative view is that a personal association can be meaningful without being a claim about what the lyrics literally describe. But I’m unsure whether ‘interpretation’ is the right word for that distinction.

I also wonder where people draw the line between interpreting a work and simply projecting onto it. If the actual lyrics clearly describe one experience, but the emotions, imagery or general themes make a listener connect it to something else entirely, is that still an interpretation of the song? Or is the song simply becoming a vehicle for an experience the listener already carries with them?

How much weight do you personally give to an artist’s intended meaning once a song becomes meaningful to you? Can a personal interpretation be completely legitimate even when it is quite far removed from the literal narrative of the lyrics?

I’m particularly interested in songs where you understand the artist’s intended meaning, but the song has nevertheless come to represent something completely different in your own life. What in the music or lyrics creates that connection for you?

I was just driving in the car with my step daughter and her boyfriend.
I was expecting that they’d be listening to rap or some hybrid pop/country music but they were playing rock.
Not what I would listen to but it was tolerable.

Anyway, they would get through about half of the song and then switch to another one. Next song starts and same thing.
On a twenty minute ride I didn’t hear one complete song.
Is this a generational thing?
Has social media conditioned them to have the attention span of a flea?
This is not the only time I’ve witnessed this.

What is up with this?

This song has always gotten mixed reviews for a plethora of reasons. (the original lyrics, the video, Michael Jackson’s reputation at the time, his allegations, legal trouble etc…) However I think the song is an all time great protest song. I think he did a great job getting his messages and social commentary across while the song is still catchy and digestible. At the time of its release this was probably the most bold song Michael Jackson had done, and I think a lot of people didn’t know how to take a song like this from him at the time. But the song has had great legs and staying power with over a billion views on YouTube. I’d say it became more liked later on then it was wen it was first release.

David Bowie famously expressed his admiration for Lulu by proclaiming it a masterpiece and Lou’s best work – and I agree to a large extent, although it seems that this remains contrary to popular opinion.  I often still find Lulu frequenting lists of “worst albums of all time” on the web, and I guess that’s understandable because it’s not a pleasant album – far from it.  In fact, it is a difficult, bizarre, depraved, morbid, long and sometimes inscrutable, yet endlessly intriguing Frankenstein of an album.  It can be a lot to take in and not everybody is willing to take the plunge in its deep, bloody waters.  Just like the music of Captain Beefheart, Syd Barret, Throbbing Gristle, Swans and other artists whose works do not lend themselves to easy pigeonholing, this album sounds like nothing else in music history and is steeped deep in the avant-garde.  You either like it or you don’t if it’s not your thing. But I think it’s unfair to call it one of the worst albums ever made just because it’s not for you. To say that Lulu is not an album made to appeal to mainstream tastes is an understatement. It explores uncomfortable themes that are too extreme for a lot of people, even metalheads. But if you happen to like weird, darkly experimental and extreme music with depth, there is a lot of joy to be had beneath the apparently disgusting, bloody, grimy and shit-covered surface. Underneath it all, there is a light, a peculiar wisdom, a state of grace, coming from the big, coagulating heart of Lou Reed whose true capacity for love is so great that it can find the good, the beautiful and the worthy even in the worst aspects of human life. This is music made for the contemplative type of listener who likes thought-provoking stuff and a good challenge – not to mention outright weirdos and freaks on the kinky side of the spectrum. It rewards deep, repeated listens and commands intense loyalty from those who have already fallen deeply in love with it.

One chief thing that I can say about the album is that is very vital. There is a palpable aliveness to it, as if the pain and darkness of life has rendered the senses more awake, raw and radiant. There’s just something about it that makes it very gripping, exciting and keeps you on the edge of your seat the whole time. I find that everytime I listen to it I cannot stop myself from listening until I get to the very last note of the extended drones at the tail end of “Junior Dad”. It’s the music that could only come out of a man on his last stand with nothing to lose and absolutely no fucks to give, and whose spirit is made uninhibited by that strange kind of freedom.  But how much more uninhibited can Lou Reed get?  This is a man who wrote Heroin when he was 25 years old in the early 60s!  He’s always been one of rock’s most certified edgelords, a world class troll who has dedicated his entire life to pissing people off. It’s only fitting that for his last gasp he would make his most extreme statement, his biggest fuck you to the world. And that’s precisely what he accomplished with Lulu. But it’s not all about cheap shock value. There’s real substance, real soul, real heart and intelligent insight within the music. In facing the reality of death (it was reported that he was already suffering from a multitude of health issues at the time), Lou confronts his biggest demons, his deepest and darkest fears, his worst traumas, and in the process created an exorcism of an album that simultaneously feels like the last powerful surge of electrical life energy before decay finally, inevitably wins. In this context, the album occupies the same ground as does Blackstar in David Bowie’s career: a dark, dangerous, fearless, extreme and wholly uncompromising artistic epitaph. We really are most alive when we are closing in on death.

The album is a deep dive into the thanatos, the death instinct inherent in the human psyche which is much repressed in our daily lives in order for us to fit in a “civilized” society. It goes into the depths of hell armed with a spiritual angelic power to survive the adventure and come out on the other side with greater wisdom, love and strength.  “Brandenburg Gate” opens the gates of hell and there is no turning back from there. You’re in for the ride. Lou starts with “I would cut my legs and tits off/ When I think of Boris Karloff and Kinski/ In the dark of the moon” to let you know what just you’re getting yourself into.  The quiet acoustic beginning quickly explodes into an ultra-heavy three-chord assault, courtesy of metal stalwarts Metallica. Lou narrates the story of a small town girl giving life a whirl in his signature speechgesang as his backing band plays balls-to-the-wall rock n’ roll behind him. It’s a bizarre fusion, but it works in an odd, magical, and unintentionally funny way.  James Hetfield’s powerful metal growling (SMALL TOWN GUUUURRRL) serves as the younger and brawnier extension of Lou’s angry-old-man-ranting voice, and Metallica’s powerful sound as the body for his intellect. The sound of this thing is like a cyborg-mutant with Lou’s head and Metallica as his big, muscular metal body. Lou’s poetry combines the absurd with the vulgar, in keeping with the tradition of the beat poets of his time. The song relentlessly powers through its four-minute duration with no chorus or refrains, just several verses punctuated by key lyrical tropes. This is basically what the rest of the album will be like. It’s clear right from the start that this is not a Metallica album, and it’s easy to understand why Metallica fans would hate it because this is not metal music. If anything, it’s actually grunge. It sounds closer to Nirvana’s In Utero than any Metallica album and bears Lou Reed’s distinct songwriting style and chord progressions. This is Lou’s album. For what it’s worth, I think the sound of it certifies Lou as the de facto godfather of grunge.

“The View” sports a sick metal-grunge riff and contains potent, thought-provoking lyrics from Lou tackling the psychology behind fatal attractions: the worship of evil; the sacrifice of our hard-earned morals, merits and reputation for the worship of those that actively despise us and actually want to see us commit self-harm and suicide. It’s a bizarre reality of human life that we don’t like to look at or talk about, but it’s always there with us – has been since the beginning of time. Why are so many of us attracted to psycho killers? Why do we keep on voting politicians who keep ruining our nations? Why do we worship religious leaders who deceive us and rape us spiritually? Why do we have sexual attraction to pain, degradation and punishment? Why do we keep choosing self- and collective destruction in spite of our best conscience? Why is our history so filled with tales of war and bloodshed? It’s the thanatos, the death instinct. Psychologists call it the ID. It’s something in our shadow side that we cannot explain through reason or even psychoanalysis.  Sometimes we would rather choose death than life, hell than heaven, for reasons we may never understand. It’s a reality of human life. The song closes with a thrilling acceleration and a brutal, kickass breakdown at the end as James Hetfield goes into the “I AM THE TABLE” part which has been memed to death – a perhaps unintentionally funny moment, but to me it serves as some kind of comic relief to inject some oddball humor amidst the sheer mayhem of the proceedings. I still get a hearty chuckle whenever that part comes on. “I AAAAAAM!”

Next up is “Pumping Blood”. To me, this is one of the best songs on the album. That slow, heavy, three-note-three-syllable riff n’ hook ("PAMPIMBLAAAAHD") that starts the song is so economical and effective – typical Lou. He’s always been an exceptional hook writer, making the most impact with the smallest amount of notes. The sound of this main riff amps the anxiety in me – it’s so ominous and evil-sounding. The song is as bloody as the title suggests and my favorite part of it is when it speeds up to thrash metal velocity towards the end as the narrator beseeches Jack The Ripper not to murder her, but it’s too late. “Blood spurting from me”. That part is just so horrific, so violent, so brutal, I admit that it can be too much to take, even for me. I swear it’s one of the most extreme moments in music that I have ever heard in my whole life and I doubt if I will ever encounter or am even willing to subject myself to anything more extreme – this is my limit. The intensity of it is just too much. But I can’t help but admire how artfully it’s executed.  The way the music speeds up at that part of the song is so morbidly fluid, almost amorphous – bloodshed in musical form – yet so musically precise and expertly performed. To me, the sound illustrates exactly the scene of a stabbing spree. It’s a testament to Metallica’s greatness as a band, their versatility and sheer musical competence. Lyrically, this song also contains some of my favorite lines and most memeable phrases from the album: “waggle my ass like a dark prostitute”, “coagulating heart”, “I will swallow your sharpest cutter like a colored man's dick”. Damn, Lou, what the fuck?

“Mistress Dread” is an extremely speedy piece of musical sadomasochism. It’s fast even by thrash metal standards and I don’t think Metallica has played this lightning-fast since the days of Dyer’s Eve.  It’s also lyrically so barbaric it can make a black metal fan blush.  “I wish you'd tie me up and beat me/ Crush me like a kick/ A bleeding strap across my back/ Some blood that you could kiss”. Again, Lou, what the actual fuck, man?! There’s even a dash of coprophilia thrown in there for good taste. I think this is the song on the album that takes the deepest dive into the subject of sexual sadomasochism. Key lyric: “I'm a woman who likes men/ But this is something else/ I've never felt such stirrings.” It’s still a taboo subject in this modern day and age yet it is as prevalent as ever and I think all of us have it to some extent, it’s just that some kinks are more extreme than others. Most people won’t admit to having sadomasochistic fantasies, but do we know what really happens behind closed doors? It’s still shocking and strange to see on TV how many women would flock at the jail cell of a convicted serial killer, yet it keeps on happening all the time. Some people just love to be abused. Just what it is in us that makes us so attracted to the fucked up and straight-up evil? Oh well. Kiss away, kiss away.

So far it’s been real heavy going. To bring some much-needed relief, the hooky and somewhat melodic “Iced Honey” comes a’ rolling. It’s the closest Lou and Co. come to a straightforward, three-chord rock song here. It’s a groovy rocker, a real foot-stomper. The main hook is, again, simple but effective and there are some potent lines, the best of which is the almost-singalong “see if the ice will melt for you” part. But my favorite moment in the song is the moment when Lou raises his voice up a notch to sing the line “And me, I've always been this way/ Not by choice, just this way”. It’s just another example of how a simple turn of phrase and note can have such a strong emotional effect. Lou is a master at this. He has been since day one, and by the time of Lulu he’s had about 50 years of experience as a bandleader doing this kind of stuff. 

I haven’t yet seen any music writer mention it directly, but to me Lou is a master of the cadence and he really knows how to let a song flow. "Sister Ray" and "Heroin" are the best examples of this where he demonstrates his mastery of the song structure by inserting an interjection, introducing a catchphrase, or punctuating a song with a grunt at just the right, precise moment that the song needs it. It’s very similar to what James Brown does – being a rock conductor.  Lou demonstrates this same mastery many, many times in Lulu. And also, his voice. God, people don’t talk about it enough but I think he’s one of the greatest singers in all of rock n’ roll. He has a great, commanding tone. And even though he sings mostly in his famous speak-sing style as opposed to the traditional melodic way of singing, he’s capable of stirring powerful emotions with the smallest effort. In Lulu, his voice may be old but there is plenty of grit and power in his vocal performances here, and his commanding tone has not left him for one second.

The eleven-minute “Cheat on Me” closes part one of the album.  It is a moody, melancholic, slow-burner of a song. I love the long, ambient, mournful sounds of the intro. The sinister chord progression of the main part of the song is reminiscent of “Heart Shaped Box” by Nirvana. It’s the most atmospheric song on the album and takes a bit of time before it fully takes off.  It’s not a barnburner like all the songs that came before it but rather a mood to get lost in for a while. As it grows and builds, it seems like the song is always on the verge of falling apart since it doesn’t have a well-defined song structure. It sounds like an unrehearsed jam spontaneously held together by sheer musical expertise.  The song maintains a tension throughout but the much-needed release comes somewhere around the 10-minute mark where Lou spits the final verse that serves to round out the jam and saves it from meandering completely.  This is yet another demonstration of Lou’s exceptional talent at directing the cadence of a song. James Hetfiled here gives his best vocal performance in the entire record.

For Side II of Lulu, we are slowly lured by ambient screeching sounds reminiscent of the music of Swans before getting pummeled by possibly the most kickass riff in the entire record. It’s a slow, sludgy, doomy riff that echoes the best riffs of Master of Reality-era Sabbath. Lyrically, the song pretty much deals with the by-now-familiar subject of sexual sadomasochism and perversion, but this time coming from the point of view of the masculine character.  In my interpretation, the lyrics explore the theme of what makes the mind of a male serial killer tick. Male serial killers are deeply insecure inside and are intimidated by women who they perceive as more of a man than they are or could ever hope to be.  Their attraction for women is purely fetishistic – and fetishes are only means for the psyche to cope with and reconcile aspects within oneself that are found to be impossible to love. Actually, it’s not as much love as it is envy that is causing the character’s attraction for a girl who is “spermless and more man than I”.  He seethes with rage as he exclaims “I want so much to kill you/ I want you as my wife”. This is true perversion, where the will to love is so hopelessly confused with the will to destroy – arising from the warped mind of a man who knows manliness only as “to be dead and to have no feelings”. The character projects his deep inner insecurities onto the girl who possesses the same thing he so desires for himself, yet which he so deeply lacks: real manhood. This stirs a deep, deep hatred for the woman and a simultaneous secret desire to be like her.

I love how the song goes double time in the middle with the heavy, chugging riff and Lars’ incredible drumming. And here we go again with another tangent. I think Lars is an incredible drummer. It seems that it has been fashionable in the internet age to shit on his drumming, but I still think he’s one of the greatest drummers of all time. He has a sort of amateurish, punkish feel that makes his style so primal – but coupled with a unique dexterity to qyalify him to play in the biggest metal band in the world. Lars knows how to groove hard and plays with great, infectious energy. His beats are even, dare I say, danceable. Lou recognized this gift right away when he saw Lars play for the first time and was reportedly so impressed by him that he even compared his drumming to Tai Chi because of how efficiently and powerfully Lars delivers the energy through his kit (Lou is a known Tai Chi practitioner and enthusiast).

“Little Dog” is a depressing acoustic dirge that continues with the theme of envy. It’s an oppressively sad, decrepit song seething with an atmosphere of pure hopelessness and apathy that mirrors perfectly just how pathetic the little dog character must feel. Nothing can drive a man into psychosis like deep, all-consuming penis envy. In this world, size matters. The size of your dick, the size of your body, the size of your bank account. No man ever wished he had a smaller penis or less money.  It’s a deeply ingrained, evolutionary need in us. It’s the big dog who always gets the girl, who gets to reproduce, who gets the access to food, and who gets the opportunity to live a long, happy life. Every dog has its day except for the pathetic little dog. Well, at least until he gets rich! Ah, money – the great equalizer! Money can do anything. Money can get you the big cars, big mansions, big name, fame. The little dog can now finally compensate. With big money, he can now finally “raise that little doggie face/ To a cold-hearted pussy/ And have a taste/ A taste of what the big dog got.”

"Dragon” is another heavy riffer and one of the top contenders for the best riff song on the album. That riff is so bloody excellent and the way Lars grooves in it makes the whole thing gel into one living, monstrous entity. The lyrics tackle the most depraved form of perversion of all: hatred as worship. Again, this is about the psychology of fetishizing but taken to its most extreme expression. We worship, we idolize, we put on the pedestal, but secretly we hate and we envy and want to destroy what is beautiful, godly and graceful – blasphemy, destruction of that which is pure and holy.  This demonic spirit exists in the human psyche. What compelled that disturbed man to destroy the Pieta? What makes a rapist ruin and kill a sweet, innocent little girl?  What underlies pedophilia?  What consciousness governs the inward and outward practice of Satanism? It’s that goddamn thanatos in us, rooted in the deep-seated belief that we fundamentally lack and can never attain the qualities and attributes of that which we worship. Naturally, this darkest moment is when the final death of the characters in the album happen.  I’d like to single out Kirk Hammett’s blistering avant-garde style solo in the middle of the song where he goes out of his comfort zone and rises to the occasion – for me, a testament to his musicianship and broadness of taste. It's a moment that has given me a newfound level of respect for his guitar playing.

The album closes with the elegiac but hopeful “Junior Dad” which is unlike anything else in the album. It is a beautiful, heavenly piece of music that features some tearjerker lyrics and performances.  “Wake up, the dream is over” reveals that the whole debauchery was just a bad dream. Who knows, maybe this life on earth is just a bad dream after all and when we die we wake up to a heavenly reality and find out that sickness, death, psychosis, old age, war, famine and death are all just an elaborate illusion. The whole song is so beautiful, but my favorite moment is the part where Lou sings: “I will teach you meanness, fear and blindness/ No social redeeming kindness/ Or…oh! State of grace”. The way his voice transforms from having a cruel tone to tender angelic kindness is a luminous moment that never stops sending chills down my spine and tears welling from my eyes everytime I hear it. It’s so healing. It’s as if the demons have now been exorcised completely and all is forgiven. I think deep down this song is really about forgiving Lou’s dad who is his “greatest disappointment”, and maybe even both of his parents who have caused him a whole lifetime of trauma that led him to a life of drug addiction, sexual perversion and promiscuity – but also a full life of rockstardom and full artistic realization. The closing drones of the song finds a Lou who is completely at peace, in a state of spiritual bliss, as his soul ascends to a heavenly realm. It really is a beautiful thought to have: that this is Lou’s final song before he left us, and that he went out on a beautiful note of redemption – well-deserved for a great soul who has brought us so much good music. It's one of the best songs he has ever done in his storied career.

As you can tell from the long novel I just wrote – I love this album. Fucking love this album. I love it to death. It fascinates me infinitely and helps me to process my own psychological stuff to work out, as well as deeply reflect on the profound shadows of the human world. It is actually a very healing and inspiring album. The lyrics are as incisive and insightful as only the wit of a Lou Reed can achieve.  I like that the music is absolutely authentic and uncompromising in its artistic intent. I like its oddball humor. I like how conceptually cohesive it is. I like its sheer absurdity and therapy through excess. I think Lou chose the perfect band in Metallica for this gargantuan undertaking. It’s the biggest, boldest choice possible and the closest thing Lou ever got to actualizing his avant-garage musical dream. You can really tell that he’s beyond delighted to have the brawn of Metallica for his brains – I think he’s been jonesing for this kind of sound since the days of Sister Ray.  The album would never have had the same cultural impact – for better and for worse – if any other band had been selected to play on it.

The album is just a perfect sendoff to one of the most remarkable careers in rock music and one of its most iconic personalities. It deserves so much love. I think it’s just now beginning to get its much-needed reappraisal. More and more music fans are coming out professing their love for this album. It deserves none of the hate that it still gets. I don’t think those people who claim to hate it have even given the album a fair shake and simply rode on the bandwagon. It’s as perfect a final statement as is Bowie’s Blackstar. I think Blackstar was better received because of its distinctive English finesse that a royal blood like Bowie can never shake off even if he tried. But Lulu has that raw New York street grit. Both albums I hold in the same artistic esteem and are two of the best final albums by two of rock’s most remarkable acts. I repeatedly draw these parallels because I think Lou and David have a shared spiritual and musical destiny. As it stands, I rank Lulu as my 4th favorite Lou Reed solo album, just behind New York, Transformer and The Blue Mask. It’s that good. In fact, it’s one of my favorite albums of the 21st century and I’m really glad that I like it and it brings so much joy and gives me just one more reason to live and make it through the day. It's the heaviest spoken word album of all time.

I’ve always been a bit jealous of people who can listen to music and describe it as a deeply emotional or evocative experience, especially with instrumental music.

Recently, I listened to loveless by MBV for the third or fourth time and went on RYM to read reviews. People talk about feeling specific emotions or the feeling of being transported to different spaces. To me, a lot of the tracks sound like the same droning tone repeated over and over, almost like a bleating goat on autotune (though a few tracks with more distinct melodies were pretty tolerable).

I had a similar experience with post-rock classics like Godspeed You! Black Emperor. It sounds like great instrumental music and I can see it fit in a movie due to the "atmosphere" their music has. But it doesn't evoke deep personal feelings or imagery for me.

But with a lot of my favorite albums which involve lyrics, I've never had this problem. For example, someone pointed out that the What Color is Love by Terry Callier really feels like you are the person in the album cover and living in that moment. The lyrics and the instrumentals work so well together to give that effect.

I’m not trying to hate on these albums, I actually really want to get loveless. (and the others in the similar style)

How do you actively listen to music where instruments takes priority over lyrics? What am I missing?

There’s just something about 80s–90s songs that feels different. The melodies, the lyrics, the emotions… they have a kind of warmth that’s hard to explain.

Whenever I sing, I almost always find myself going back to the old songs. Maybe it’s the nostalgia, maybe it’s the memories they bring, or maybe I’m just an old soul. 😂❤️

I could listen to them for hours and never get tired of it.

Anyone else here who gets that same nostalgic feeling from old-school songs? 🎤✨

Where can I find a compilation of both popular music and unknown music? I've tried searching for personal playlists on YouTube but they mostly have more popular music than the latter. Then, I thought about giving the Random Music Spotify playlist a shot. However, it has more lesser known music than popular ones. Sincerely, I have no idea about how I can get what I'm looking for at this point. What would you do in my place?

I’m Kenyan and growing up I listened to Congolese music a lot. Now that I’m older I’ve started to see that the francophone African immigrants in France are becoming very influential in music over there. The music they’re making sounds like a straight up mix of Malian,Ivorian and Congolese music with no French influence other than the language. I’m wondering if this is actually what’s happening or is it only a small percentage of people that I’m noticing or is French music still the same it was without any African influence.

I've gone down a music rabbit hole the last couple days trying to figure out what actually makes a band recognizable as that band.

I've been calling it a band's "fingerprint" because I don't really have a better word for it. Not necessarily their genre, a particular guitar tone, or even the singer's voice. Just whatever combination of things makes your brain recognize who's playing before you actually check.

Breaking Benjamin is probably my best example because I've listened to basically their entire catalog. They've evolved, production has changed, and the lineup has changed dramatically, but there's still something that immediately sounds like Breaking Benjamin to me.

Motionless in White's "Masterpiece" is actually what got me thinking about this from the opposite direction. When I first heard it, my brain basically went, "Wait... is this Breaking Benjamin? It sounds like Breaking Benjamin, but something is off."

Obviously it wasn't them. But another band had apparently gotten close enough to whatever my brain associates with Breaking Benjamin that it triggered that recognition anyway.

Then I had almost the opposite experience with Bullet For My Valentine's new song "Social Apocalypse."

I know Bullet's biggest songs pretty well, but I'm not a hardcore fan who's listened to every album and deep cut. If YouTube Music had randomly dropped Social Apocalypse into one of my playlists without me knowing who it was, especially during that instrumental opening, I would've had to pull out my phone and check who was playing. Nothing about it would've immediately made me think "oh, this is Bullet."

I've seen other people say the new song doesn't have that signature Bullet sound, while more dedicated fans say they can absolutely hear Bullet in it, especially similarities to certain eras.

That's where I started wondering if this "fingerprint" doesn't exist entirely in the music. Maybe part of it exists in the listener too.

I've listened to basically everything Breaking Benjamin has released, so my brain has a huge sample of what Breaking Benjamin sounds like. My idea of Bullet comes from a much smaller sample, mostly their biggest songs. Someone who knows every Bullet record might hear connections in Social Apocalypse that I simply don't have the reference points to recognize.

Changing singers makes it even weirder. Killswitch Engage still sounds like Killswitch to me with either Jesse Leach or Howard Jones. Three Days Grace kept a lot of what made them recognizable after Adam Gontier left, but at the same time they had obviously lost one of the most recognizable parts of their sound. And now Linkin Park with Emily Armstrong has me thinking about the same thing. Chester Bennington's voice was a massive part of Linkin Park's identity, but it clearly wasn't the only thing that made Linkin Park sound like Linkin Park.

Then you have Falling in Reverse, where I'm not even sure genre is very useful for identifying the band anymore. "Ronald," "All My Life," "Watch the World Burn," and their version of "Last Resort" go in completely different directions, but somehow there's still an identity connecting them.

Even the whole "djent isn't a genre, it's a technique" argument made me think about this. Historically, sure. But if somebody describes a band as djent, most metal listeners probably imagine a hell of a lot more than one guitar technique. Certain tones, low tunings, rhythms, production styles, extended-range guitars, etc. have all become associated with that word to the point where it describes a recognizable sound whether you want to call it a genre or not.

That seems weirdly similar to what I'm talking about. Our brains take a bunch of individual musical traits and eventually start recognizing the combination as something.

The simplest way I've been able to describe it is:

Genre is the neighborhood a song lives in.

Technique is part of the toolbox used to make it.

A band's fingerprint is whatever makes you recognize who built it.

I'm not claiming "fingerprint" is an actual music theory term or that I've figured any of this out. It's just the best way I've found to describe something I've apparently been doing subconsciously for years.

So I'm curious how other people experience this. What actually creates a band's fingerprint for you? Is it something that's just there in the music, or is part of it something our brains learn from listening to a band over time?

And what are some bands that have changed dramatically but somehow still sound like themselves? Or the opposite, bands that stayed in roughly the same genre but stopped sounding like themselves to you?

A friend introduced me to HYUKOH (definitely recommend they have a new album coming up) while we were on a train by the sea. The music and that train ride feel connected.

It got me thinking about how the way we discover music becomes part of our attachment to it. If I’d heard the same songs in an automatic playlist, I might still have loved them, but they’d carry a different feeling.

I think I miss having more discoveries with a story attached. Someone playing you a song because they think you’ll like it, or hearing something somewhere and spending ages trying to find it afterward.

What’s a music discovery where you still remember exactly how it happened? And has the way you find music changed how you feel about it; anything you miss, or something that still gives you that feeling? I'd love to hear your stories!