Earlier this evening I was out at a bar. For reasons I can no longer recall (probably because earlier this evening I was out at a bar), the conversation turned to how Radiohead, once an “alternative” band, has in recent years become popular with frat types. I then began reminiscing about the days when They Might Be Giants was a band no one outside of the northeast had heard of, in spite of having recorded three albums and playing live almost constantly, and bemoaning the fact that their shows are now overrun with douchebags.

“Are you a music snob?” my companion asked me. A snob? I thought. Not at all. After all, on my way to the bar I had been listening to Mariah Carey on my iPod. (C’mon now, you know “We Belong Together” is irresistible.) In spite of everything, I still like Madonna. I just don’t like asswipes…so when they show up at the same venues I frequent, I am quite reasonably distressed. However, later in the evening, when I expressed my delight to hear old chestnuts by Erasure and Big Audio Dynamite, the aforementioned companion nodded. “Music snob,” he remarked once more, with a smirk.

What? I’m a snob because I like music you have never heard of? Oh woe is me. Jesus, having owned a copy of “The Innocents” is hardly a sign of erudition.