When I was a kid, I had pretty eclectic tastes in music. Credit for this goes to my parents, both huge music lovers who spawned a little music lover in me. My mom was all about “oldies”—she never turned her dial from legendary KRTH out of Los Angeles, K-EARTH 101. There I heard doo-wop and soul, from The Four Tops to Otis Redding, The Righteous Brothers, etc. My dad was a regular listener of another L.A. behemoth, KLOS 95.5, home of nonstop classic rock. His tastes gravitated toward the more down and dirty, as it were. Joe Cocker, Cream, The Box Tops, and oh so much blues. That was his wheelhouse, and I got an extensive education from him in that department. Howlin’ Wolf, Muddy Waters, Buddy Guy to name but a few.
As I hit my teens, my awkwardness and shy nature led me to hang out with a group that on the surface may have seemed an odd fit: the skaters, stoners, and metalheads. There I was, with my short hair, glasses, and polo shirts, hanging out with guys with shaggy hair and mullets, smoking cigarettes behind the gym (them, not me) and talking about Metallica, Slayer, and Suicidal Tendencies. Over time, metal and punk took over my life. I learned guitar and joined bands playing various forms of extreme music.
Once I fell out of my local music scene, a funny thing happened: I heard a Sam Cooke song—it may have been Summertime, but don’t quote me on that—and it sounded like a breath of fresh air. It was light and breezy and everything extreme music wasn’t. That marked a bit of a musical renaissance for me. To be clear, I never stopped liking blues, soul, R & B, or any other non-aggressive music. I had just stopped listening to it. Something about being in a band had given me the mindset that I had to listen exclusively to the kind of music I was playing. From then on, I vowed to listen to anything and everything I wanted to, anytime I wanted to.
I started making mixtapes that would melt some of my friends’ minds. “How can you have The Breeders followed by Cannibal Corpse?” One friend asked. I argued that the two went together nicely. They counterbalanced each other. Yin and Yang. I rarely listen to CD’s anymore, but I never stopped mixing things up like that. Now it’s my Pandora that’s the crazy mix of Portishead and Puscifer, Deicide and The Delphonics. It all makes sense to me.
What it comes down to is that good music exists everywhere. Every country, every genre. What makes it bad isn’t the type of music or the style in which it’s played. It’s the emotion behind it, and the ultimate sin as far as I’m concerned is to play music devoid of any feeling. That’s just plain boring, and no one wants to listen to that.
And that’s our goal with Kill Boring Music: to share with you our love of music, let you know what we’re listening to, and help you find the best music the planet has to offer. Because life’s too short for boring music.