It Took Me Years to Like . . .
posted by Frank Pasquale
As a recent victim of Sudden iPod Death Syndrome, I’ve returned to my antiquated Dell MP3 player. It’s a bit of a throwback to the four years or so when I bought it. . . . and I’m tired of most of the pop songs on it. But one album I never liked at the time strikes me as fantastic now–Radiohead’s Hail to the Thief. I found it pretty much unlistenable when I bought it.
What changed? When I took a poetry course from Helen Vendler, she once said: “If you don’t like a poem now, wait for 10 years, and re-read it.” That may sound a bit smug on the computer screen, but I think you’d have been as impressed as I was if you were there. She tended to declaim like the Iris Murdoch of Judi Dench’s Iris–always from a minimalist lectern surrounded by hundreds of square feet of empty polished parquet floor.
In any event, I’d love to hear about any book or music it took you years to like. I think the experience is a nice phenomenological confirmation of the problem of affective forecasting.
From the abstract of the article by Jeremy Blumenthal:
I review here the empirical data demonstrating that individuals predict emotions inaccurately, and spin out the implications of this research for a number of substantive legal areas. The data show potential flaws in the way civil juries assign compensatory awards, and in our approach to certain aspects of sexual harassment law. The findings have profound implications for the presentation of victim impact statements to capital juries, but also undercut some abolitionist claims regarding the suffering that death row prisoners experience.
And a final note on Radiohead. . . if you find Hail to the Thief too harsh, try Optimistic….a nice piece of minimalist social criticism along the lines of “the big fish eat the little ones.”
August 2, 2007 at 10:56 am
Posted in: Culture, Law and Psychology
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Responses (5)
dave - August 2, 2007 at 11:33 am
How about foods – it took me many, many tries to like beets and stinky cheeses!
Patrick S. O'Donnell - August 2, 2007 at 11:51 am
It took me some years to enjoy (some) Country music (Patsy Cline, Waylon Jennings, Tammy Wynette…), including Western Swing (e.g., Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys) and Bluegrass (e.g., Doc Watson). And when I was younger I did not listen to Gregorian Chants or the voice of Enrico Caruso, both of which I’m quite fond of today. (I’ve always liked Blues, Jazz, and Rock & Roll.)
Nick G-B - August 2, 2007 at 12:27 pm
“The Ghost of Tom Joad” by Springsteen. I only knew BITUSA, Dancin’, and other pop hits, plus the Tunnel of Love tape I had in my car. I got “Ghost” as a Christmas music one year, had a dylan-went-electric? reaction to it, but years later grew to absolutely love it. The transition period also covered college and adulthood, so I’m sure maturity had more to do with the change than some fine wine effect on the music.
Frank - August 2, 2007 at 1:41 pm
I can relate to the stinky cheeses, country music, and Springsteen. Though my father liked Lucinda Williams music a long time, I only started listening long after he did.
Reminds me of Mark Twain’s old line: “When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.”
Mike O'Shea - August 2, 2007 at 6:41 pm
I took Vendler’s Core class on English poetry as an undergrad in the mist-shrouded early 90s. Good solid survey course. I remember she read poems well: clear and pleasant, not theatrical. That class introduced me to Keats and Stevens. What’s not to like?
On topic: Scritti Politti’s “Perfect Way.” Sounded like dorky fey nothing on the radio to my tween self in ‘85. Then in grad school circa ‘96, a classmate pointed out all his wordplay, influenced by French literary theory. I paid attention to the words, and liked them, and (perhaps as a gesture of theory-nerd solidarity?), I started to dig the song.
I’m empty by definition
I got a lack, girl, that you’d love to be …
You wanna do a damage that you can undo. …
Apart from everyone, away from your love, a part of me belongs, apart from all the hurt above.
I’ve got a perfect way to make a new proposition.
I’ve got a perfect way to make a justification.
I’ve got a perfect way to make a certain a maybe.
I’ve got a perfect way to make the girls go crazy.
Maybe in Paris you do.
Fun, clever fey (no)thing.
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