I wish I’d listened to more music.

This probably sounds ridiculous to anyone who knows me well. It also sounds like the sort of declaration a person makes on discovering that they have but months to live. Please don’t draw any conclusions. I persist with a head-in-the-sand policy on all health-related matters, so if I am dying, rest assured I don’t know any more about it than you.

I wish I’d listened to more music because it’s becoming increasingly apparent that I’ve barely scratched the surface. My favourite music podcast, The Album Years, has shown me the error of my ways. The way they casually reel off the names of artists I’ve never heard of as though they’re household names. The Pretty Things. Kitchens of Distinction. Dead Can Dance. The Enid. How is it that I could have failed to listen to all 16 of Jane Siberry’s studio albums? Or all 40,000 of Frank Zappa’s? Listening to them is like stepping into the musical equivalent of the Total Perspective Vortex.

I love the podcast but I hate facing the reality that, in the grand scheme of things, I know nothing about music. Moreover, it gives me the disconcerting sense that with every second I spend doing anything other than diving into this musical treasure trove (such as visiting my 102-year-old grandmother or sleeping), I am reaffirming my status as a charlatan*.

So I’m going to make it my life’s mission to plug the gaps and listen to absolutely everything. It’s a fool’s errand, but I know in my heart that I can be that fool.

Moreover, I’ve often claimed that, as age dulls the faculties of adventure and pulls us relentlessly back into our comfort zone, the trick to avoid falling permanently out of music discovery mode is to maintain the belief that your favourite album is still out there, just waiting to be unearthed. The more I discover what I don’t know, the more I think it could be true.

*This doesn’t apply to contemporary music, of course. It is a truth universally acknowledged that new music starts to wash over you as you get older. Particularly if it’s shit.

Photo by Jamakassi on Unsplash