The downfall of depressive music

Maybe it was just maturity kicking in or maybe it was a person that I met in April 2004 when my emo-kid angst and depression cracked, crashing down in flames and taking my love for rock music with it. The music I was listening to then I absolutely despise now; I actually purged my music collection of gigabytes of pessimistic, depressive, whiny tunes of angst, replacing it with Euroasian dance and electronica, songs of upbeat 4/4 rhythms and optimistic lyrics. Now, I’m a core founder of MEDMA, the Michigan Electronic Dance Music Association, and I actively despise emo and pop-punk. My indie-music designer friends still listen to their whiny counterculture pessimism and look at me condescendingly when I tell them that I dislike Radiohead, Death Cab for Cutie, Broken Social Scene, and Sufjan Stevens.

Over the past few months, though, I’ve attempted to dabble in indie. It hasn’t worked for the most part, although my interest in electroclash has eventually led me to dance-rock groups somehow considered “indie” such as The Faint and hellogoodbye. My love for jazz and big band pushed me toward singer-songwriters such as the lovely Rachael Yamagata. I’m not leaving my electronic music, and I’m definitely not going back to my old emo-kid self. If the song’s depressing, it gets switched. If there’s one thing a girl taught me about a year and a half ago, it’s that life is too short to listen to somebody complain and wallow in your own self-pity. I’m going to listen to music that makes me smile; I’m not masochistic.

Bill Couch, print layout designer for the Onion-like university parody newspaper The Michigan Every Three Weekly, is a total indie freak - just look at his last.fm playlist - but last night, he began to realise that a lot of his indie wasn’t worth listening to anymore. He’s not depressed; life is going well. The artists on his iPod would want him to believe that the world is a hell for those not in on mainstream culture, but the irony inherent in the artists’ own counterculture subculture is a sociological disaster waiting to collapse upon itself. While Bill hasn’t become an electronic music nut like I have, he’s realising the silliness inherent in indie music and culture.

I’m beginning to see this depressive music as nothing more than an outlet for teenage angst and lazy counterculture radicals. Don’t like your life? Change it. Got dumped by your girlfriend or boyfriend? Move on. I’m thoroughly convinced that you can pretty much do anything with enough effort; two years ago, I was a software developer, emo kid, and a computer science major. Now I’m a web designer, editor, electronic music nut, and economics major. Sure, it takes time to change, but I’ve never been happier. The only thing that was holding me back was my own self as well as that constant reassurance from iTunes that I couldn’t do anything about my insignificance.

After all, the music I was listening to told me that it happened to a lot of people. There’s nothing you can do about it? Wrong. Go to hell, depressive music: I’m your living counterexample.