A wise person once told me that music sounds increasingly appealing as it becomes increasingly familiar.
In other words, music grows on you like a fungus.
Sometimes, your favourite albums do nothing for you the first time. Oh sure, there’s those albums that immediately split the bones of your skull wide in half, spewing your prior ideas about songs and sounds into a heaving pile on the floor. There are also albums full of glossy earworms and sparkle which sometimes lose their luster over repeated scrutiny.
But what interests me right now, is why some albums grow on you so much.
You want examples? Right, of course you do. I am going to confess to not liking the following the first time:
Who are of course now some of my favourite artists. Why is this?
A wise person once told me that artists doing something new take more time to find an audience. People don’t know what to do with them…
That is certainly how I felt when I first heard Bjork. Her alien voice and heavy accent was residing in an alternate universe to mine. The vibrating horn, harp and electronic arrangements struck me as wildly strange. Eventually, like most of the world, I was won over by her wild abandon and authenticity. Now she seems perfectly normal.
Maybe this is why some albums are a grower – sometimes some things are just too new, too deep or too grating to be love at first listen. But, like a fungus, they burrow themselves deep into our brains, snaking their little tentacles into our souls and forever embedding themselves in our hearts.
Score: 1 for fungus, 0 for us.