Recently, there has been a lot of music critique in the media. The Grammys and the Super Bowl halftime show have once again highlighted the debate over what “good” music really is.
Recently, I decided good music is the music that makes you feel something. It’s what speaks to you, what you relate to and simply what you like. No two people will have the exact same taste – that’s part of what makes it so special and so controversial.
Two of my favorite bands are in often mocked genres: 2000s emo pop-punk and indie folk. I want to take a moment to explain why these bands are so special.
My Chemical Romance
I discovered My Chemical Romance (MCR) in middle school, a stereotype-appropriate time to get into emo music. As an angsty pre-teen, the intense sound and moody aesthetic spoke to me. Listening to MCR was cathartic – it helped me process some of the big emotions I was feeling for the first time and reminded me that I wasn’t alone.
Their song “I’m Not Okay (I Promise)” was featured heavily in my seventh-grade playlists. Its angry feeling mixed with absurdist lyrics allowed me to express my feelings while simultaneously accepting that some of them were overdramatic, and all of it would pass someday.
Upon first listening, many MCR songs sound like they are promoting depression, death, anger and hate. When carefully dissected, however, they reveal a hopeful take on life.
I was lucky enough to go to an MCR concert in 2022. After playing “Headfirst for Halos,” a song off their first album, lead singer Gerard Way spoke to the stadium, saying that although the song has incredibly dark lyrics, it’s a message of hope; a message that we have all felt terrible things, and we survived.
When Way said that, I realized how I relate to MCR has changed. As I have grown up, their music is no longer something that describes my inner turmoil, but rather something that reminds me of the hard things I’ve withstood.
MCR is perceived as an angsty emo band, which it is. That’s part of why I love it. MCR is also more than that. It’s good music, full of creativity, humor, joy, sadness and hope.
The Mountain Goats
I started listening to The Mountain Goats in my junior year of high school. I was exploring indie folk music at large then, but of all the bands I discovered, The Mountain Goats is one of the few I still listen to today.
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When I hear people criticize The Mountain Goats, they claim the singing is bad, or the songs all sound like the same monotone, nonsensical rambles set over a few guitar chords. There is some merit to these criticisms. Lead singer John Darnielle is no Frank Sinatra, and many of the group’s songs are nonsensical and rambling. But this is exactly why I love it.
The simplicity of the vocals means I can sing along with ease. And while Darnielle’s voice isn’t the most technically impressive, it conveys real emotion.
The Mountain Goats have an enormous discography, 22 studio albums and countless other EPs, singles, demos and live recordings. Through these albums, they explore several different sounds, concepts and subjects.
Many songs are autobiographical or confessional, some are conceptual and some are simply what the band felt they needed to say that day. Each album has a distinct feeling, and I enjoy watching the band evolve as they release new music.
The band’s diversity of albums means they have made a perfect album for every mood and every activity. “All Hail West Texas” is great for a run, “Bitter Melon Farm” is an excellent study album and “Heretic Pride” is a good album to cry to.
In 2023, I went to The Mountain Goats concert at a small, standing-room-only venue in Louisville, Kentucky. At the end, the whole audience was singing along with the band as they played “This Year,” screaming the lyrics, “I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me” over and over.
That experience is emblematic of why I love The Mountain Goats: they are a band that embraces joy and hope in the face of the unwavering difficulty of the human experience. They acknowledge that life is messy and absurd, and sometimes you need to get through the next year, or the next day, just out of spite.
I’ve had plenty of people tell me they don’t understand why I like the music I do. I don’t understand why other people like certain music. None of that matters. If a piece of music means something to you, if it makes you feel something, if it’s something you enjoy listening to, it is good music.
Eliza Sullivan is a first year double majoring in diplomacy and global politics and Russian, Eastern European and Eurasian studies. She writes for the Opinion section of The Miami Student. She is also involved with model Arab league and plays in the Miami steel band.