One distinction music has over most other expressions of art is that it has a knack for tying you to a certain place and time in your life.

For instance, every time I hear anything from Kiss' Love Gun album I am instantly transported back to 1978 and the bedroom I shared with my older brother. I would grab his badminton racket and pretend it was a guitar (see how boring life was before Guitar Hero?), then at the end of the record I'd completely lay waste to everything in our bedroom.

While this behavior is completely acceptable in a 20-year-old sallow misanthrope in girl pants, it is totally unacceptable for a 3-year-old. So, alas, my parents eventually impounded my brother's Kiss albums, and my brother to this day has never let me live it down.

On the flip side, good music also has the tendency to be unfairly aligned with some of its fans and their annoying antics.

Recently I got into an e-mail discussion with a bandmate about why he just doesn't get into The Beatles. While explaining his derision he also admitted to having reggae ruined for him by drunk dudes partying at the lake near his childhood home. And immediately I understood where he was coming from. I have an awful case of Jamaicus Avoidus, and it is instantly attributable to college. To this day I cannot listen to Bob Marley and have a hard time with other reggae acts, too.

I'm not completely dumb about it. I do realize Bob Marley's importance in the scheme of things, both musically and socially. And I also realize that Marley is only the most publicly acknowledged artist from a seriously deep canon of other reggae artists with an equal claim to fame artistically, if not symbolically. But I just can't get into reggae. When I hear the familiar offbeat lilt, I think immediately about stereotypical frat brothers with their hats on backward spilling their drinks all over me at parties as they attempt to dance to Marley or Toots and the Maytals. And therefore, in my addled mind, I can't enjoy the music for all the baggage I bring to it.

Sadly, for many years I lumped most world music and the Grateful Dead into this category. I have a Cartman-esque aversion to hippies, and it kept me from hearing anything remotely redeeming in the music. All I could think of was how awful the unholy alliance of sweat and patchouli smelled. In recent years I've been able to get over my Dead issues, and thanks to Listen Globally and Sonido Global on KEOS 89.1 FM, I'm beginning to get over my world music phobias too.

I know I can overcome these High Fidelity moments of misplaced cultural supremacy. Maybe someday I can hear Exodus again without feeling a remembered Icehouse draft spilling all over my head and torso.

After all, I now have an appreciation for Bob Dylan. So I suppose anything is possible.

• Kelly Minnis is a music writer, KEOS DJ, musician and father of two. E-mail him at kellyminnis@gmail.com.

Title:


Comment:


Your Name: (optional - shown on website)

Enter text seen above:

---