Out with the old, in with the new

In my teens, my musical identity was pretty much split between a fascination for the hard rock of the 1980s, and the nu-metal of the early 2000s. At the time, I loved the genres, and everything in them felt exciting and fresh, to me at least.

So you'd think that I'd be totally onboard with this huge wave of nostalgia for both eras.

But instead, I see the misogyny of bands like Limp Bizkit (Significant Other, the band's breakthrough album is almost like a precursor to the manosphere, while the video for the group's 2003 single Eat You Alive features vocalist Fred Durst kidnapping a woman who spurned him) be rehabilitated into a playful throwback.

Until the streaming era, when it became easier for artists to bypass the old record label gatekeepers, popular music had a pretty uniform perspective, made by a specific demographic, without any push back. And a lot the songs I grew up with were littered with sexism and homophobia.

So I feel cutoff from that warm glow of nostalgia as I struggle to engage with the music and artists that I can't relate to, who's views I no longer tolerate. Not so long ago, there was a string of articles about how Gen-Z find the movie American Pie problematic — yeah, because it is! And that's why I (and many others) don't watch it anymore.

But to paraphrase the inimitable Ginger Wildheart (from the life affirming track, 29x The Pain), 'how can I get down, when I've got all this incredible music around?' It's never been easier to find new music, you just have to know where to look.

Platforms like Apple Music and Spotify say they do music discovery, but what they really do is just present you with more of the same things you already like to keep you engaged with their platform (part of the wonderful algorithmic hellscape of the modern internet).

I've always enjoyed live shows, getting to hear artists express themselves in the moment is thrilling. But it wasn't until the pandemic lockdowns ended that I realised just how much I valued that community connection.

In 2022, I got to attend my first Glastonbury Festival. Music everywhere you looked. New artists, megastars, and rising sensations. I felt glued to the BBC Introducing tent, immersed in the incredible songs a new generation of musicians were putting out into the world.

I began feverishly putting together playlists of all the acts I'd seen, and those I didn't get to, and had that on repeat. Acts they toured with went on the list, along with side projects, collaborators, and others in these smaller scenes.

Then I stumbled across the newly-relaunched Drowned in Sound newsletter and podcast, initially fronted by Sean Adams, and later joined by Emma Wilkes. I'd found my people. They clearly live for music, and it pours out of everything they write and record, and the people they interview.

And then there are the fantastic teams at The Line of Best Fit and Dork that are constantly recommending new and exciting music. Sometimes, from people I've heard of, but I trust them, so when I see something unfamiliar, I jump in and press play.

The songs I've had lodged permanently in my brain the past few years aren't old classics, they're new tracks like Chloe Quisha's Sexy Goodbye, Holly Humberstone's Scarlett, and Griff's Last Night's Mascara.

I've tumbled into hyperpop holes, devouring SOPHIE's discography (It's Okay To Cry is devastating and beautiful) and the eclectic legacy she left that ultimately led to Charli XCX's unstoppable Brat era.

And there are elements of the nu-metal revival I have a lot of time for. There's a renewed excitement for the reformed Kittie, Evanescence have never been bigger, and Spiritbox, Sleep Token, The Callous Daoboys, Hot Milk, Vexed, and Bloodywood are making furious and inclusive music.

Unknowingly, the toxic bands of yesteryear have pushed me to explore new music, and for that, I'll always be grateful.

I feel very fortunate to live in a time when there's so much incredible art being made, allowing me to discover my new favourites, to hear their perspectives on a genre, or their way with words, and to feel new things.