Losing grip on hip at age 22

I got back to my apartment Thursday night to find my roommate eagerly watching the 2006 MTV Video Music Awards.

Some of her favorite bands were performing, and most of them were winning the little moon man statues given out for the best music videos of the year.

VMA night is one of the only nights of the year one can actually see musicians on the network, but that’s beside the point.

As bands such as Panic! At the Disco, A.F.I. and The All-American Rejects took the stage, I realized something. I’m just not that into mainstream music.

Don’t get me wrong. I listen to B 97.1 FM just as much as the next twentysomething. I keep up with the top 10 songs on iTunes. I even turn on VH1 every once in awhile, especially on Saturday mornings when they air the top 20 music videos of the week. I know what’s out there. I’m just not enamored by it.

The enthusiasm I had for any one genre of music seems to have faded away with my K-12 school years. Back then I loved alternative rock. Bands like the Foo Fighters, Nirvana, Pearl Jam and Alice in Chains seemed like a weird fit for a middle school girl, but I longed to be old enough to go to their concerts.

A few of those bands have stood the test of time, such as New Orleans-based Better Than Ezra and Orange County, California’s No Doubt.

But what was left of the late ‘90s rock and hip-hop scene seems annoying and almost regurgitated. The bands I first mentioned are part of a scene some call “emo,” that is, “emotional rock.” These bands’ piercings, makeup, weird hairstyles and over-the-top wardrobes scream out “we’re not very good musicians, so we need a schtick to be successful.” It’s a post-punk, post-alternative mix of distorted guitar and whiny vocals.

Panic! At the Disco gets creative with its instrumentation, using xylophones and horns, but the formula is still the same. I’ve heard it before being played by much better groups. I’ve realized that being strange for the sake of being strange just isn’t that interesting. And this is coming from someone who used to wear black lipstick in high school. (And no, I don’t consider myself a sell-out.)

Meanwhile, hip-hop, R&B and rap are not much better, although urban music seems to be the most innovative these days. A few years ago, we had the genius of Alicia Keys to save us from teeny bopper “artists” like Rihanna, Ciara and Cassie. Now three notes, a beat and vulgar lyrics will suffice for a hit tune, i.e. The Ying Yang Twins’ “Wait.”

Maybe it’s just that the major labels are marketing to teenagers now more than ever before. But if that’s true, I find it hard to believe that even teenagers like some of this stuff.

Now I find myself retreating into country music, which I admittedly hated for the first 19 years of my life. I find myself listening to 90.9 KSLU (college alternative) and Martini 106.1 (jazz, swing, blues and lounge) just to find some variety. I actually enjoy bluegrass music. If I find an artist I like, I find out who else is on that artist’s (usually independent) record label through the Internet. Or, I go to that artist’s friends pages on MySpace.com. That has become my new means of finding decent music. B 97 surely doesn’t help.

I’m also beginning to pay a lot of attention to Web sites like Pandora.com, which is a network of Internet radio stations that suggests songs based on the artists a user likes. Its creators call it the “Music Genome Project” because they’ve perfected a way to classify different musical traits to group similar tunes together.

Then there’s Last.fm, which tracks songs played on your computer and allows you to link up with people who enjoy the same music. That way, you can share musical discoveries with your online peers.

I now understand why my mom still listens to James Taylor and Barry Manilow. It was the music of her youth, sure, but at least that music had feeling. It came from a deeper place and was about the important things in life, not jewelry, cars and superficialities.

I’m just waiting for the day when I won’t have to actively seek out good music. In some future Utopian society, the satellite radio will be free for all, and eclectic musical tastes will be the norm rather than the exception.

Until then, I’ll keep searching, with a confused iPod full of Justin Timberlake and Dave Barnes songs to tide me over.