Don't touch me on my music taste!

We’ve all had that conversation. You meet someone new. You start talking about stuff. The topic of music comes up. Then, suddenly; “Hell no! That band’s kak!”

You feel offended. Hurt, even.

The words rip your heart out. Someone thinks the music you’ve held closest to your heart for years, just… sucks.

Why is it that we take it so personally when someone disses the music we hold so dear?

Our music taste is part of us, of who we are. The fact that I love rock and despise R&B is indicative of my character. It’s part of what defines me.

So naturally, when someone picks on Pink Floyd, I am going to get defensive. It’s almost as if the critic is picking on me as a person.

The lyrics, the music, and the lifestyle is intrinsically tied in to the choices we make in our lives. Whether we live by the lyrics, are moved by the music or emulate the lifestyle, that link to whichever artist is emotional, personal and intimate.

We don’t know the people at all, but we feel like we know them.

I know I do; when I listen to Matt Bellamy singing about love, hate, passion and revolt, I feel some connection to the guy.

Another reason we may feel personally attacked is that embarrassment of liking something that isn’t cool.

Though this is mainly the case only with posers, emos and hipsters, the feeling of being out of touch and uncool isn’t cool. In fact, it feels downright unpleasant.

Admitting that I still love Bon Jovi to a group of friends who think long hair and mankinis went out with Kiss is an awkward affair. Especially when you know all the words to Bad Medicine and the rest of the crowd don’t even know it was a Bon Jovi song to begin with.

(They roll their eyes and say ‘okay’, but you know they’re hating.)

It’s also to do with being, well, wrong. You love Green Day. Dookie formed part of the best years of your life. But their latest album is rehash after rehash. Your friends say so. Music journalists say so. The band’s latest concert says so. You’re in denial.

It’s as if someone stole your teenage years along with your plaid skirt and rubber wristbands and stomped on it. You can’t face the fact that your band isn’t that good anymore and you buy the album anyway, go to the concert anyway, and slate everyone who presents you with the facts.

Nobody likes to be wrong.

And wow, it's an abomination when someone doesn't even know the group whose posters littered your wall for years. A kid once came into my office at university asking if the song I was playing, Led Zeppelin's Kashmir, was the song from Godzilla. I wanted to wring his neck.

You take personal offence. It's cringe-worthy and makes you angry that people today don't appreciate the genius of Ozzy Osbourne. You feel as if your love has become a nonentity.

The feeling is also tied in with wishing those artists to be the best people, so our loving them is justified.

He may be a total loser, but he supports Oxfam and Amnesty and the entire album is made from recycled materials! Wowee!

The need for the people we idolise to be good people is so strong, that every publicity stunt becomes an act of selfless kindness that makes you like them even more; posting Facebook statuses about how great the group is, and retweet every announcement about their charity work. You deny vehemently that they wear fur or endorse products tested on animals.

You defend their criminal behaviour and blame drug problems on their fame and hard life.

They’re saints in your eyes.

And heaven forbid someone on a public forum has a negative opinion about the artist you consider yours.

You don your armour and go for the jugular. It doesn’t matter that Chris Brown beat up Rihanna. He’s so good looking!

You get into heated arguments over social networks, shaking hands typing emotional responses while thinking; “Idiotic, stupid, (expletive, expletive) moron!

“How dare they insult MY Michael Jackson?!”

No matter what the musicians we love do, we will always defend them. Even if the concert sucked, it’s great that you saw them on stage for a few hours, and every penny was worth it to hear ‘that song’.

Even if Jared Leto is a pretentious prick, 30 Seconds to Mars fans will see no wrong. His eyeliner is a form of self-expression.

It’s all about the music that speaks to us and how we connect with it. Once a musical connection is made, no amount of discussion, reasoning or slating can tear that love apart. In fact, more often than not, the negative being presented to you only makes the love stronger.

So what if the girl across the hallway doesn’t like The Beatles?

You may not know them personally, but 'I Want to Hold your Hand' was written for you. Yes, it was.