There’s no accounting for musical tastes

Recently, an angry reader sent me an email wishing death upon my dog in response to a review that I wrote of a Sade show.

I don't have a dog, so I feel for the guy. He wants his comeuppance, and as always, I'm here to help.

To this end, I thought I would provide some good cannon fodder for myself, because there are plenty of way more legitimate reasons to question my music tastes than my assessment of a Sade gig.

So, in the future, please feel free to incorporate any of the following facts into your stinging repudiations of my ability to do my job:

■ I once got thrown out of a Veruca Salt concert for crowd surfing. Not sure what's worse, attempting to mosh to these riot grrl-lite cream puffs or sneaking back into the show to do it some more. The '90s were funny times for totally inappropriate mosh pit outbursts, weren't they?

To wit, at a Chicago-area Lollapalooza gig in '95, I remember venturing up to the amphitheater lawn to join a circle pit for Pavement's pop confection "Cut Your Hair," which was kind of like starting a brawl at a bake sale.

■ I have never been in a kick-ass band of my own. "How many records have you sold?!" If you're a music critic, this is probably the most frequently endured rebuke you receive after calling out some hacky band that goes platinum with pabulum -- Creed, Nickelback, etc. -- without ever having been in a similarly lame band yourself.

It's a weak argument. Do you have to be a garbage man to know what trash is?

Besides, so what if said acts are popular? So is Taco Bell, but no one's arguing that the joint offers gourmet eats, right? But, hey, there's nothing wrong with liking crap as long as you recognize that it is, in fact, crap.

This brings me to my next point ...

■ I'd rather listen to the Dwarves than Steely Dan. When you're a critic, you're expected to dig certain bands or else suffer the wrath of pointy-headed music types -- now there's a serious threat, right? A Girl Scout's thumb-wrestling challenge is more intimidating.

Look, there's plenty of undeniably great bands whose awesomeness is unquestionable and easy to discern but whom I just don't care about. Steely Dan? Not interested. The Clash? Too busy listening to Zeke. The Replacements? Have always sounded kinda tame to me.

When you write about music, people assume that if you don't dig something personally, you're saying that it sucks or that you can't see any value in it.

Not true at all. It's just that there's no accounting for taste.

So I don't like your favorite band.

Big deal.

Shoot me -- just not my imagined dog, OK?

Contact reporter Jason Bracelin at jbracelin@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0476.