Rock music, my chosen genre, is somewhat embarrassing when distilled to its purest essence. For example, I usually enjoy listening to Kiss songs. Good luck resisting the power-pop perfection of “Strutter,” but I still think no one should come near me while that song is playing. (Nobody knocks anymore?) Rock music definitely has plenty of artistic examples, but its strong DNA is always about adults in silly costumes screaming about heartbreak.
I don't think Spotify, which I frequent, appreciates the questionable excesses of rock 'n' roll as much as I do. That's not necessarily a terrible thing. No one should just sit and listen to his 1970s arena rock. But I have a theory as to why the streaming giant favors a certain softer style of music. Perhaps the most ideal streaming customer is someone who uses the service while working, accumulating hours of passive playback. However, you can't turn on Kiss while you're at work. You'll quickly become irritated by repetition, obnoxious lyrics, and lackluster production, and want to switch to something more soothing. And Spotify, which is adept at recommending music hit after hit through its autoplay algorithm, will be happy to offer you an alternative. In my experience with Spotify at the wheel, it does a great job of finding music to play comfortably in the background. Whenever I turn on autoplay and listen, my surroundings seem like coffee shops, no matter where I am. In other words, this platform doesn't really understand or effectively promote classic rock, the core of the subgenre I most covet.
Classic rock continues to change in real time, but you're probably familiar with the unique characteristics of classic rock. Based on his DJ tendencies of classic rock playing, at the moment he's talking about music made from the mid-'60s to his early 2000s (sorry, I don't like it as much as you do) ). But songs aren't defined by age, and Hoobastank's schmaltzy hit “The Reason” is more than 20 years old, even though it doesn't qualify as classic rock. But Red Hot Chili Peppers' war-torn ballad “Scar Tissue,” released just a few years ago, fits the bill. Classic rock is the kind of music your suburban dad would listen to on his speakers while washing his car in the driveway. Achingly masculine, yet beautifully simple.
When you pull that car out of the driveway, an alternative to streaming-induced mediocrity awaits. Driving through the concrete expanses of Los Angeles, I found myself tuning into 95.5 KLOS, a local classic rock station. It's easy to get sentimental about rock history here. Just around the corner is Whiskey A Go Go, Laurel Canyon, and Sunset Sound. Everywhere you look there are ghosts wearing leather pants. L.A. isn't built on subtlety, so it's often best to go loud. A little extra radio crackle is fine. Everything is dirty here.