The Joys Of Blasphemy

I, Paul Nair, being of sound mind and body, do hereby confess to the following atrocities:

1) Immensely liking the 2003 Good Charlotte single "The Anthem"
2) Owning an extensive amount of Dipset-related merchandise, including but not limited to: various mix tapes and solo albums by such visions of mediocrity as J.R. Writer, Purple City and Juelz Santana; a copy of the group's straight-to-DVD crime flick Killa Season; and last but not least, a red, white and blue Diplomats hat given to me in jest one Christmas. I wear it with pride in the secrecy of my apartment, late at night.
3) Harboring a profound love for 10,000 Maniacs' excellent MTV Unplugged recording.
4) Possessing a general disdain for and disinterest in the entire catalog of Led Zeppelin, excluding the song "Going To California," which was foisted upon me by an 8th grade crush and therefore will forever be inextricably linked to Springtime, flutters of the heart, and other schmaltzy, Hallmark card emotions.

It feels good to get this off my chest. Not just good -- fantastic. Readers will scowl; some will probably lose whatever modicum of respect they had for me. A few might even sweep an arm across their desk in a rage, knocking their laptops and important papers to the floor. I don't care. It's thoroughly cathartic to finally spill these feelings out into the open.

Why is it that we harbor such guilty pleasures when it comes to music? Of the four items above, only close friends know two, because they've either lived with me or spent enough time in my presence to find out. Some chuckled when browsing through my iTunes and finding a veritable Library Of Congress catalog of the aforementioned Harlem rap cabal's musical curse. Others cast a nervous glance in my direction. I've come to find that they were usually only half-joking.

And Led Zeppelin; well, suffice to say that I've been subject to lectures, reproach, admonishment and flat-out scorn for that transgression. My boss even marched into my office once upon hearing of this and foisted upon me an entire four-disc retrospective of their work. It was all I could do to force a smile and make empty promises of fully hearing them out before he finally withdrew and I deleted the newly ripped audio files from my computer. I will not waver in my judgment. My assessment of Robert Plant is final.

Now, for the other two, well, those were my deepest secrets. I still can't quite believe that Good Charlotte was capable of making any sort of sound that appealed to me, let alone an entire track. There's just something so profoundly annoying about them -- the pseudo-punk look, the acknowledgment of seminal D.C. groups as influences -- that I was amazed when suddenly I found myself humming their siren song while in traffic or the grocery store. I knew I would have to keep my secret shame hidden, and to this day the MP3 sits not with the rest of my music but under a clandestine folder marked "Audio Settings." Here too resides the Maniacs album, that brilliant display of live ability and masterful songwriting complete with Natalie Merchant's effusive and emotionally precise vocal delivery.

(I tried explaining this to my best friend once, after we'd had a few drinks and the spirit of confession was running high. He literally smacked his forehead and began muttering "oh no, oh no." So much for bonding through indignity...)

So now that I've made my plunge into the bright light of admission, I'd like to hear from you. The readers of HuffingtonPost.com are blessed with anonymity, so I expect nothing less than the most salacious of disclosures. Do you think Double Nickels On The Dime is nothing but amateurish claptrap? Is "A Bay Bay" your latest hip-hop crush? Don't be afraid. It's only through honesty that we may move forward as listeners and embrace the previously reprehensible.