I've only recently gotten used to having Spotify in my life. When I joined in August 2011, it basically felt like the final frontier of getting music from the internet. Sure, you could torrent any album you wanted anywhere, depending on how strong of a guilty conscience you had about it, but now you didn't have to. Everything was just right in front of you. This was already partially true with Grooveshark, and even Youtube, but even with those you had to go through the process of searching for a given song. Now, every album a made ever made is just right in front of you. In the two minutes or so it takes you to download Spotify, you essentially have a library of popular music through the ages right in front of you. It felt like the music industry waving the white flag. Telling us to take what we wanted, just as long as they surrendered on their own terms. It's been great for the purposes of listening to whatever you want, but Spotify became even more fun once users had the option to make their listening choices public.

That's when things became both hilarious, and a little bit embarrassing. After a month or so of being amused by the listening choices of my Facebook friends, I decided to make my Spotify public. Within a day, I had been thoroughly mocked for openly enjoying Metro Station's 2007 smash "Shake It." You're probably laughing at me right now, aren't you? Well, bite me. It's a fun song, even if Miley Cyrus's brother is a bit of a jerk. Another memorable moment came when I decided to enjoy some old school Linkin Park, and one my more indie-minded Facebook friends simply wrote "hahahahahaha." I may be leaving out a "ha" or two, but you get the picture. Now, I could explain why I think Linkin Park are a legitimately solid band, but that's an issue for another post. The point is, once my Spotify was public, any claim to indie cred I may have staked was firmly out the window. I listen to tons of uncool music, and now the whole world knows it.

And you know what, I'm happy. There's something genuinely freeing about admitting you like some of the lamer music out there. I mean, how long can you and your friends argue about who hates Nickelback the most? Everyone has their guilty pleasures, and Spotify forces out into the open. A few weeks ago, a friend of mine was teasing another friend of mine for listening to Jesse McCartney's 2004 hit "Beautiful Soul." I wanted to join in, but the truth is, I don't think that song is half bad. Don't get me wrong, when it came out, I hated it, and I hated Jesse McCartney for having the surname of a freaking Beatle when he was unloading his schlock upon the universe. But fluffy pop songs tend to grow on you over time, and "Beautiful Soul" made its way into my drunken late-night listening habits, somewhere between Roxette's "It Must Have Been Love," and White Lion's "Wait." If you already thought my taste in music was bad, the more beer I drink, the worse it gets.

There's something strangely egalitarian about our listening choices public. No alleged music snob is as snobby as they claim to be. Everyone has a Katy Perry song or five that they think is actually pretty okay. We have the option to make our Spotify listening choices private, but I don't see the point. Why be embarrassed because you listened to a ridiculous song that half of your friends probably secretly like too. I thought Spotify would be known for the being the music industry's last stand before waving the white flag to the internet, but now I think it's true legacy will be forcing to be honest about some of the music we like. I still like plenty of critically respected music, but I like my share of crap too. And thanks to Spotify, I will no longer be ashamed of it.