Aid Stations: The Case for Shitty Pop

One of my best friends is an ultrarunner.  As in, a marathon is a just a lil' warm-up for this man.

A couple weeks ago my relationship was in a flat spin that proved unrecoverable, and during this time, I of course leaned on friends for support.  Some readily hurled insults about my former significant other, while others focused their efforts on pumping me up with all sorts of praise (true and "iffy") to my character.  Both of these are fairly standard post-break-up methods used to cheer up friends, and over the years, I have certainly engaged in both as a friend myself.

This time, however, my UltraMan offered up something completely new in this situation:

...something that blew my mind....

...something that I initially rejected, thinking he had gone certifiably insane....

He offered up POP MUSIC.  More specifically, the worst kind of pop music you could imagine:  Britney Spears, Carly Rae Jepsen....the list goes on.

I felt the chunks start to rise from my belly, totally disgusted by what he was proposing, but more than that, disgusted that he would think I'd go for it, girl with refined music taste that I so arrogantly claim to be.  But then something gave me pause.

Maybe I should listen to him.  Maybe I should be less Ms. Rock Chick and more Open-Minded Musichead.  Maybe I shouldn't drown myself in Radiohead's "Black Star" this time, and instead look for something different.  But pop music?  Shitty pop music?  Oh, brother...

I reluctantly allowed him to continue.

He compared my state to a 100-mile race.  He explained how, just as in life, there are times during an ultra race where you feel worse than you've ever felt before.  Times when you want to give up.  Times when you can't envision yourself going even one step further.  But, he countered, it's all about getting to the next Aid Station.  Once you get there, all of a sudden you feel better than ever, and you have renewed energy to keep going.

That made sense to me.  But what, I thought, does that have to do with pop music?

UltraMan went on to explain that KDWB-style pop is the best music for running.  Upon the onslaught of argumentation, he cut me off, fully anticipating and squashing my adolescent fit.  He explained that Shitty Pop is perfect to run to--and to listen to when you just don't think things can get worse--because there is rarely, if ever, any emotional attachment to it.  The beat is typically strong (as evidence, we've all caught ourselves rocking out to Taio Cruz's "Dynamite", have we not?), and the lyrics are often so ridiculous that there's absolutely nothing we can do but smile, laugh and keep on going.

Smile, laugh and keep on going.  Strangely poignant.

Unlike our favorite songs--the songs that spur something deep inside, that remind us of another place, another time--Shitty Pop can and does offer a way out of emotion.  Shitty Pop's beat keeps our feet (and hearts) moving forward, because there's little that looking backward can do for us.  To start, UltraMan gave me "22" by Taylor Swift:

Unlike our favorite songs, Shitty Pop can't mess with our heads because there's no emotion attached to it.  (Some might argue that there was no emotion even going into the making of it, but that's neither here nor there.)  I was then prescribed "This Kiss" by Carly Rae Jepsen:

Unlike our favorite songs, Shitty Pop isn't attached to anyone we know (because we never listen to it!), so it allows our minds to be free and clear of the drama that comes along with "Oh, this song reminds me of so-and-so because we listened to it together during such-and-such".  And of course Britney's "'Til The World Ends" was forced upon me:

Somehow, it made sense.  I got it.  I started to listen, and as soon as I began sharing the merits of this theory with others, the recommendations came flying in.

"Oh, you have to listen to 'Good Life' by One Republic!"

"Ke$ha's 'Die Young' has a good beat and would qualify here!"

"Check out Flo Rida's 'Whistle' 'cause it's catchy, but 'I Cry' will make you want to dance!"

Now, all of this is not to say that I'm ready to surrender my vinyl collection, nor that I'll start exclusively listening to Clear Channel-fueled radio.  Not by any means.  Rather, this marks an important step in my education.  Musically, it's about swallowing some pride (and maybe a little self-respect, at times) and letting new music in.  Friendship-wise, it's about remembering that there's not much better than having your grown man UltraFriend queue up this teenybopper hit and give you his own Grammy-tastic rendition in the car:

So, somewhere in this process of putting one foot in front of the other and moving forward does Shitty Pop become actual good music?  I guess that's up to the listener.

For this girl, Shitty Pop is serving a purpose: getting me to the next Aid Station.