Songs We Used to Hate (But Now We Love)
The Milk Crate staff considers the music we didn’t like at first, but grew to love. A portion of this article is featured in our Spring 2022 zine “Guilty Pleasures”. This is the extended version.
Lily Hartenstein
Hope in Suffering (Escaping Oblivion and Overcoming Powerlessness) by Yves Tumor
Back when I was compiling WECB’s Albums of the Decades list, there were a lot of sections with several-way ties, and I brought them to the Milk Crate staff to hash them out. We knew by the ranking system that Safe in the Hands of Love (2018) was somewhere around the high twenties in our top 100, but had to place it. I had never heard of Yves Tumor until that week, but the two staffers arguing fiercely for the album were noisecore gatekeepers I often clashed with on principle as I found their overall approach to music journalism pretentious. One listen to “Hope In Suffering…”, a spacey and jarring commotion I can only describe as a Gregorian chant of the 23rd century, and I dug my feet in to declare myself against experimental noise bros. Safe in the Hands of Love made number 27 from the efforts of my fellow staffers, but I didn’t revisit Tumor’s work until the release of Heaven to a Tortured Mind in 2020. It’s a masterpiece, and the sudden recognition of Tumor’s genius made me realize how wrong I was to judge this album so fiercely. In response to the somewhat hostile environment I found entering music criticism spaces, I had grown overdefensive and decided against an album just to be contrary; my aversion to pretension made me pretentious in my own way. The aforementioned noise bros showed me so much incredible music in their time on Milk Crate, and although I maintain my arguments about the downfalls of musical elitism, I remember my times arguing with them in the WERS conference room fondly.
Sophie Severs
We Will Rock You by Queen
It was kindergarten, and I was a timid little girl stuck in an afterschool science program with a bunch of rambunctious first grade boys. Instead of participating in the cool science experiments, the boys chose to perform their own rendition of Queen’s “We Will Rock You” on the daily. It is safe to say that they soon became the bane of my kindergarten experience. The song stomped and clapped itself into my brain, and from then on I could only associate it with boyish immaturity. Luckily, my aversion to Queen melted away when my mother began playing a Queen’s Greatest Hits CD in the car on the drive home from the fourth grade. If my Mom enjoyed the band, then so could I. Thanks to her, I discovered that there was much more to Queen than purely stomps and claps, and I have loved listening since.
Izzy Desmarais
Morning Dew by Grateful Dead
Here I am again, talking about how much I used to hate the Grateful Dead. It took me a long time to appreciate the artform that is psychedelic rock, despite being introduced to it at such an early age. To be more specific, it took conducting extensive research on the 1960s hippie counterculture and detailed analyses of Grateful Dead songs. While watching the documentary Long Strange Trip, a good ten minutes were dedicated to the 1972 live performance of “Morning Dew” at the Lyceum Theatre in London. Their sound editor, Dennis “Wiz” Leonard, described such a religious experience while listening to this song, I just had to listen for myself. While I did listen to the studio version opposed to the live recording (I still can’t bring myself to sit through twenty minutes of improvisation), I can definitely understand the hype surrounding this song. The lyrics are beautifully haunting as Garcia describes the futility of life while in a nuclear wasteland. While I’ll never be able to trip on acid in the general admission lawn at a Dead show in 1972, I have bawled my eyes out until I couldn’t breathe anymore with this song playing in the background while showering, which are both disorienting experiences in their own right.
Everly Orfanedes
Wide Open Spaces by The Chicks
We are all too familiar with that classic scenario where you ask someone what kind of music they listen to, and they claim they “love all kinds of music except country.” My toxic trait is that I used to be that person. Maybe it was because in the developmental years I wanted to seem cool, or because the twang didn’t sit right with me, but overtime I found myself discovering my soft spot for country music. Specifically, country by women, I’m still hesitant towards the “trucks and beer” aspect of the genre. As I’ve grown older, I’ve found myself beginning to accept all parts of myself, and things that once felt embarrassing I’ve embraced. This heavily applies to what kinds of music I felt “embarrassed” to listen to. I realized that hating one specific genre of music simply because a lot of people do is like, really dumb. The Chicks fell victim to my immature mindset, but in highschool I discovered my love for their hit song “Wide Open Spaces,” and eventually the whole album.
Will Ingman
Your Love by The Outfield
“Appearances can be deceiving” is the simplest way I can phrase my thoughts on “Your Love”. The people I asked (and yes, I asked people about this) gave pretty consistent feedback that no, Will, you do not seem like someone who enjoys British power-pop. And for the longest time, I didn’t! And to some degree, I still don’t! But when a certain song gnaws at you, really drives its way into your head, and it refuses to leave, your preconceived notions are cast into the wind. Hell, The Outfield aren’t even particularly notable among British power-pop: critics call them “numbingly derivative…with none of the [Cars, Journey, or Foreigner] style”, while contemporary listeners considered them “poppy, Canadian, Top 40 drivel”. I won’t argue against any of these stances, but a very primal part of me cannot resist a good pop harmony. “Your Love” isn’t experimental, it isn’t ground-breaking, but there’s something refreshing about how uncomplicated the song is.
Adri Pray
Don’t Wanna Fight by Alabama Shakes
This song irked me a lot when I was younger. It was my father who introduced this song to me, initially, and because he loved it, I was subjected to it constantly. The way the singer started the song annoyed me to no end but I endured it because I liked the walking bass line and the rest of the actual music. Listening to it now, fully moved out of my home and away from my father, it gives me a sense of nostalgia and longing for my younger years when we would go on drives and listen to mixtapes from his teenage years. When I’m lost in life, I put on “Don’t Wanna Fight,” and I think about what advice my father would give me. Since I started college, I listen to this song at least once a week, and, with my father’s help, created a playlist of my own of songs my father and I mutually enjoyed off his mixtapes.
Julia Norkus
My God by The Killers (feat. Weyes Blood)
Growing up, I had an odd relationship with religion. Raised Catholic, I didn’t feel a strong connection to church and that expression of spirituality and I eventually migrated away from it. As a major fan of The Killers, I knew that lead singer Brandon Flowers was and is Mormon, but it was rarely reflected in their music. When they started to release albums after 2012, there were lots of religious undertones that I hadn’t recognized before. I was a little averse to the idea of The Killers bringing in religion considering my rocky relationship with it. However, after about a year since its release, I gave Imploding the Mirage (2021) a chance, and it’s now speaking to me in ways I could never have imagined. Their song “My God” from title alone made me worried, but after giving it an honest chance, I realized that it carried messages that far ascended the concepts of religion and spirituality. It carries a message of release, and allowing a weight to be lifted by a force outside of yourself. I think for me it was saying that it’s okay if you aren’t able to do it all on your own.
Nora Onanian
Short Skirt / Long Jacket by Cake
When I first heard “Short Skirt / Long Jacket” by CAKE, everything about it annoyed me. The whole premise of listing out attributes — most entirely contradicting and unattainable — that a man wanted in a woman felt wrought with sexism. The noise that introduces the song directly after the not-quite-pleasing-to-the-ear extended trumpet note sounded like it was pulled from the game “Bop It.” And don’t even get past-me started on the cowbell occasionally inserted in the backing beat. One Christmas, my sister even ironically gifted me a mini skirt and a long jacket due to my vocal distaste of it. But somewhere along the lines, I stopped rolling my eyes when John McCrea held the word “long” for nearly 4 seconds. I sang along with the lyrics, especially my favorite — “She’s changing her name / From Kitty to Karen / She's trading her MG / For a white Chrysler LeBaron.” And I realized that just like all of the odd sonic choices CAKE made, the lyrics were written with a satirical intent worthy of appreciation. Now, in a way I never imagined I would, I crank the volume up when “Short Skirt / Long Jacket” comes on and joyfully ride the wave of self-empowerment that the 3 minutes and 24 seconds provide.
Karenna Umscheid
the last great american dynasty by Taylor Swift
It’s difficult to think about a time when I wasn’t a die-hard Taylor Swift fan. But yes, as a child, I was obsessed with Katy Perry, and sided with her in the fight against Taylor. After they became friends, I decided I could learn to love Taylor Swift too. Watching Miss Americana, I became entranced with Swiftie lore. But it wasn’t until I volunteered on Ed Markey’s congressional re-election campaign that I truly fell in love with her music. On every virtual phone bank event, the track “the last great american dynasty”, off her surprise album Folklore, would play in the background. I became obsessed with her descriptive songwriting, specific enough to document her own stories, but vague enough to apply to fans' lives as well. I’ll never stop thinking about what would have happened if I had become a fan earlier, or how my life would be if I hadn’t become one at all. Still, I’ve had a marvelous time listening to Swift over and over.
Nia Tucker
ride the dragon by FKA Twigs
It would be sacrilegious to say I hated fellow Capricorn FKA Twigs when she first appeared on the music soundscape, but I did. Something about her wispy vocals never did it for me and I tried so hard as a young 16 year old still getting all their music recommendations from the Tumblr zeitgeist. The only songs that eventually managed to make it to my playlists until very recently, were “Lights On” from her first album, LP1 (2014), and “holy terrain” from her acclaimed album, MAGDALENE, in 2019. So, when her newest project, the Caprisongs (2022) mixtape was announced, I wasn’t very enthused. I figured it would be another sparse and breathy track-filled project that I couldn’t connect to. But, from the opening track, “ride the dragon,” I was left in awe. Twigs speaks constantly with a core of vulnerability and rawness that others try to shroud, and it’s not just her lyrics, but her voice control and dedication to the idea that music is performance art, that prove that she is one of the greatest artists of our generation. Caprisongs is subtle, fun, rough, honest, brutal and confident wrapped all into one, and I see now that that is what Twigs has exuded all along. “ride the dragon” is a song that not only has stayed on repeat since its release early this year, but its message—that you are in control of your own destiny and autonomy—is something that I feel wholly empowered by. In the wake of admittance that she was abused by former boyfriend, Shia LaBoeuf, and her history of dating other famed white men who have their audiences abuse her in different ways, I find the way she plays with the deliate nature of her voice alongside often heavier instrumentals, to be orchestral. Twigs knows what she’s doing, and from the start of the career has never comprised her talent to create something that didn’t speak innately to her experiences in life.
Harry Bates
Diary by Bread
Years ago, my mum gave my older brother Graham her beloved Best of Bread album for his record collection. From then on, for months on end, my house exploded with the sound of Bread ‘73, specifically this song. I swear he must’ve run that record dull with its endless spinning – no wonder why his table motor busted. He would call me into his room every time, and say something along the lines of “Listen to these lyrics! Isn’t it great?” There’s something about forcing someone to listen to music that inevitably makes the music in question lose all possible attractiveness. It eventually took years for me to not skip over this song immediately, until one day, during a severe episode of homesickness, when I stumbled upon the fabled track. It brought me closer to home, away from the chaos of Beantown and back to the apple trees and crisp air of the Souhegan Valley. At heart, I suddenly didn’t feel so far away from the family I love so much. Bread’s “Diary” is now one of my favorite songs. It reminds me that tastes change and perspectives shift, but memories stick.
Maura Cowan
Favor by Julien Baker
“Julien Baker’s style,” I once said to a friend, “just worked best for me when I was at my worst.” I was being flippant, but there’s some truth to that: in 2017 during a depressive episode, I discovered Sprained Ankle, and when her sophomore album Turn on the Lights dropped that same year, the two became the soundtrack of a very tough few months. Her deeply confessional and often self-effacing lyricism, spare instrumentals, and achingly powerful vocal style reflected so much I was feeling about myself and my life at that moment. To this day, those two albums have stuck with me as some of my favorites from my mid-teens. The past few years, however, have been kinder to me than those days were… and my improved mental health was perhaps part of the reason that Baker’s third release, Little Oblivions, did not strike my core quite like its predecessors did. But with a year of retrospect, “Favor” is the song from that album that I feel I will carry with me forever. It grew on me purely on its own merits, despite my initial misgivings– it is just perfectly constructed, representative of all of Baker’s biggest strengths and deeply relatable in ways I may never be able to article. Oh Julien, oh 15-year-old me, I will never truly leave you behind.