There is an old saying: “to love the answers you must love the questions.”
In musical terms, I would claim to love good music you must love bad music.
Or if not “love bad” maybe I mean the reflex that goes into making bad.
Not much separates David Guetta and Celine Dion (not even language), Celine is overwrought, over performed and stilted. Guetta is cool, 127, hip. But you can’t really grasp what one is doing and not UNDERSTAND what the other is doing. It is the same art form distilled in different ways: Brandy, or Wine, or fermented wine.
If you had two children, one was a loser, the other a great success, the other a failure: don’t you love both. Bad music is your failure child. It is the attempt that doesn’t quite make it. It isn’t there though it moves in the same circles as those that are there.
I watch lots of bands, sometimes bands I know don’t have it, and yet, sometimes, I just love em even though they suck, even though I don’t know what the fuck they are thinking of. I love the intuitive intellect that drive them to transmogrify their feelings into a different idiom. I love the badness of what they do because if I didn’t love the badness of what they do I couldn’t love what great musicians do.