I feel like history caught up with me when it comes to my #9 album of 2003, Jewel’s 0304.
The earnest acoustic singer-songwriter’s abrupt move into dance-pop territory was greeted with suspicion and derision at the time. Jewel was called a sell-out who embarrassed herself by embracing her sexuality and exploring a musical genre so far outside her wheelhouse. But I kinda loved it.
What, exactly, is a guilty pleasure?
Is it something you genuinely think is good even though it’s not considered “cool” to like it? If that’s the case, John Mayer and Counting Crows are guilty pleasures. But I don’t look at those acts that way — not at all.
Is it something you liked once upon a time and now you’re a little embarassed to admit you liked it, but not embarassed enough to get rid of it? That makes a little more sense to me, although I did a major CD purge a few years back and probably cleared out any candidates for that category.
So looking at my current collection, I’d define a guilty pleasure as something even I don’t really think is any good but somehow I enjoy listening to it anyway. And I have just the CD in mind.
Meet Me In Montauk 