After spending a whole schooling career trying to socially ‘fit’ into trends and a collective identity, we grow up to paradoxically discover that to really be ‘cool’ we must stand out. Musical taste has always been a strong signifier of identity, and niche music has therefore always been a way in which to acquire individuality and authenticity that ‘sticks out’.
People have always revelled in the ability to plunge deep into the sea of boundless musical genres, blends and styles. It’s a talking point, something to meet people over, bond over, even fall in love over. And finding the niche corners of this musical ocean opens gateways to small islands and people who have also washed up on the shores of unique musical tastes.
Niche music permits closeness to the music. We can broadcast a more specific personality, something that feels wholly and utterly ours, deepening our attachment to it, and experience listening to it. This closeness also translates to the other people who have jumped over the hurdles of generic and popular music to end up in the same niche corner of the musical world that you have. The world of Reddit highlights these communities; small pockets on the internet of people bonding over ‘Japanese jazz fusion artists to recommend?’ and ‘Is anyone here familiar with Serbian Turbo Folk?’.
The desire for individuality is nothing new, but now musical streaming is easily accessible and all music, niche or not, is available to everyone at all times, the struggle to stand out intensifies. Algorithms can often create a niche selection of music that feels personal but is mass-distributed (a niche music-lovers worst nightmare).
So how do the youth counteract this depersonalisation and algorithmic relationship to music: they revive analogue media. It is impossible to ignore the rise in vinyl collection amongst Gen Z in a bid to claim originality. A study conducted by the Human Flourishing Lab found that 60 per cent of Gen Z adults said they wished they could return to a time before everyone was “plugged in”. Records become a tangible token of allegiance to an artist or a genre. It has taken this loyal listener time, money, and effort to seek out a particular record; they didn’t just hit play, they searched.
Does this birth the infamous ‘musical snob’? We have all seen people turn their noses up at your secret love for Ed Sheeran’s ‘Perfect’ or a bit of unashamed 2010s Big Top 40 action. This raises the more uncomfortable question, about whether niche music is a genuine preference, or a performance of authenticity and a kind of credibility that comes from knowing something that others do not?
Sociologist Sarah Thornton coined this phenomenon ‘subcultural capital’, meaning status is earned from hard-to-access knowledge that one must actively seek. This acquisition of capital is a process, gained through knowledge of the scene, appearance through style and aesthetic and material symbols and objects. And whether this desire for subcultural capital is rooted in either authentic or performative attachment to the ‘niche’, it can be flaunted. I now gain the privileged position of being able to ‘put you on’ to music, and bestow upon you the capital that I worked to acquire. I then become, in the eyes of everyone and to myself, a provider of authenticity and can give out invitations to join my niche corner of the musical world. Consider yourself lucky to be invited.
However, with Urban Outfitters selling vinyls as ‘cosy-girl-décor’ and Primark and H&M producing ‘vintage’ band t-shirts, the lines between niche taste and performative acquisition of subcultural capital are blurred. High-street ready neat packages of musical symbols and aesthetics complicates belonging to these sub-cultures. I believe this does not undermine niche taste, but it does bear the question of the ability to identify the difference between cultural performativity and authentic musical obsession.
Perhaps, in this vein, the niche is becoming somewhat mainstream. Music fanatics for decades have revelled in finding their small music-obsessed communities that are characterised by small music venues, dissonant chords, niche instruments, and unique tunes from small corners of the world. Certainly, it celebrates what is beautiful about music; people find each other, join together, and bond over an obsession and appraisal. However, in today’s digitalised world, it seems like Gen Z are pushing back against the algorithmic and instantaneous world of music and have something to prove, fearing an ocean of algorithms, pre-made playlists, and Spotify ‘Discover Weekly’ suggestions. Ultimately, authentic or not, it does not bother me. If it means less skips, more time spent searching, discovering new music styles and meeting different people, niche music lovers should keep doing what they are doing.
“Vinyl” by stevecadman is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.