A subculture or group of like-minded individuals who identify with the conglomerate individuality associated to a musical style.
If you:
Drearily wear, mimic, or perform in any whole- or half-hearted way to a subculture whose actors dress in all black while painting their faces Powder white; drudge up the torment and failings of your creed/culture/society/life while drinking cup after cup of coffee at Perkins (Denny's is for poseurs)?
Have a flair for the dramatic, yet forced to work stage crew due to your crippling fear of public theatrical punditry; cross dressed at Regal Cinema at midnight (many, many times); not find it odd to have seen a man's full pubis through his boxers while he dropped his pants and danced like MC Hammer in front of a full movie theatre; bloviated, at length, about the unimpressive filmography of Tim Curry?
Celebrate the peerlessness of your peers who rhythmically claim to have thrived in the great slurry of the street (having grown up in Orange County); coordinate the color of your boxers with your crooked, slightly over-sized hat; ardently belie the countenance of all titular peace officers (except when directly counseled by The Man)?
Think a mandolin is a guitar and a banjo is a rhythm section; consider randomly bouncing and twirling a higher form of artistic, expressionistic dance; place hallucinogens at the top of the pyramid of the five herb groups; joined or enjoyed a drum circle; seen Phish live even once?
Then YOU belong to a Musicult!
If you:
Drearily wear, mimic, or perform in any whole- or half-hearted way to a subculture whose actors dress in all black while painting their faces Powder white; drudge up the torment and failings of your creed/culture/society/life while drinking cup after cup of coffee at Perkins (Denny's is for poseurs)?
Have a flair for the dramatic, yet forced to work stage crew due to your crippling fear of public theatrical punditry; cross dressed at Regal Cinema at midnight (many, many times); not find it odd to have seen a man's full pubis through his boxers while he dropped his pants and danced like MC Hammer in front of a full movie theatre; bloviated, at length, about the unimpressive filmography of Tim Curry?
Celebrate the peerlessness of your peers who rhythmically claim to have thrived in the great slurry of the street (having grown up in Orange County); coordinate the color of your boxers with your crooked, slightly over-sized hat; ardently belie the countenance of all titular peace officers (except when directly counseled by The Man)?
Think a mandolin is a guitar and a banjo is a rhythm section; consider randomly bouncing and twirling a higher form of artistic, expressionistic dance; place hallucinogens at the top of the pyramid of the five herb groups; joined or enjoyed a drum circle; seen Phish live even once?
Then YOU belong to a Musicult!
While relating to and distancing himself from a greater societal identity, local teenager Aiden affixed his Beats By Dre headphones, cranking the first (and only TRULY good) Pennywise album, riding in the backseat of his parents' 2012 Lincoln Navigator L, wishing he'd been born, like, 10 years earlier so people would 'get' him, thus inadvertently and immediately joining a decades old construct known as a Musicult.
by unitedstains March 17, 2017