Taste: Why can't everybody just get along?

We came late to the party. What can I say?
It's almost halfway through January, and we're just now getting around to printing our Top 10s.
You're probably asking yourself, "What gives, Dive?" Maybe you're even asking, "Why bother?"
Well, for critics, the year-end list, as arbitrary and divisive as it inevitably turns out to be, is an important ritual. It's a chance to show some real enthusiasm for the art forms we spend our lives trying to know intimately.
But - most importantly, for the sake of this column - it's also a measuring stick for our readers.
Even if only indirectly, we critics make having good taste into a job. And our readers are right to judge us on our taste.
But there's a crucial question in that idea: What exactly is good taste?
And that, friends, is a dangerous question.
As a critic, my taste is a function of my knowledge. The more I know, the broader my tastes become. The broader my base of knowledge and appreciation, the more diverse my taste can be. And since one can't really claim to have good taste in something (popular music in my case) as a whole without at least a modicum of understanding about the whole of something, diversity equates to taste, right?
Well, almost.
On top of the burden of knowledge comes the burden of argument.
Because the things we like are so subjective and personal, we must be able to defend, or at least explain, our choices.
But as with anything else in this world, as much as you defend your position, someone is always going to disagree. Whether you're going with "I like what I like because I like it," (a perfectly valid argument, though I'm reluctant to admit it) or a rambling thesis on the ability of Wolves In The Throne Room's recent album, Two Hunters, to evoke not only an emotional sense of lonesome desolation, but also to create a dark, cold sense of specific place and time that manifests itself both physically and metaphorically in the context of the record, making it an easy choice for year's best, you're not wrong.
But you're not entirely right, either.
At the end of the day, we like what we like because we like it, and sometimes something special will come along we get so excited about that it leads to rambling, abstract theses that try so hard to pin down exactly what about it is so great but often end up just expressing an all-out enthusiasm that should be argument enough.
So what, then, is the job of a critic?
All year long the critic tries to keep an open mind to all styles, to review in context to the cultural whole and to disregard taste as much as possible.
But it's impossible to do that.
So, once a year we get the opportunity to let our tastes run rampant, ranking the items we feel were the best, for reasons ranging from a perceived cultural importance to the mere fact that we liked something a whole heck of a lot.
As you peruse our Top-10 lists, judging Diversions on its collective taste, I'd like to think there will be something that might strike your fancy.
But maybe there won't be. Then what?
You could write in to tell us how wrong we were for overlooking your favorite movie of the year or how overrated you think our favorite record is. And I'll read that letter, and I'll probably disagree with it.
And sooner or later we'll both come to the conclusion that we like what we like because we like it. And you don't have to agree with somebody's taste to respect it.

The Daily Tar Heel, Diversions section, 1/10/08