Buried in her closet, my mother had a t-shirt that read: "DISCO IS DEAD, ROCK AND ROLL IS HERE TO STAY." It only came out on rare occasions, but whenever it did, it stuck with me. At the time I didn't fully grasp the distinctions between the styles, and I was certainly oblivious to the deeper undertones behind that moment. But what I did understand was that music was never just background noise. It was a battleground of taste, meant to be analyzed, compared, scored like an invisible competition. You were expected to pick sides, to declare winners, even though the game itself was unwinnable. The real divide, I eventually realized, wasn't between the genres at all, but between those who took the contest seriously and those who were just passing through, content with whatever the radio served up. And I knew exactly which camp I belonged to.