During my teenage years my biggest heroes were The Soundtrack of Our Lives. They were old farts playing very white, very male, psychedelic rock. I went to every show I could got to, I bought everything that was sold, knew the lyrics by heart and copied them to make my own songs. I even had a sweaty towel the drummer threw to me in my band shrine. I was obsessed.
And then one drunken teenage night I ditched them with a short you-don’t-progress-rant on the band’s forum. I had had enough. Their albums were not living up toy expectations and I was bored with the constant praise the band received in the forum.
The next morning I woke up to another member replying with a friendly I-believe-your-drunk-post.
I didn’t dare to reply and left the forum that day.