I used to listen to bands like Yes and Jethro Tull that included a vocalist. With the sole exceptions of David Bowie, who I stopped buying over 40 years ago, and Harry Nilsson, who has been dead almost that long, I have never liked music by a vocalist. In fact most of them, and nearly all female ones, give me splitting headaches.
I love music. I play classical guitar, flutes, and saxophones. I listen to classical music from the oldest we have to music so new the ink isn’t dry. I love a lot of jazz, I liked rock until the late 70s, I like some electronic dance music. I love electroacoustic and experimental music with computers. I like dark ambient music and even the genres known as power electronics and Noise. My musical tastes are broadly eclectic.
I can’t stand pop.
I was lucky enough to grow up in the greatest era of creative music the world has ever seen; the Beatles last-recorded album was my first personal purchase as a new album. I saw Yes, The Who, Traffic, the Rolling Stones, Jethro Tull, Don McLean, David Bowie, Johnny and Edgar Winter. And last of all, in 1992, Tangerine Dream.
Pop music makes me think of the toothbrush you find in the bathroom in a hotel, replaced when you get back that evening, meant for a single use. Disposable.
Listening to pop music feels like being yelled at by infants from a culture whose language I don’t speak. It hurts my ears and I can’t understand any of it. If you like it, knock yourself out but be prepared to lose interest in music altogether pretty soon.