Anna Minard claims to "know nothing about music." For this column, we force her to listen to random records by artists considered to be important by music nerds.


My lovely coworker (and local DJ) Megan Seling gave me this Operation Ivy album a long time ago because the pie chart of her heart has an entire slice set aside just for them. When I told her this week that I was finally listening to Energy, she smiled the biggest smile I've ever seen, and I started to feel scared. What if I didn't like it? What if I had to go back over to her desk and say, "Megan, this is terrible and it makes my ears hurt. I will never understand why you love this crap." What if, after that, I could always detect under her polite smiles a tinge of disgust? WHAT IF OP IVY RUINED EVERYTHING?

And then I listened to it, and... ugh, I couldn't stand it! I found myself making faces while I listened, the face you make when eating something gross. My sour music face and I walked around the city feeling bummed. Op Ivy were grating and kind of annoying, and I didn't understand the point, because the lyrics didn't sound like they were really deep or anything. They just sounded like "All I know is that I don't know/All I know is that I don't know nothin'," which, come on.

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