I am a self-confessed rock fan and metal head, but I love good

Hear, O listeners, the spirited words of Chris McCausland: “I am a self-confessed rock fan and metal head, but I love good music, and forty years on the Pet Shop Boys still have it.” This statement, though wrapped in modern rhythm, carries a wisdom as enduring as the songs of the ancients. It tells us that true art is not bound by the walls of genre, nor by the fleeting fashions of an age, but by the eternal power of beauty and craft. For the soul that loves music is not chained to one sound alone, but rejoices wherever greatness is found.

When McCausland declares himself a rock fan and metal head, he speaks of loyalty to a tribe, to a sound forged in thunder and rebellion. Rock and metal, like the chants of warriors, are born of fire and defiance, carrying the roar of storms and the cry of freedom. Yet he does not close his ears to the gentler or more electronic strains of the Pet Shop Boys. Instead, he honors them as masters who, even after forty years, still command the stage of the world. Thus, he shows us that true devotion to art is not blind allegiance, but an openness to the many voices through which truth may sing.

The ancients knew this as well. In Greece, there were those who loved the austere harmonies of Sparta and those who loved the flowing melodies of Athens. Yet the wise man did not scorn one for the sake of the other; he listened, discerning the excellence in each. So too in India, the Vedas spoke of the different ragas—some fierce, some gentle, some meditative—each with its place in the cosmic order. The teaching is clear: music, in all its forms, is a river that takes many courses, but all lead back to the sea of the human soul.

Think also of Ludwig van Beethoven, whose storm-filled symphonies shook the very heavens, yet who in his late works created quartets so delicate they seemed spun of light. Had one listened only to his fury and ignored his tenderness, the fullness of his genius would have been lost. McCausland’s admiration for the Pet Shop Boys, despite his own allegiance to heavier sounds, mirrors this truth: greatness must be recognized wherever it blooms, whether in fire or in silk, whether in metal or in synth.

Yet there is something deeper still: time itself. He marvels that “forty years on, the **Pet Shop Boys still have it.” This is no small feat, for the world of music, like the tides, is ever shifting. Many rise in brilliance, only to fade into silence. But those who endure, those who hold the ear of generations, have touched something timeless. They have found the golden thread that binds human longing across decades. To recognize this is to honor perseverance, discipline, and the eternal spark of creativity.

The lesson for us is this: be loyal to what you love, but never let loyalty blind you to the excellence of others. Do not cling to one voice so tightly that you cannot hear another. True wisdom is to recognize greatness wherever it appears, to bow before skill and heart, whether it sings in a style you favor or not. And when you see those who endure across the years, honor them, for they remind us that art is not a passing flame but a torch that can burn for lifetimes.

Practically, this means: listen widely, with curiosity. If you are drawn to one genre, explore another; if you love only what is new, listen also to what has endured. Let your ears and your heart be generous. And when you find an artist who still creates with passion after decades, support them, celebrate them, and let their perseverance inspire your own work, whatever it may be.

Therefore, O seekers of harmony, let McCausland’s words guide you. Be steadfast in your loves, but open to greatness in all its forms. For the world is vast, and its music many-voiced. Rock, metal, synth, or symphony—each has its place, and all together form the chorus of humanity. And when you find those who endure, as the Pet Shop Boys have endured, let it remind you that art, like the human spirit, is capable of shining across the ages.