Essay

I Don’t Hear Music in Genres, Do You?

"I feel more than I listen to music": a reflection on music genres, why they exist, and why it’s time to break the labels.
Lou Rochdi

May 8, 2025

Photo by David Pupăză on Unsplash

If there’s one type of question I’ve never been able to answer simply, it's: 'What kind of music do you like?'.

It’s a classic small-talk icebreaker but the unspoken pressure to choose just one thing, one genre, stumps me every. single. time. How do I explain that The Neighbourhood’s I Love You. is probably my favorite album of all time, but I don’t actually enjoy most songs in this alt-rock universe? Or that I could listen to anything by Mac Miller on repeat, yet overall I tend to press skip on rap?

I cannot pick a favorite genre.

I don't experience music in genres. I experience music emotionally. I feel music more than I listen to music.

I've tried to look for a common thread, but I can rarely find the words to explain why I love the songs I do. It's not because of a certain type of rhythm or a specific key. It's not even the timbre of a voice or the meaning of the lyrics. What makes me press replay on a song is the way the music plays with my heart. And there's no consistent pattern. I've had phases of my life where I only listened to K-pop while knowing zero Korean, then weeks later, fell into an EDM rabbit hole after claiming to dislike it for years. Now, my playlists are a messy collection of scattered songs that do not make sense together but each made sense emotionally at a point in time.

The messy collection of scattered songs, by me.

Another question I get a lot as someone who works in music is: 'Who do you work with?'. When the name doesn't ring a bell, it's always followed by: 'What kind of music do they make?'. I've never been able to describe any artist that I worked with in one single genre. Take Joji for an example. He is commonly labeled R&B, yet his sound is heavily hip-hop inspired, and some tracks are straight-up pop ballads. Back then, I’d just say 'sad boy music' because honestly, that felt more accurate than any official genre tag. It’s what his music feels like, the emotional world his songs creates.

When I think of the artists I love -especially the ones who have been around for a while- they rarely stick to one genre.

They experiment. They mix. They merge.
Just like I go through phases as a listener, they go through phases as creators.

So why are we still so obsessed with labeling music and artists by genre? Genres are useful mainly for ranking, awards, and (official) playlists. They're tools for people who need to compare, compete, or categorize, and they often do a terrible job at that.

That's how we end up with big friction points: fanbases arguing, critics debating, and artists being boxed in. Look at the drama around Beyoncé calling Cowboy Carter a Country album. Is it 100% Country? Not exactly. But is it 100% Pop? Absolutely not! The truth is, it pulled from multiple genres, and that should be okay.


Historically, genres weren't just creative labels, they were commercially defined to help radio sort and sell music. Formats like Top 40, Adult Contemporary, Hip-Hop, and Country became essential for radio programming. And for a long time, artists were boxed into shaping their sound to fit the system. If your music didn’t match a format, it often didn’t get played.

But here's the thing: many of the genre definitions were solidified between the 1920s and 1950s and have stayed surprisingly rigid ever since. Meanwhile, our instruments, recording tools, and creative possibilities have exploded.

@rachelchinouriri on Instagram

Worse, these genres were shaped by the politics and social structures at the time, and they still carry those outdated biases. Many Black artists today continue to battle racial and genre stereotyping, often being labeled Hip-Hop or R&B even when their sound doesn’t remotely fit. Take Rachel Chinouriri who publicly pushed back to be recognized as an alternative indie pop artist because despite her sound, people kept labeling her R&B based solely on her skin color. Similarly, Tyla, won the best Afrobeats song at the VMAs in 2024 despite the fact she does not make Afrobeats, but simply because she is South African. She even called this out in her acceptance speech.

This raises a bigger question: What is the point of a genre system if it cannot describe an artist's work adequately, and therefore fails to evaluate it fairly?

Some may say we could redefine genres, and adapt it to today's music. But this would simply be redefining boxes that will change again within a few years. Worse, they’ll continue to exclude the artists who don’t want to (or can’t) be contained at all.


Yet, the most compelling argument against genre categorization is the rise of AI. AI thrives in a box. It will soon generate perfect pop formulas, flawlessly executed choruses, tracks that fit neatly into playlists with no friction. So when machines can do “perfect,” what sets human music apart? 

Imperfection. Surprise. Emotion. Songs that break the rules. Tracks that veer left when you expect right. Records that go beyond the line, and pull directly on your heartstrings. As Michelle Pellizzon said in her (appropriately titled) essay: 'Be more confusing, actually'

“If you’re worried you won’t be able to stand out in an AI-powered crowd, you need to become more confusing. (...) Real humans are weird and contradictory. They have random obsessions that don't fit their "brand." They go through phases. (...) They contain multitudes, and those multitudes don't need to have a coherent narrative thread.” - Michelle Pellizzon

In the same way, real human music will stand out by being full of multitudes, emotionally complex, and impossible to pin down. So maybe the further we get from a digestible genred sound, the closer we get to something human. Music that sends you into emotional places, some you recognize, some you discover, but all of them real. And in the end, maybe that’s what matters most: music that makes you feel.

Read more