When I was growing up, my siblings and I had this competitive rule — if one of us bought an album by a particular artist, that person had dibs on the rest of that artist’s catalog.
That meant my oldest sister had a lock on Andy Gibb, my brother put dibs on Sting and Madonna, my other sister had first crack on stuff I don’t even remember, and I was left to my own devices with Duran Duran and Eurythmics.
By the time we entered college, that exclusivity rule started to loosen up. Our individual tastes solidified to the point where our tastes would rarely even interact. There were, however, a few instances of exchange.
My sister took to Smashing Pumpkins’ Siamese Dream, whereas I thought (and still think) the album sucks. My brother absolutely took to Sinéad O’Connor’s I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got, whereas I thought it wasn’t as good as The Lion and the Cobra.
On a recent nostalgia binge at the music store, I bought a bunch of CDs I previously owned in other formats. Some of those titles are artifacts from that long-ago lockout. In other words, albums I probably wouldn’t have listened to because my siblings were "into them".