But, at the same time, it's a fair question, one that can help define a person. Klosterman proposes that it's better to ask, "What kind of music do you think you like?" It allows for a more honest, exact answer. His answer: "Music that sounds like the opening fourteen seconds of Humble Pie's 'I Don't Need No Doctor,' as performed live on their 1971 album Performance: Rockin' the Fillmore." But he comes to this answer, like all of us would, in a "know-it-when-I-see-it" fashion. So, he wonders why Humble Pie?

Does my relationship to this piece of music have something to do with my own specific life experience? Is it because of the random anatomical construction of my inner ear? Even if I'm having a purely visceral reaction -- in other words, if the only real reason I love those fourteen seconds is because "they rock" (or whatever) -- there still must be something about the musical introduction to "I Don't Need No Doctor" that triggers the (normally dormant) part of my brain that longs to be rocked. It's sort of the ultimate question about being alive: What makes us love things? Is it possible to know? What I am searching for, I suppose, is a unified field theory that defines what I like about sound.

For all y'all enjoyment, a song y'all can step wit'

As Klosterman footnotes, cognitive neuroscientist Daniel J. Levitin penned a book (and corresponding site) This Is Your Brain On Music. I recently posted this clip of him summarizing his exploration into music and it's relationship with the mind. His website hosts a paper he wrote with two colleagues entitled Life Soundtracks: The uses of music in everyday life. The findings:

People who can have music follow them around during their daily lives can use these properties of music effectively – to form a soundtrack for their day and their lives, one that effectively provides comfort, arousal, and both mental and physical fitness.

It's an obsession. A healthy obsession. It's my drug of choice. If you were stranded on a desert island, what would you bring? My iPod. And a leatherman, if I had a second choice. But music is essential as far as I'm concerned.

Wait, they don't love you like I love you

Mike McCready, of the company Platinum Blue (not the band Pearl Jam), is making the process of defining our musical tendencies easier. He sits down in a New Yorker interview with Malcolm Gladwell to explain the company's mission. They can analyze whether or not a song is a hit. They can predict singles from an album. They can tell you what music you would like. And I assume that they will, at some point, guide music production in certain directions. They have graphed the known music universe and can say "You are here." So this technology, if we wanted it to, could replace Klosterman's dialogue. We could just point to a dot on a screen and say, "That's me. I'm that dot." But why submit to this digitalization of an organic and ever-changing paradigm: personal musical favoritism. I would prefer to use the Klosterman method of exploration and, if it were feasible, to have Platinum Blue check my answers.

It's where everyone has been and where everybody goes

I have below, in the style of Klosterman, listed my musically-definitive, never-complete parts and pieces. These are the tidbits that create my own patchwork musical quilt. I've included the clips in .aiff format [.wav files for those who prefer them]. This is me and I'm always on shuffle. Please feel free to leave a comment about "You, On Shuffle." It's an addiction we can all be be proud of. So without further ado, my answer is: Music that sounds like the background of the bass solo in 'Barbara Ann' (0:22) [wav] by the Beach Boys. There isn't a soul in the room not having a blast. That's my answer. And this is everything else:

The hand clapping on the Gorillaz 'Punk' (0:26) [wav].

The ebb and flow of the drums on 'Evening Sun' (0:23) [wav] from The Strokes.

The opening barrage of 'Immigrant Song' (0:12) [wav] by Led Zeppelin, especially when driving.

Jack and Meg's bark and haggle on The White Stripes' 'Rag & Bone' (0:43) [wav].

Everything after Jimi says, "Fly on Little Wing" (0:45) [wav].

A very raw E Street Band pounding out 'It's Hard to Be a Saint in The City' (0:22) [wav] and Bruce just trying to keep up, this from the Hammersmith Odeon, London 1975.

The rallying backup vocals on (Antichrist Television Blues) (0:32) [wav] by The Arcade Fire.

The sirens-and-all, entire beginning of Billy Joel's 'Miami 2017 (Seen the Lights Go Out on Broadway)' (1:34) [wav] preferably live.

The informal run-up to 'Live at PJ's' (0:34) [wav] from the Beastie Boys.

Ben Harper's vocal styling on 'Ground on Down' (1:07) [wav].

The string interaction on Sufjan Steven's 'Jacksonvile' (0:33) [wav] especially the banjo.

The brass orgasm of Sublime's 'Doin' Time' (0:28) [wav].

The ridiculous scat-out of 'Feeling Good' (0:31) [wav] by Nina Simone, made famous everywhere lately but no less powerful.

The tone and flow of Isaac Brock on Modest Mouse's 'March Into The Sea' (0:42) [wav].

The bass breakdown on Paul Simon's 'You Can Call Me Al' (0:12) [wav].

The outrageous take on 'You Are My Sunshine' in Bright Eye's 'Calender Hung Itself' (0:30) [wav].

The entrance and exit of Nels Cline's guitar, filling every spare space on Wilco's 'Handshake Drugs' (1:32) [wav], live being the preference.

The Flea's funky bassline on the Red Hot Chili Peppers' 'Suck My Kiss' (0:30) [wav].

Bob Dylan's hullabaloo of an ending to 'Highway 61 Revisited' (1:08) [wav].