Driving Beat
There were a few secret passions that Stan harbored. Certain books and movie genres, even some food products - all which only one person knew about him. And he was comfortable with that. He didn't mind if Kyle knew how much he liked indie films or soy products, though he'd probably have conniptions if someone like Cartman ever found out. The last thing he needed was the fatass trying to off him for being a closeted hippie.
Even so, there was one thing that Stan tried to avoid discussing, and that was his musical preferences. It wasn't so much about what he did like to listen to, as that covered a wide range. Classical, jazz, blues, even Broadway showtunes, it was all okay by him. He could even stand a little country and pop every now and then. But what he really enjoyed was rock. Any rock. Classic, techno, punk, hard or soft, gothic, indie, Britpop, they all worked for him, though he tended to lean towards metal and progressive, with a good bit of alternative and post-grunge.
No, the problem was definitely not the types of music he liked. It was the kind he didn't like that kept him reserved on the subject. The kind that Kyle happened to like.
Oh sure, they had plenty of overlap in tastes. After all, Kyle had a definite soft spot for post-punk and gothic rock, if his adoration of The Cure was any indication. But his predominantly favored genres drove Stan absolutely crazy. Well, in all honesty it was mostly the hip-hop and rap that irritated him; the R&B was sometimes tolerable.
Stan wasn't quite sure why hip-hop bothered him so much. He figured that part of the reason was that his classmates expected him to like that sort of music, because all the stars on his high school's sports teams supposedly listened to that sort of thing. All but him, apparently.
But Kyle, he loved the stuff for some inexplicable reason. Between classes, the iPod earbuds perpetually attached to his head were always blasting out some heavy bass beat to some unheard rapped lyrics. When they drove anywhere in Kyle's car, half the town probably shook on account of his stereo system's subwoofers, or so Stan figured from how much the noise made his brain throb against his skull. He'd tried to flip the dials before in an attempt to escape the hellish sounds that passed for music, but Kyle only smacked his hand away and grinned, then quipped something he'd probably heard on TV about the driver picking the music and shotgun shutting his cakehole.
When Stan finally figured out what it was about hip-hop that drove him nuts, he could have smacked himself in the head. It had percussion, lots of percussion, and the occasional synthesizer, but that was generally the sum of instrumentation.
The fun thing about the music that Stan liked was the interaction of different instruments and vocals to produce something bigger and better than the individual parts. Hip-hop was all about one driving, overwhelming beat.
And later, as Stan watched Kyle dancing around his room to that single beat with that goofball grin of his, he realized that the thing he disliked was the same thing which Kyle liked so much about it. It was the only thing he could dance to.
So Stan decided to create his own idea of fun with that driving beat; grinding bodies could be instruments, and voices rising and falling and straining for breath could be vocals enough. And that interaction could definitely result in something more enjoyable than the sum of parts, with that thumping bass keeping beat in the background all the while.