It's in our DNA. Bob and I and every other person on the planet who take our music listening seriously tend to be insular snobs. We like what we like, we know what we don't like. And we bristle in anger and fear, putting our brains and hearts into lockdown, when those not in our cult invade our nests to push some mainstream pop propoganda. If a gazillion indiscriminating lowbrows are laying down cash on the newest Next Big Thing, we know it as we breathe: It's a pile of shite.
And then, one day, some of the luckier among us discover that the unwashed masses sometimes know what the hell they are talking about.