The wait is over.

Indie staples My Morning Jacket will be headlining, alongside electro duo Chromeo, New England’s own Grace Potter and the Nocturnals, legendary rap act Atmosphere and fan favorites The Gay Blades. The initial lineup also includes a few more up-and-comers in rock and hip-hop, with many more local and national acts to soon be announced.

Once again, the festival will last for nine days and span across Downtown Bangor. According to a press release, the final lineup will feature around 40 bands for the weekend music festival and KahBang @ Night performances in local venues. Early-bird tickets go on sale at 10 a.m. April 29 through the festival’s website.

The release also stated that more information on artists and tickets will be made available in the coming weeks. Now in its third year, KahBang is only getting bigger. The complete initial lineup is listed below, according a press release. Visit kahbang.com for more information and to keep updated.

KahBang 2011 Initial Lineup

My Morning Jacket

Chromeo

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals

Atmosphere

Surfer Blood

Atomic Tom

Dom

Evidence

Blueprint

Prof

The Gay Blades

For anyone who knew him, the association was simple — Andy was a musician, a fan and a promoter.

I’ve enjoyed being able to share my thoughts on music in this column for two-and-a-half years. Love what I’m saying or hate it, I’d like to think that if I were gone tomorrow, someone could say the same thing about me.

Perhaps my favorite thing about music is that, in some way or another, everybody lives for it. It’s the soundtrack to our mundane lives, a rallying cry for any given generation, an ever-accessible memory and a safe place to retreat.

Nine times out of 10, the music a person listens to affects the way they dress, think, speak, love and interact with the world. For some, this effect is just more obvious.

But the debate always ends up being over authenticity. Not just, “Is this kind of music more authentic than that kind?” but, “Is this person more authentic than that one because of their music taste?” In my last column, I wrote about how Facebook perpetuates this quandary.

If I’ve grown up or learned anything from writing this column, it’s that, when it comes to personal authenticity, there’s no accounting for taste. If you love the music you do because it means something to you, turn it up loud enough to drown out the dissenters.

Whether you define yourself by metal, rap, indie rock, top 40, country, pop-punk, post-rock, dubstep, orchestral suites, opera, Christian rock, polka, ska, zydeco or any other genre that has ever come into existence, be proud of what you listen to, play or create.

The discussion of “good” music vs. “bad” music is sure to rage on until humans no longer exist. But when you have your headphones on, none of it really means anything.

The only time all of this can get ugly is if we start liking something (or not liking something) for the wrong reasons. Do you dig that new buzzband because the Internet says you should or are you actually picking up what they’re putting down? Do you hate Dave Matthews because it’s cliché to like him or because it’s really not your thing?

I’m constantly lost in a haze of sometimes-warranted-sometimes-unwarranted blog hype, conflicting album reviews, enthusiastic and/or misguided Facebook friends — basically, everybody’s goddamn opinion.

To wade through it, I’ve developed a pretty simple test: I ask myself, “Do I actually want to listen to this?” If the answer is obvious — I either find some sort of value in it or I don’t — then I’m in the clear; I’m not a poseur. If the answer gets muddy, then I’m probably forcing myself to have an attitude.

My end goal is to always be honest with myself. I don’t care what music you listen to, I only ask that you’re honest with yourself as well.

I say continue to search for the music that defines your life: The lyrics you want tattooed on your body, the song you want played at your wedding, the album you’ll play if you get divorced, the artists you want your kids to know about, the artists you want your grandkids to know about.

And even the song you want played at your funeral — because we all live for music.

“She Looks Good in Black,” which opens tonight in the Black Box Theater, is the first student-written, student-acted and student-produced show in recent University of Maine history. It’s the brainchild of Sarah Mann, the play’s author and director, who first got the inspiration for the work about a year ago when she read “Mourning Becomes Electra,” a modern retelling of the Greek myth of Orestes written by Eugene O’Neill.

“The idea of reinventing yourself through someone else’s death was really interesting,” Mann said. “When we were talking about the play ‘Morning Becomes Electra,’ [my teacher] said, ‘It might as well be called “She Looks Good in Black.”’”

After claiming the title for herself, Mann began working on the script.

According to her, the play is about a woman whose closeted gay husband accidentally kills himself during autoerotic asphyxiation. He leaves behind a legacy — a series of erotic animal paintings — and she buys a funeral dress she believes she looks so good in, that she won’t take it off.

Meanwhile, her openly gay brother comes to visit but only makes things worse. She also falls in love with her husband’s gravedigger who has a much different outlook on life than those around her.

It all starts the day of the funeral and follows the lead character as she deals with the absurdity of the situation.

“When the play starts, everybody has changed. It’s really interesting to kind of try to communicate who they were beforehand without ever showing it,” Mann said admitting death has always been an intriguing concept for her primarily because everyone has an opinion on it.

“You have people that are completely terrified of it; you have people that accept that it’s a part of life; you have people that are excited by it,” Mann said. “It was really interesting to write characters that all think about death differently.”

Death, illness and bathroom trips were all private matters in Mann’s British household growing up. Not only was death never discussed, but when someone did pass away, everyone was quick to forget their faults.

The play was finished over the summer, and plans were slowly set in motion to put it on stage this school year. Mann won an on-campus playwriting contest for a different play she wrote, but it was this show she really wanted people to see.

“The other stuff I like and I’m proud of, but this is something that I feel like people would really be able to relate to,” she said.

Mann’s play is being produced by Maine Masque’s sister group SUMMIT. She said the Black Box is an ideal location because of its intimacy — actors can’t fake the emotional intensity of the dialog with their audience so close.

“There’s really no fourth wall,” she said.

Primarily an actress, “Black” is Mann’s first attempt at both directing and at producing her own work, though she had some experience directing smaller scenes and rewrote some of her monologues for the stage during last semester’s “The Boys Next Door.”

Mann allowed the actors to add their own life and dimension to the characters she wrote, making compromises on her ideal vision. At the auditions, Mann said she was looking for a glimpse of the perfect character — a spark leads actors Allison Smith and Ed Benson had when they first read together as the woman and the gravedigger.

In Mann’s eyes, actor Caleb Perry was the closest to her ultimate portrayal of the openly gay brother.

“I assigned them all to bring in a character history, which was interesting because a lot the information that they came up with from the script on their own was stuff I would have never thought of, or contrary to stuff I believed,” Mann said. “So then I started working with those characters that they created, applying it to my word, and those are the performances that you see.”

It’s been necessary for Mann to leave her ego as a playwright behind while directing the show — she’s just now getting excited about the effect her story can potentially have on people. There was an emotional audience at their test performance last week.

“It’s always really odd to think that I could make someone cry with something I wrote,” Mann said. “It’s just as exposing to have people hear my words as it is for me to perform. I’m really excited, but it is very nerve-racking.”

“She Looks Good in Black” opens in the Black Box Theater on Thursday at 7:30 p.m. with performances continuing Friday and Saturday night at the same time as well a matinee at 2 p.m. Saturday. Tickets are free, but donations are accepted to help support SUMMIT.

Portlanders Foam Castles and The Milkman’s Union, along with Bangor / Portland transplants Captain Hollow set their work out on their respective bandcamp pages — all for free or pay what you want — in late March and early April.

Each release probably deserves its own full review, but with the semester coming to a close, here’s a quick rundown of all the excitement, presented in the order it hit the Internet.

Captain Hollow – “Captain Hollow EP”

This EP was a long time coming but well worth the wait — especially if more is on the way as their bandcamp page suggests. Frantic, melodic and full of grit, Captain Hollow follow in the tradition of ’90s, pre-Hot-Topic-commoditized emo. There’s enough post-rock edge to keep things interesting.

Crunchy, trebley guitars use mostly staccato attacks to make themselves heard, but the aggressive drumming is the glue that holds everything together. Ryan Higgins’ vocals are fuzzy and expressive with distant screams occasionally filling out the sound. The bass is distorted and EQed enough to avoid sounding like a bass at all.

The cohesion of each quirky part comes together to form something much greater than the sum of its parts. It’s not hard to hear the influence of Anthony Bitetti of Good Kids Sprouting Horns, who recorded the EP and fleshed out some of the parts, but the high energy alone is enough to set Captain Hollow apart from the crowd.

Foam Castles – “Come Over to My Houses”

Opener “Horticulture Friends” has to be about smoking that magic herb, otherwise the rest of the EP doesn’t make much sense. The two-and-a-half-minute opener turns up the funk and provides a happy-go-lucky intro to the following three tracks which are more spacey, but just as slinky.

Soon after, a cutesy choir sings, “The music of your choice,” as the arpeggiated bassline, distorted drums and synths create bubbling indie-electro chili. Then we’re “Walking Through the Desert,” where rhythmic loops are as abundant as sand dunes and the footprints of MGMT have yet to be swept away by the wind.

A voice repeats. “I think that you’re a mirage” but here, as on the whole EP, vocals never dominate the song — they are just one piece in an intricate, sonic puzzle. No matter how many times you listen through, you notice new noises or lines you missed the first time.
By the time the starkly rhythmless “Hero Island Short” closes this collection, your brain has been thoroughly fried — until you start it over and it’s back to smiles and dance moves.

The Milkman’s Union – “Telos EP”

Ladies beware: Once you hear Henry Jamison’s voice you’re going to want him in your bedroom serenading you to sleep every single night.

The stripped-down acoustic material on this release of The Milkman’s Union is a showcase of songwriting beauty. The folk guitar and vocal melodies intertwine in the most delicate ways — from Jamison’s bottomless growl on “Sailor Boy” to his wispy romantic musings on “Lover’s Tree.”

But as aesthetically pleasing as the slow dance between Jamison and his guitar is, it’s his lyrics that really make you teary. “These days are clementines / sticky fruit with easy rinds / some of them are going bad / but most of them are fine,” he sings on “Somnambulists (Remind Me),” perfectly capturing the entire human experience in a singular fruit.

The whole EP is poetry in motion — the next-best thing to having Jamison as your personal troubadour.

For an added bonus, check out their just-released collaboration with Aly Spaltro a.k.a. Lady Lamb the Beekeeper — a gorgeous country-fried ballad called “Texas Hold Me.”

On Saturday, independently-owned record stores across the globe will be selling hundreds of exclusive finds from bands running the gamut from indie rock to metal to pop to country. A lot of it is rare, unreleased, re-issued or Record-Store-Day-only vinyl, from 7-inches to LPs to box sets.

Brown showcased some of the merchandise, in a 14-minute YouTube video. From pristine packaging to picture discs, no matter what you’re into, what they’ve got will knock the hell out of staring at iTunes album artwork.

It’s not just about the physical music, either. At the Bangor Bull Moose, Portland indie rockers The Lucid will play a set at 2 p.m. with other performances taking place across the state.

Also, don’t forget that one of the special RSD-only releases is The Decemberists’ “Live at Bull Moose” EP, which they recorded during their performance in the Scarborough store.

Other exclusives include works by: Nirvana, Daft Punk, Television, The Flaming Lips, Dio, Death Cab For Cutie, Lady Gaga, Mastodon, Phish, The Grateful Dead, Queen, The White Stripes and many, many more.

The hundreds of friends you’ve acquired flash before you as you cross-check the reactions they might have: “Will my aunt think this is crude?” “Will my high school friends think I’ve changed?” “Does liking this make me a poseur?”

I brought up this phenomenon in my last column, but it deserves its own few hundred words. I’ve spoken before on the ways in which we define ourselves through the music we listen to, but never is that process more blatantly obvious than in the wonderful world of Facebook.

People share more than just music, but a large portion of our news feeds are inevitably clogged up by people broadcasting their taste. Between YouTube videos of songs, music news, Bandcamp pages and lyrics, we are subjected to constant influx of the music our friends enjoy.

Next to every post, we conveniently get the person’s name and picture identifying Tim from work last summer with a new song by Atmosphere, Julie from physics with a Skrillex remix and Josh from high school with an old Tom Waits track.

We judge these people on their taste as we scroll along, so we know they are going to return the favor when we share our own musical discoveries or songs we can’t get out of our heads.

The self-consciousness, the end result of this whole procedure, hardly fosters a generation of confident youngsters. We can’t post something without it defining us, and so we limit what we share and what we like — at least publicly.

I’m more apt to tell my friends about an artist I think they might enjoy when I see them face-to-face just so I don’t have to subject myself to the scrutiny of a wall post. Regardless of if I’m afraid of being castigated as a Pitchfork-fellating herd-follower or a tasteless navigator of the mainstream, I’m always going to think twice before I click “share.”

Facebook forces us to miss out on the social aspects that make music discovery fun. The idea behind posting something should be to spread the word about a musician you can’t get enough of — whether they’re up-and-coming or dead-and-gone.

There’s always those few brash friends who will post anything no matter how eclectic their taste, and they’re the ones who end up turning you on to some great stuff.

What happens is that the music becomes a badge of cool. Tim is trying to distance himself from mainstream rap, Julie is trying to jump on the dubstep bandwagon with her friends and Josh is trying to assert some sort of musical elitism.

I dream of a world where music comes judgment-free, but I’m aware that I am part of the problem. My time offering thoughts in this column is almost over, and throughout it all I’ve learned that people take their music seriously because it is who they are.

I’m myself because of the music I’ve fallen in love with and the music I’ve turned my nose up at. However, there’s a certain part of me that wishes it weren’t this way.

I wish I could delve into the back catalog of an artist everybody already knows about without feeling like a tool. I wish I could still enjoy some music the same way I did in high school without being embarrassed. I wish I could post whatever I want to Facebook without feeling like 554 disapproving sets of eyes were judging me on it.

Now the real question: Do I post a link to this article?

The real star of every show is the audience members — their youthful faces and brightly colored, barely covered bodies basking in the glow of the stage lights.

It was one of those nights when you realize that everybody owns a pair of cheap sunglasses and a lime green tank top. In a flash, the floor is illuminated and everyone has become a drunken caricature of their former selves. No matter the drug of choice — uppers, downers or even the music itself — the crowd in the Field House Thursday night was flying high.

“It was by the most fun concert that I’ve put on at UMaine,” said Joseph Nabozny, the vice president for student entertainment. “I had a blast.”

Though he admitted to wanting more time to promote it, Nabozny was pleased with the nearly 2,000 attendees. He said only 300 to 400 tickets were sold to the public making for a concert dominated by University of Maine students.

“I talked to Dean [Robert] Dana and he was saying it was too bad that more kids didn’t know who Girl Talk was because it’s hard to imagine a kid in college being at that concert and not having a good time,” he said.

The calm before the storm came thanks to Chairlift. As a last minute fill-in for pop-chart rapper Travie McCoy, they were hardly what anyone was expecting. The five musicians who took that stage seemed to care less about becoming billionaires and more about making music that mattered.

“With Travie dropping out a week before the show, I’m not going to lie or sugarcoat, we were basically looking for whatever we could get,” Nabozny said.

There was discussion between Student Entertainment and their talent agents of getting members of Wu-Tang Clan to perform, but Nabozny said that he wasn’t interested in taking the concert in that direction, especially with Inspectah Deck heading to Curva Ultra Lounge this weekend.

Chairlift’s slender and mysteriously sexy frontwoman Caroline Polachek had no trouble stepping into Nico’s shoes, her echoey voice guiding the audience through each cerebral electro ballad.

The down-tempo synth- and bass-heavy songs were, for some, a wet blanket. But what the crowd was receiving was a rare gift — barring first witness to this band’s new material.

For the audience — whose previous exposure was likely in 30-second doses thanks to Apple’s marketing team — it was all foreign territory. Nevertheless, it was a world that deserves to be retreated back into — just in a different setting.

And to perform so boldly in the midst of the chants for the main attraction takes brass balls.

“I felt bad — chanting the headliner’s name while the opener’s still, on in my opinion, is kind of disrespectful,” Nabozny said. “But I understand that a lot of people were there to see Girl Talk. We went from a pretty well-known opener to a not very well-known one.”

Sure enough, the crowd was still buzzin’ in their neon garb by the time Girl Talk took the stage. Anyone with an Internet connection knew how it was going to start, but hearing Ozzy and Luda in perfect duet felt just as fresh as the first time.

To keep the die-hard fans guessing he changed up his style quick. Before anyone had even broken a sweat in the frigid venue, he had Biggie Smalls rapping over that ever-recognizable piano line from Kanye West’s “Runaway.”

That’s how the night went on: classic combinations sandwiched between familiar verses and new beats, while choruses hand-picked from early albums were thrown together with pop’s latest achievements.

“I think he’s obviously very good at what he does,” Nabozny said. “I think it’s neat that they recognize that he is a DJ. It was a pretty neat combination of good music and special effects.”

Reappropriating the best musical moments from the last half a century is a feat in itself — but timing the blinding white lights with Johnny Greenwood’s thunderous pick scrapes before Thom Yorke jumps in Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s grave for a rousing sing-along is pure magic.

And the crowd soaked it all in.

Those who managed to get a spot on stage lost their minds and let go of their bodies in front of a sea of their peers. It was easy to lose Gillis on the stage full of party hardy students or in the confetti haze.

“Anyone who’s familiar with Girl Talk is aware of the fact you’re basically paying to go to a party, but it’s like, where in Orono — where in Maine for that matter — are you going to find a $1,500 light show and a sound system like that?” Nabozny said. “If there was a club in the area that had a DJ like that and a light show like that I’d pay 20 bucks to get in all the time.”

After Girl Talk took us back to his Pittsburgh home courtesy of The Rolling Stones and Wiz Khalifa, the curtain closed on act one. With the crowd’s roar of approval, the now shirtless Gillis cued up his encore.

Of course, the ultimate pop music experience had to close with a literal chorus of pops as the balloons that had been hanging ominously from the Field House ceiling finally descended on the masses.

But wait, there’s more. Leaping back into the opening grunts from his early work “Night Ripper,” Girl Talk gave the crowd one final jolt before depleting what was left of anyone’s hearing with a polyphonic sonic soup.

The next move for Student Entertainment is unclear now, but Nabozny said some money has been rolled over for next year. For his last semester in the position, he said he wanted to “go out with a bang.”

Turn the car radio to your favorite classic rock station and you know what you’re going to get: Eddie Van Halen solos, Journey sing-alongs and that Tom Petty tune you’ve heard a million times and still love.

The charm and appeal of this music is in its excess and familiarity.

The problem with trying to use the same formula to make new music is that the majority of classic rock isn’t very good. Even if they’re dipping into their archives or going “A to Z,” the music on classic rock radio stations has been hand-picked from 30-plus years of musical history, with only the most immediately recognizable tracks making the cut — hence “classics.” The rest falls by the wayside.

The Nebs easily beat out a cover band at the rock-‘n’-roll-the-way-it-should-be thing,  but they’re falling into the traps that make classic rock cheesy without retaining any of the elements that make it fun. Matt Grassi’s voice is soulful — his heartbreak is clear even if his metaphors aren’t — but it’s hard to care when the music is disinteresting.

On their EP “After All,” the four mid-tempo songs blend into one another. It seems to be over before it started with few musical moments to nudge the listener awake. The heaviest-hitting part comes at the very beginning on the standout opener “After All, What’s In A Reflection?” as the jangly stereo Stratocasters turn into fuzzed-out noise machines and Cam Jones enters with a steady drum beat.

As Grassi wails, “They say that love is a lost and dying art / Well, love to me is a blindfold in the dark” just before some sort of modal guitar screeches, it’s clear the band has a penchant for unbridled emotion — the same kind that makes for great classic rock songs.

But after a solid first track, it jumps off into forgettable ’90s alt-rock. “You Know What You Wanted” is a soul-fueled ballad which tries to rekindle the opener’s energy with the same distorted guitar. In “Watercolors,” the acoustic guitars swirl but the message of lost love is enveloped by boredom.

It’s also nearly impossible to make out Dominic Grosso’s bass part in any of the tracks. When he does go higher up on the neck in closer “6’s & 7’s,” he provides some great counter melodies, filling out the band’s sound.

The production is puzzling in itself — slick and clean but full of characteristic flubs. It’s as if they’re capturing a lo-fi attitude but with a hi-fi aesthetic. Still, little things — like when Grassi’s voice disappears into a reverby oblivion on “6’s & 7’s”  — add life to the otherwise straight-ahead production.

The vocal delivery, crunchy guitar and classic rock vibes all bring to mind Portland legends As Fast As, and it’s perfectly plausible The Nebs have a bright future around the scene. There are some catchy melodies and some worthwhile songwriting interspersed throughout “After All.”

However, success will only come if they can leave the tired classic rock cliches on the airwaves and out of their material.

The real star of every show is the audience — their youthful faces and brightly colored, barely covered, bodies basking in the glow of the stage lights.

It was one of those nights when you realize that everybody owns a pair of cheap sunglasses and a lime green tank top. In a flash, the floor is illuminated and everyone has become a drunken caricature of their former selves. No matter the drug of choice — uppers, downers or even the music itself — the crowd in the Field House Thursday night was flying high.

The calm before the storm came thanks to Chairlift. As a last minute fill-in for pop-chart rapper Travie McCoy, they were hardly what anyone was expecting. Luckily, the five musicians who took that stage seemed to care less about becoming billionaires and more about making music that mattered.

Their slender and mysteriously sexy frontwoman Caroline Polachek had no trouble stepping into Nico’s shoes, her echoey voice guiding the audience through each cerebral electro ballad.

The down-tempo synth- and bass-heavy songs were, for some, a wet blanket. But what the crowd was receiving was a rare gift — barring first witness to this band’s new material.

For the audience — whose previous exposure was likely in 30-second doses thanks to Apple’s marketing team — it was all foreign territory. Nevertheless, it was a world that deserves to be retreated back into, just in a different setting. And to perform so boldly in the midst of the chants for the main attraction takes brass balls.

Soon enough the time had come for Girl Talk, and sure enough, the crowd was still buzzin’ in their neon garb. Anyone with an Internet connection knew how it was going to start, but hearing Ozzy and Luda in perfect duet felt just as fresh as the first time.

To keep the diehard fans guessing he changed up his style quick. Before anyone had even broken a sweat in the frigid venue, he had Biggie Smalls rapping over that ever-recognizable piano line from Kanye West’s “Runaway.”

That’s how the night went on: Classic combinations sandwiched between familiar verses and new beats, while choruses hand-picked from early albums were thrown together with pop’s latest achievements.

Re-appropriating the best musical moments from the last half a century is a feat in itself — but timing the blinding white lights with Johnny Greenwood’s thunderous pick scrapes before Thom Yorke jumps in Ol’ Dirty Bastard’s grave for a rousing sing along is pure magic.

And the crowd soaked it all in.

Those who managed to get a spot on stage lost their minds and let go of their bodies in front of a sea of their peers. It was easy to lose Gillis on the  stage full party hardy students or in the confetti haze.

After Girl Talk took us back to his Pittsburgh home courtesy of The Rolling Stones and Wiz Khalifa, the curtain closed on act one. With the crowd’s roar of approval, the now shirtless Gillis cued up his encore.

Of course, the ultimate pop music experience had to close with a literal chorus of pops as the balloons that had been hanging ominously from the Field House ceiling finally descended on the masses.

But wait, there’s more. Leaping back into the opening grunts from his early work “Night Ripper,” Girl Talk gave the crowd one final jolt before depleting what was left of anyone’s hearing with a polyphonic sonic soup.

It was only as the lights turned back on that everyone started coming down, each person looking around to see their own dazed expression reflected on the faces of those surrounding them.

This wasn’t just another Thursday night — this was the night Girl Talk came to Orono.

But I feel like the 2010s haven’t started yet. By now, we are almost a year-and-a-half into the second decade of the new millennium, but musically, what do we have to show for it? At best, the 2010s just feel like an extension of what worked best in the 2000s.

Of course, we’ve seen the crossover of some subgenres into the mainstream and emergence of others. Dubstep seems to have officially left the underground, lo-fi has penetrated everything from surf rock to R&B and chillwave came and left in just a few months.

But 2010 hasn’t had its “Kid A” moment yet; hasn’t had its “The Blueprint” moment yet; hasn’t had The Strokes or The White Stripes yet. There’s hardly been an artist or album that’s been truly game-changing.

“What about Kanye’s “My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy’?” you might be asking. “Everyone went crazy!”

I can’t disagree with that logic. His album was perhaps the most momentous occasion in popular music so far this decade, but what did it accomplish? Four months later and Kanye is rapping on a Katy Perry track — which is still awesome, but in a different way. “Dark Fantasy” was a brilliant album, but it was an amalgamation of everything Kanye had worked on and established since “The College Dropout” in 2004. Even its grandiosity was nothing new.

“Kid A” rang in the new decade with its techno-dystopian paranoia — not only was it uncharted territory for Radiohead, but for most everyone else in 2000 as well. Jay-Z’s “The Blueprint” was a rap album for the new decade because it left behind the grit of the ’90s for the excess of the 2000s — not to mention it was released on Sept. 11, 2001. And when The White Stripes and The Strokes brought rock ‘n’ roll back amidst Korn and Limp Bizkit, it was as fresh and energizing as it was in the ’60s and ’70s.

Now The Stripes are kaput and The Strokes’ last record has a lot of people wishing they had followed suit. Radiohead are still weird, but they aren’t making as big a deal of it. Hova’s never been the same since “The Black Album” and the rapper / C.E.O. / God-on-Earth image is played out.

And that’s just the fate of a handful of those who defined the 2000s. The outcomes of others vary from Best Album Grammys (Arcade Fire) to re-emergence in the pop charts (Eminem) to retirement parties (LCD Soundsystem).

So, who is next? Who will define the 2010s? The pessimistic answer is that no one will.

For at least the beginning half of the 2000s, people bought CDs. Even if just in a bedroom or car, music was a social experience. Now you strap on your headphones and the world be damned. It’s still social — what songs are you posting YouTube videos of to Facebook and what do they say about you? — but not in an overwhelming sense.

When the closest thing the world has to a universal music experience is Rebecca Black’s “Friday” or “The Bed Intruder Song,” something is very wrong. So far, that’s the music that has defined the 2010s.

At the end of the year, it would probably be more relevant to count down the top Internet meme music rather than the best singles or albums.