Nobody stays enlightened for long. There comes a point when even the groundbreakers, the trailblazers, the rabble-rousers, the outside-the-boxers, the fetishists of the new and the fucked and the weird just fail to get something, or out and out despise it.
"That's not writing, that's typing," said Truman Capote of On The Road when it first came out, and Jack Kerouac had just replaced him as the enfant terrible of American literature. "Hip-hop isn't music," declared Lemmy, sounding more like a country vicar than the man behind some of the most abrasive music and human behaviour of the late 20th century. Wim Wenders, the godfather of the German New Wave, campaigned vigorously against Do The Right Thing winning the Palme d'Or, for some reason. The Ramones hated disco. Eric B & Rakim despised the Coldcut mix of "Paid In Full". In fact, people who used to be considered cool misjudging the merits of the new, either through ignorance or bitterness, seems an inevitable part of the cultural cycle.
In music, almost every new sound or scene has to go through the same cliches of, "It's just noise", "It's got no soul", "It sounds like it was made by an eight-year-old" before the people who are slagging it off realise that they're just wrong and out of touch. It happened with grime, it happened with dubstep – and now, it's happening with London's PC Music.