I have two loves, both of which are used to celebrate good days, get me through the rough ones and are pretty regular components of my life. These loves — a good cup of coffee and great music — oftentimes knit and weave together, providing inspiration for many a column or musical discussion. It is a recent trip to Starbucks (admittedly, my third java trip of the day) that led me to contemplate the following:

While waiting for the barista to prepare my cup of caffeine, I perused the small table positioned by the counter; the one that holds newly released albums of both unknown and well-known artists. These musical offerings are the ones deemed by the coffee corporation "music worthy of checking out." This is music that, more often than not, is playing in the hundreds, maybe thousands, of Starbucks coffee shops across America. On that particular day, Antigone Rising's debut, From the Ground Up, was featured alongside the soundtrack to Martin Scorsese's Bob Dylan documentary "No Direction Home." Sufjan Stevens's song "The Dress Looks Nice on You" was playing over the store's sound system. Seeing and hearing this hodgepodge mixture of music, mostly unknown and some of it considered "indie" left me wondering if I liked that such a corporate company was "outing" relatively underground artists and serving them up to the masses. This led me to think about a bigger question — "Which came first, the music or the publicity?"

This age-old question, based off a query usually pertaining to eggs and poultry, spawned a long inward wrestle with the advertising and talent sects of the music world. To better explain, let me go back to the Merle Haggard/Bob Dylan concert that took place in Milwaukee last spring. While Dylan and Haggard were undoubtedly the focal points of the evening, I, along with an Eagles Ballroom full of audience members, was blown away by a school teacher turned solo performer from Philadelphia who served as the night's opening act. Amos Lee, a soulful, contemplative singer-songwriter took the stage, preceding two absolute musical legends, and blew everyone away. This virtual unknown enraptured the audience, prompting me to go out first thing the next morning to buy Lee's self-titled debut album.

Now, I was pretty pleased with myself. Happy to have found an album unknown to the rest of my social circle, I felt special. I liked that I knew an artist before almost everyone else, and was pleased to play my favorite Amos Lee songs for friends, family and anyone else who would listen. Then, of course, I embarked on my daily trip to the local Starbucks and there it was — Amos Lee's album, sitting prettily on the coffee shop's new music table. As stupid as it might be, I was a little disappointed. I could no longer spread the music of Amos Lee myself. The question surfaced: Is it good to have mainstream culture and locations do the work of uncovering bands and musicians?

HearMusic, the music service offered by Starbucks, is described on the company's website as "the voice of music at Starbucks … [it] has one purpose: to help people discover their new favorite music." I think, though, there's something about the feeling one gets when finding on their own a musical group unknown to seemingly everyone else. Some of my favorite musicians, The Comas, Treble Charger, Stars, Bleu and of course, Amos Lee, were found by accident. There's no doubt that it's nice to know all the words to the obscure songs playing in Urban Outfitters and it's fun to be the one all your friends go to when they ask, "Who's this playing?" And then there's not much better than discovering some unknown at a local concert. Last semester, I was introduced to the great music of Jupiter Sunrise when the band played a small show at the late Luther's Blues. I was one of about 30 in the audience and got to rub elbows with members of the band. Finding bands in the early stages of recognition, groups without a lot of publicity, is awesome because you are often one of a small group of fans, meaning band members are more likely to show their appreciation, and you are more likely to get a deep look at the inner-workings of the music.

The aforementioned facts are nice, but what happens when that said band or musician "makes it big?" The current trend of indie groups popping up everywhere from American Eagle Outfitters to primetime TV has brought countless groups to the light of mainstream. Groups like Snow Patrol, matt pond PA and The Dandy Warhols have gained increasing attention thanks to use by TV stations and other various "hip" media outlets. Previously unknown musicians like Michael Buble, Sufjan Stevens and Viva Voce are growing in levels of fame and recognition thanks to companies like Starbucks and Apple. This triggers, at least for me, mixed emotions. On one hand, you're happy that music you support and believe in is getting the attention it deserves, but on the other, you can't help but want to proclaim "I heard them first!" every time their songs are on the radio. It's a lot like buying a shirt only to have your friend buy a similar one — are you upset she copied or flattered that she likes your style?

Do you celebrate the group's musical success when they are featured on the latest "Grey's Anatomy" episode? Or, do you sigh sadly when you find Amos Lee's album on the Starbuck's music table while waiting for your Pumpkin Spice latte? It's a fine line to be walked, but the conclusion I've come to, after a lot of thought and even more lattes, is that it doesn't matter how a band is heard as long as its music reaches others. Because really, the whole point of music is to share great sounds with others. So be happy when your favorite underground group goes mainstream. There will always be another band to discover.

Laura Stanelle is a sophomore planning on majoring in Journalism. She's beyond excited about seeing Amos Lee play in Milwaukee at the end of the month and hopes someone great will open for him and introduce her to a whole new "underground obsession." She can be reached for question or comment — or to tell about your favorite unknown — at lstanelle@badgerherald.com.