I should not admit this. Seriously. It is far worse than the confession of Kelly Clarkson as a guilty musical pleasure. It will not come with validation from either Isthmus' Kenneth Burns or Blender magazine. I really should not admit this.

I completely stereotype by name. Positive or negative schemas created by previous situations simply mean I immediately anticipate liking or disliking someone or something from the very first moment it is named. Is it juvenile? Certainly. Is it accurate? Rarely. Do I still catch myself unconsciously partaking in it? Very much so.

Now, now you uber-PC readership, waste no time attempting to convince me you do not have your own stereotyping system. Call it a 'means of classification' if it makes you more comfortable. Regardless, you look at a body donning Uggs and Northface with a tall Starbucks latte in hand, instantly deciding you will not be friends. I hear identification as a Cubs fan and think the same thing. You may judge a book by its cover — I do so by its title.

The problem is not so much whether we can help our rather ingrained, automatic cognitive responses to visual or verbal descriptions. The issue arises when we become so goddamn hell-bent on treating people according to the pigeonholes we put them in. Yes, I injudiciously thought the Cubs fan a pretentious import from 'Chicago.' I came to befriend her as possibly the most altruistic person I have yet met — and actually from within the city limits of Chicago proper.

Why do we give such incredible weight to something as simple as a name? Expectant parents spend weeks, possibly months, deciding what they will call their child. "Gertrude" may come with a whole host of positive associations from a family ancestor. But those parents can foresee a future for little Gertie complete with regular ass-kickings on the playground and opt instead for Emily or Sarah.

As such, I wholeheartedly expected the naming of a band to come with similar anxieties. Oftentimes that title is the first exposure the public has of the band. Listings in club calendars, newspapers' weekly best bets, posters pasted on kiosks and announcements taped inside storefront windows draw crowds for any reason other than the group's musical abilities. If the name does not interest the masses, the musicians might as well join Gertrude as the abused kids on the playground that is the music scene.

Even so, with all the greater concerns of crafting good tunes and penning clever lyrics, practicing locations and booking shows, it is not uncommon for a band to give itself an identity as an afterthought. For Minneapolis' the Melismatics, the name arose out of necessity. "'Melismatic' was a vocab word on a test my freshman year of college in Music Theory 1," frontman Ryan Smith explained. "I was putting the band together for the first gig, and the promoter of the show called me and told me I needed to give him a name that night.

There it was, staring right back at me on the vocab test. I grabbed it because we needed a name immediately … I didn't think about business or marketing at all; it was purely impulsive."

While the intensity of the naming process as I saw it did not hold up in reality with the case of the Melismatics, Smith certainly shared my sentiments. "It's funny how that works. In retrospect, I randomly and rather carelessly picked a word that people associate with what we do for the rest of the band's life. This 'should' be a big decision. It has worked out fine for us, but if I could turn back time, I would find a name that is easier to say and spell. Simplicity is underrated."

(Should 'me