“Are you on something, man?” My roommate asked me yesterday. “You’ve been listening to some really weird music for almost seven hours now.”

I was in a dubstep coma. The day had run away from me.

For seven hours I had been transported by dubstep to a prehistoric dinosaur world where all the dinosaurs are equipped with laser helmets.

Waiting for the drop, bobbing my head to the wobble bass and trying to discover where each of the obscure samples had been pulled from had made me neglect my homework and left me feeling a strange combination of satisfaction and confusion.

What was this bizarre music?

And why did I love it so much?

The people who listen to heart are usually not the types you’re going to meet at your local Starbucks sipping on Caramel Machiattos and talking about Charlotte Bronte.

In the world of dubstep the sleazier, grimier and filthier the music is, the better. Sludge is eloquence.

Like the work of Bukowski, dubstep finds its beauty simply by defying what we think is beautiful.

Admittedly, the first time I heard dubstep I cringed. The heavy, whirring bass put against samples ranging from George Michael to the Super Mario Brothers theme left me feeling uncomfortable.

This music was caustic. Only after listening to hours of artists like Cookie Monsta, Chrispy and Rusko did I discover that this discomfort was designed.

It kept the casual listener away. And it bred a tribe of discerning fans that rejected the mainstream.

I guess I love this music because it’s so easy to hate and because being a loyal listener takes work.

It’s dirty and cult-like. I hated my first cup of coffee; I had to force myself to finish it. Now I’m addicted.

For me, dubstep’s kind of like that.

Check out Cope’s top dubstep picks, and add some of your own favorites, here.