Hip hypocrisy gives way to stupidity

The last of the cool kids?

I came across this article by Vex News, correctly titled OUTRAGE: MIA about the hypocrisy of the left to try and boycott “oppressive” (in their words) Israel when they could be doing much more by taking aim at the oppressive world of fundamentalist Islam in the Middle East. What really grabbed my attention (and guffaw) was the description of BDS supporters and protestors of Max Brenner stores as:

be-scarved local private-school brats, Hamas-niks and anti-Semites raging against the chocolate machine.

Bravo, VEX! It’s always struck me as hypocritical that those who denounce Israel with anti-Semitism and stand up proudly for the torturous and actually oppressive Islam “be-scarf” themselves with the keffiyeh. Do they not notice the irony of wearing a keffiyeh when it’s the fashion accessory of choice for oppressors?

I’m sick of these bloody hipsters running around and wearing and doing stuff without a thought for it’s origins or the deeper meaning. And hipsters are now everywhere. Remember when cool kids used to be, actually, cool? A quick Google of “keffiyeh and hipsters” took me to this blog called (and the jury’s still out on this) Taking Life Seriously, and a post titled: The Keffiyeh: Modern Symbol of Hipster Ignorance. Oh, how my heart swelled when I read that title alone – a kindred spirit?

From the post, describing hipsters:

Their THC-drunk smiles relaying a kind of superficiality and ignorance usually reserved for the offspring of Hollywood celebrities.

and:

The keffiyeh began its ascent into Western fashion culture in the early 1980s when it caught on as a symbol of support for Palestinian freedom amongst politically-active non-Arab American students. Wearing the keffiyeh was a potent political statement to make too: The Independent called the keffiyeh “a symbol of Islamic militancy” while Spanish Prime Minister Zapatero was criticized by opposition parties after posing with a keffiyeh and was accused of “anti-Semitism, anti-Zionism and Israelophobia”.

Most beautifully, the author sums up with this gem:

Dumbass hipsters wearing keffiyehs is equivalent to gorilla-brained gangster rappers spouting ineloquent and violent lyrics while wearing giant crucifixes and, better yet, encrusting them with diamonds and rubies.

Although one anonymous commenter wrote:

Even if it is “clueless hipsters’ wearing the keffiyeh’s then at least the discussion of this should lead to conversation on the plight of the Palestinians. If complimented lots of ‘hipsters’ keffiyehs and questioned them on knowledge of palestine. The majority are aware of the symbolism of wearing a Keffiyah and wear it in solidarity. The few that don’t know will generally be interested and then research the situation and the history of palestine themselves. Surely that is a positive thing.

Oh come on! They’re hipsters! They’re never going to willingly learn anything other than what’s new and decrying it by saying they liked it before it was popular. Duh! Though that wasn’t nearly as bad as this other comment:

I’m jewish but I hate Israel because it kills people in the name of jews.

Which is basically saying I love Palestine because it kills people in the name of Islam.

I’ve never heard of a Jew raping, torturing and murdering their five-year old daughter due to doubts over their virginity. Have you?

There’s always been cool kids, and some of them have actually been pretty cool, but these hipsters are only cool to themselves. What’s cool about dressing in the latest high-priced threads that make you look like a kid playing dress-ups? Imitation Wayfarers that look like kids’ sunglasses, trousers that are glorified “babygros” and t-shirts with cartoon characters on them? I was confronted with this cartoon couture in 2009, when I went shopping for clothes in Myer (a half-arsed Marks & Spencer down under) one day  and all that was on offer were t-shirts with Sesame Street, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and the most juvenile manga. I hated it as a kid, so why wear it now?

I first saw hipsters en masse in 2010, going to a gig on a friend’s free ticket at the Brisbane Hipster’s venue of choice, the Hi Fi Bar – home to overpriced poor-quality beer (Carlton Draught, anyone?) and on the bill was the hipsters’ favourite bands: the Hungry Kids of Hungary (rivals to Chilly Kids of Chile or Island Kids of Ireland?) All these hipsters were there, dressed in their best op-shop sourced and Enid Blyton-inspired finest, having forked out $40 per ticket they simply sat around on the floor talking to each other – why not save your (parents’) money and stay home instead? I was trying to take notes on the night in an attempt at a review and all I scribbled was: Sarah Blasko called, she wants her wardrobe back.

Other bizarre things hipsters call “clothes” (much like Vivienne Westwood‘s haute couture) include the trend of guys walking round with “salmon” coloured pants, and it’s not just me who’s noticed this – there’s even a site on Tumblr (the hipster’s own social media) White Boys in Salmon Shorts. Why pay money to look like a walking, talking salmon terrine? If hipsters were actually dedicated followers of fashion, wouldn’t they realise that the general concensus (even the uninspiring Vogue) is pastels went out in the 80’s?

Hipster males are also known for growing beards yet shaving their pubes, as if they’re constantly living Opposite Day. They also wear “plaid” (read: flannelette) shirts not seen since the early 90’s. When I was a litt’lun, anything called “vintage” was usually a vintage car, i.e. made before 1940. Now, these 90s leftovers or anything more than five minutes old are called “vintage”, and we’re poorer for it. Thanks, losers.

And hipster television sucks too – I don’t hate Girls because it is written by an intelligent, educated and switched-on woman, I hate it for pampering to the hipster ideal of having more clothes and money than sense. Why was there all the hype about it being so “white” and not casting anyone of a darker than hipster-pasty hue, but nothing about how they all seem to be still living off their parents? This is best shown in the pilot episode when Hannah (played by creator, writer and producer Lena Dunham) whines over her parents refusal to fund her badly-dressed and going-nowhere life. Think she’s got problems because Mama and Papa won’t give her a few grand whenever she wants? I can’t get $20 out of mine!

The only hipster-related thing I like is the song ‘Pumped Up Kicks’ by Foster the People – in a perfect world, I’d listen to this as I walked down the streets of Fortitude Valley, Fitzroy, Surry Hills, Hoxton and Williamsburg, taking pot-shots at the hip and stupid with a well-loaded rifle. Although next thing you know it will be a “hate crime” to discriminate against young, salmon-wearing fools.

As hipsters love to whine, “FML!”

I want a 90’s revival and I want it now

From the ages of seven to thirteen, I used to get up early Saturday morning after a (hardly hard) week of school to watch rage, specifically the Top 50, which as the name clearly states was a countdown of the top 50 songs in the charts that week. It’s how I’ve memorised the words to so many pop songs of the late nineties and why I love them still, and more importantly as to why I believe good pop music died in 2004, and manufactured-by-svengalis shite and hip-hop rubbish tramped the dirt on good pop’s grave. A silly yet strong belief I know, but bear with me.

The first single I ever bought was Happyland’s “Don’t You Know Who I Am”. Yes, at the age of seven I walked into HMV Erina and spent my pocket-money on unusual selections for a kid to have. I think “Polyester Girl” by Regurgitator came next, followed by the remix EP of Madonna’s “Ray of Light”. I spent so much on singles that I didn’t buy my first album until I was 14, though I’m pleased to say my discriminating tastes kicked in and I bought Massive Attack’s Blue Lines, after my dad played me “Unfinished Sympathy” for the first time (and apparently he used to listen to it a lot when I was a baby, so I’m hoping that 90’s anthem ingrained itself to me then).

My strongest memories of the Top 50 though were around 1997-2000, and I’d be up at the crack of dawn with Aqua (Aquarium was the first album I ever had), Kylie Minogue’s “Did It Again”, silverchair’s “Freak” and “Anthem for the Year 2000”, Natalie Imbruglia’s “Torn” and “Big Mistake”, Redzone and Joanne both doing covers of “Jackie” at the same time, Sash!’s “Stay”, S.O.A.P.’s “This Is How We Party”, Spice Girls “Wannabe” and “Stop”, Starlight’s “Music Sounds Better With You”, Eternal’s “I Wanna Be The Only One”, Backstreet Boys (who I hated then and still do now), Lighthouse Family’s “High” and “Raincloud”, Smash Mouth (Mum’s fave), The Mavis’s “Cry”, Kate Ceberano’s “Pash” (even Dad sang that one whilst driving down Mann Street, Gosford), T. Shirt’s “You Sexy Thing”, All Saints’ “Never Ever” and “I Know Where It’s At”, Madonna’s “Frozen” and “Ray of Light”, Fastball’s “The Way”, Pandora’s “A Little Bit”, Mr President’s “Coco Jambo”, Madison Avenue’s “Don’t Call Me Baby”, Marcy Playground’s “Sex and Candy“, Hole’s “Celebrity Skin“, Billie’s “Because We Want To“, Ann Lee’s “2 Times”– now, compare all that to what’s in the charts now. Depressing, isn’t it?

And the above-mentioned songs are the ones I remember vividly. I won’t include all the songs I can recall from then, even the really lame ones I can still sing – “Sister” by S2S, anyone? – and I wish I was born ten years earlier just so I could enjoy all the songs of the early 90’s, the songs that I was way too young to hear but I love now – the house and trance and Britpop, especially Suede and Pulp (if I could look like either Brett Anderson or Jarvis Cocker I would die happy).

Plus, how good was it to watch Recovery after the countdown, which was more “alternative” based but still great; mainly for introducing me to the cool weirdness of Dylan Lewis, The Avalanches, Oasis and how you could fax your homework in and they’d do it for you.

It was around 2001 that I noticed the rise of hip-hop as the in-thing. No more happy sing-a-longs around here, what with the “rap” of bitches, hoes and niggaz to go by – the stupidest hip-hop I’ve ever heard was when I was stuck in a guy’s car which was an ashtray on wheels, the floors a sea of empty Dunhill Blue packets, and he kept this one song on repeat, which the lyrics were already a repeat of ‘I’ll stick it in you, bitch” and “I’ll stick in you again, bitch” – there were still at least a few good things to tide over the feelings of despair that good pop music was coming to an end: No Doubt, even Bardot’s “Poison” was bearable against what really can only be described as “shite”. Of course this was also Britney and Christina and Pink’s heyday too. I didn’t mind Pink at first, and loved “Get The Party Started”, but I’ve never liked Spears or Aguleira. The Wamberal Public School 1999 Talent Show can attest to that, nearly every girl that entered did their own cover of “…Baby One More Time.” Imagine listening to that being murdered by young girls for three hours. Another vivid memory is of when Sea FM in Gosford first played “Genie In A Bottle”, and it didn’t click with me (aged nine) and the halfwit DJ afterwards said “It’s making an impact on the charts here” and with all the power of a moody pre-teen I shot back with, “It’s not on my chart”, with a snarl that Dad found hilarious but should have realised was a sign of the even moodier adolescence that was to come.

But back to 2001-2, I didn’t half mind Shaggy’s “It Wasn’t Me”, Nelly’s “Ride Wit’ Me” (when it came on in a club I went to with two diehard metal-heads I embarrassed them with glee by jumping around and flailing my arms to that tune. “MUST BE THE MONEY!”), and even “Teenage Dirtbag” until it got onto the charts and after what seemed like a decade JUST WOULDN’T DIE.

The last year of me actively listening to chart radio was 2003 – I was in Year 8, nearly 13 and discovering my love of acting and the heart-breaking bullshit of having your first crush. I can remember the songs I loved then the most: Kosheen’s “All In My Head”, Goldfrapp’s “Strict Machine”, R. Kelly’s “Ignition (Remix)” and “Stacy’s Mom” by Fountains of Wayne (for it was the favourite song of my crush, of course) and Outkast’s “Hey Ya” at the end of the year, my soundtrack to going overseas (to New Zealand, a cleaner, smaller and more progressive Australia) for the first time.

2004 was personally shit for a load of reasons: miserable at school and living in Mountain Creek but most of all the good pop was gone. Hip hop had edged it out of there and had become pop(ular) itself. The most crushing blow was Nickelback being taken seriously. Ugh! How many songs about getting a shag or not getting a shag can a gruff-voiced beard make? And so of course that’s when my musical tastes went insular and as alternative as I could – I started listening to Triple JJJ (my Dad’s advice has always been, “If you’re ever fixing a car, you must have Triple J on.” This was doubly true when he worked in a workshop that played lame Triple M instead, “They play U2 every hour! You could set your watch to it!”He’d fume). And of course that’s when I started to learn all the great songs that had been made before I was born, even before my parents were born. At the start of 2004 I was still clinging to pop music, by the end I was listening to T. Rex and Massive Attack’s first two albums, which I suppose is what everybody teenager does, finding songs that have gone before and picking them up like a magpie, stashing them away in your nest and believing you’re the only one who listens.

In closing, proper pop music died in 2004, after spending months on life support until an army of rappers pulled the plug, threw it out in a black bag on bin-night and pissed on good pop’s grave. And if everything old is new and cool again, then where’s the dance music of 1990 – 1995 buggered off to? When’s its comeback due? I would love nothing more than dancing to SNAP!, Culture Beat, Black Box, Haddaway and everyone else when it was “in”.

Remember in 2007 when “nu-rave” was going to be the next big thing and disappeared after a month? It’s taken five years for the “fashions” inspired by the short movement to finally change too – no more fluorescent t-shirts and primary-coloured tat. Now we’ve seemingly tried to re-do the Grunge look – if only with check flannelette shirts and boots.

I want a 90’s revival and I want it now.