six, he developed a strong predilection for David Bowie, a musical selection that garnered the scorn of his classmates, who much preferred the more mainstream stylings of the New Kids on the Block. Still, rather than folding to cultural pressures, Mikey chose to “hang tough.” At one juncture, a bully pushed Mikey against a locker and exclaimed, “Don’t you know David Bowie’s gay?” Mikey merely jutted out his chin and responded, “No. He’s bi .”
As a psychologist might predict, once Mikey extricated himself from the bowels of suburban Texas and relocated to the sunnier cultural climes of Greenpoint, Brooklyn, he took on the bullying nature of his former oppressors. Although he relents that his Pitchfork-loving, Pool Party-frequenting compatriots have “alright” musical taste, he cannot stand to let anyone else near his turntable (yes, turntable), and often spends entire parties hunched in the corner, sifting through records in order to select the perfect jam. When “partying” with Mikey, it is important to note: No requests will be taken. In fact, Mikey once ordered a close friend to leave after he asked Mikey to play Jay Z’s “Empire State of Mind.”
Recall that by very definition, a hipster is a connoisseur of the arts—at least, he likes to think he is. As loath as some people are to admit it, the taste of this sometimes insufferably selective minority strongly impacts what mainstream culture listens to, watches, reads and adopts as culturally relevant. Still, as soon as the average American gets “hip” to a book, movie or band that hipster culture holds dear, said book, movie or band is cast off like the mechanic’s jumpsuit introduced in Chapter 3 (see page 60). Why? Because the hipster often operates by the Negative Space principle: One of his favorite ways to set trends is by telling people what not to listen to/ read/watch.
While the rest of society will turn to such authoritative sources as the New York Times ’ book list, Rolling Stone or The Academy for guidance, as soon as a well-known body espouses a creative output, the majority of cool-hunters rush to shun it. The trick is to discover a cultural entity before it makes it big.
Take, for example, a band called “The Skills” 22 —an appropriately nebulous name that could have various interpretations. Let’s imagine that The Skills comprises three young men, Trevor, Parker and Billy, who supplement their income by doing freelance web design, copy-editing and bartending, respectively. On the weekends, they play friends’ loft parties, functions that they lure their associates to with the promise of coke.
Now let us suppose that a small group of kids sees them play at one of these parties, locates their MySpace page and listens to their jams on repeat. These fans continue to go to their shows as The Skills book bigger and bigger venues—Pete’s Candy Store, Cake Shop, Brooklyn Bowl, Bowery Ballroom—until their album hits Pitchfork and gets a glowing review. A hot feeling of jealousy invades the diehard listeners’ chests when they hear their favorite song 23 at local coffee shops. The trendsetters listen to the disc less and less frequently, and when their friends put it on at parties they can only mutter bitterly, “God, I knew about these guys when the only people in the audience were me and the fucking bartender.” After “Darkness Sleeps So Softly on Your Windowsill” finds its way onto a commercial for the next insipid Apple product, our ahead-of-the-curve music snobs thoroughly loathe The Skills, whose members have quit their menial jobs since reaching “the Big Time.” [See Figure 9 .]
Figure 9 : Venues and How They Relate to Coolness
a. Playing accordion on the L platform: Pathetic, but admirable
b. Playing a friend’s loft party: No one’s listening, but less pathetic
c. Opening for a CMJ band at an illegal music venue: Respectable
d. Playing at an illegal music
As a psychologist might predict, once Mikey extricated himself from the bowels of suburban Texas and relocated to the sunnier cultural climes of Greenpoint, Brooklyn, he took on the bullying nature of his former oppressors. Although he relents that his Pitchfork-loving, Pool Party-frequenting compatriots have “alright” musical taste, he cannot stand to let anyone else near his turntable (yes, turntable), and often spends entire parties hunched in the corner, sifting through records in order to select the perfect jam. When “partying” with Mikey, it is important to note: No requests will be taken. In fact, Mikey once ordered a close friend to leave after he asked Mikey to play Jay Z’s “Empire State of Mind.”
Recall that by very definition, a hipster is a connoisseur of the arts—at least, he likes to think he is. As loath as some people are to admit it, the taste of this sometimes insufferably selective minority strongly impacts what mainstream culture listens to, watches, reads and adopts as culturally relevant. Still, as soon as the average American gets “hip” to a book, movie or band that hipster culture holds dear, said book, movie or band is cast off like the mechanic’s jumpsuit introduced in Chapter 3 (see page 60). Why? Because the hipster often operates by the Negative Space principle: One of his favorite ways to set trends is by telling people what not to listen to/ read/watch.
While the rest of society will turn to such authoritative sources as the New York Times ’ book list, Rolling Stone or The Academy for guidance, as soon as a well-known body espouses a creative output, the majority of cool-hunters rush to shun it. The trick is to discover a cultural entity before it makes it big.
Take, for example, a band called “The Skills” 22 —an appropriately nebulous name that could have various interpretations. Let’s imagine that The Skills comprises three young men, Trevor, Parker and Billy, who supplement their income by doing freelance web design, copy-editing and bartending, respectively. On the weekends, they play friends’ loft parties, functions that they lure their associates to with the promise of coke.
Now let us suppose that a small group of kids sees them play at one of these parties, locates their MySpace page and listens to their jams on repeat. These fans continue to go to their shows as The Skills book bigger and bigger venues—Pete’s Candy Store, Cake Shop, Brooklyn Bowl, Bowery Ballroom—until their album hits Pitchfork and gets a glowing review. A hot feeling of jealousy invades the diehard listeners’ chests when they hear their favorite song 23 at local coffee shops. The trendsetters listen to the disc less and less frequently, and when their friends put it on at parties they can only mutter bitterly, “God, I knew about these guys when the only people in the audience were me and the fucking bartender.” After “Darkness Sleeps So Softly on Your Windowsill” finds its way onto a commercial for the next insipid Apple product, our ahead-of-the-curve music snobs thoroughly loathe The Skills, whose members have quit their menial jobs since reaching “the Big Time.” [See Figure 9 .]
Figure 9 : Venues and How They Relate to Coolness
a. Playing accordion on the L platform: Pathetic, but admirable
b. Playing a friend’s loft party: No one’s listening, but less pathetic
c. Opening for a CMJ band at an illegal music venue: Respectable
d. Playing at an illegal music
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