Stuff Hipsters Hate by Brenna Ehrlich, Andrea Bartz Page A
Authors: Brenna Ehrlich, Andrea Bartz
Ads: Link
venue: Cool (bonus points if the cops break it up)
e. Playing a show at one of Brooklyn’s more popular venues: Cool, unless it costs more than $5
f. Actually playing at CMJ or Pitchfork: Pretty fucking cool
g. Playing Bonaroo: We’re glad you’re touring, but, seriously, fucking Bonaroo ?
h. Playing a show in Manhattan: Seriously, you expect me to cross the bridge to see you play the same three fucking songs you played at CMJ? And at Brooklyn Bowl? And in that totally emo video on Pitchfork?
i. Playing from the speakers at a local bar: Don’t you go to this bar? Isn’t this embarrassing for you? Oh wait, you’re on fucking tour. Too good for BK, huh?
j. Playing from the speakers at American Eagle: I don’t go to American Eagle, but if I did, I would be fucking livid.
Hipsters are exclusive, jealous beasts. You may think they would wish only success on bands (and authors and indie film producers) they admire and adore—after all, in many cases the artists clinging to these dreams are their close friends or, oftentimes, themselves. But in reality hipsters will summarily dismiss someone or something they once held dear when said thing “sells out.” Why? Again, hipsters are “interested in new and unconventional patterns.” Once a band 24 has been adopted by mainstream society, it is no longer “unconventional” nor “new.” It is accepted, integrated into the world that the hipster is striving to escape by scrabbling toward the horizon of artistic expression.
This process is actually necessary for society to create novel and varied forms of entertainment. If there weren’t some subset of the population as continuously disappointed, eternally fickle and intrinsically ADD-afflicted as the residents of the hipster realm, the entertainment sphere would constantly be replete with moldering cultural geriatrics pumping out one tired product after the next. 25 The sad byproduct, however, is that the hipster exists as a perpetual malcontent, and hanging out with such a terminally unimpressed specimen is like passing an evening with Hamlet: lots of whining and more than a few suicide attempts.
DIGITAL MUSIC
Yeah, hipsters may Torrent with the best of them, but they hate purchasing digital music. If they had their druthers, we would never have moved beyond vinyl—something they will tell you repeatedly as they flip through their stack of worn records, searching for the perfect LP with which to seduce you whilst drinking sickly sweet wine from teacups. Still, in true hypocritical hipster fashion, homeboy totally has an iPod (complete with big-ass, brightly colored headphones), which is basically welded to his head at all times. How else can he compose the soundtrack of his life—listlessly riding home from Red Hook, The National wailing into his embittered ears about how Ada has left it all up in the air? But everyone knows that such exquisite pain sounds much better when scratched out of a 10-inch sheet of plastic.
THE CATCHER IN THE RYE
J. D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye is one of the most mystifying additions to the hipster’s canon of hatred. After all, Holden Caulfield is the original hipster—one might even expect him to be their poster boy. Perhaps the similarities are too much to handle. Perhaps their hatred springs from the fact that we were all forced to read said book in high school, and any mention of high school unearths a plethora of scarring memories. Or perhaps it’s just because Holden ends up in an asylum in the end (“Hey, we’re eccentric , not batshit insane …”). Either way, this is a curious state of affairs considering how many traits Holden and hipsters share. Observe:
1. He is a talented and intelligent artistic soul who hasn’t lived up to his full potential and doesn’t know exactly what to do with his life. That’s the textbook definition of a hipster. I bet Holden grew up to be a freelance programmer and guerilla installation artist (after
e. Playing a show at one of Brooklyn’s more popular venues: Cool, unless it costs more than $5
f. Actually playing at CMJ or Pitchfork: Pretty fucking cool
g. Playing Bonaroo: We’re glad you’re touring, but, seriously, fucking Bonaroo ?
h. Playing a show in Manhattan: Seriously, you expect me to cross the bridge to see you play the same three fucking songs you played at CMJ? And at Brooklyn Bowl? And in that totally emo video on Pitchfork?
i. Playing from the speakers at a local bar: Don’t you go to this bar? Isn’t this embarrassing for you? Oh wait, you’re on fucking tour. Too good for BK, huh?
j. Playing from the speakers at American Eagle: I don’t go to American Eagle, but if I did, I would be fucking livid.
Hipsters are exclusive, jealous beasts. You may think they would wish only success on bands (and authors and indie film producers) they admire and adore—after all, in many cases the artists clinging to these dreams are their close friends or, oftentimes, themselves. But in reality hipsters will summarily dismiss someone or something they once held dear when said thing “sells out.” Why? Again, hipsters are “interested in new and unconventional patterns.” Once a band 24 has been adopted by mainstream society, it is no longer “unconventional” nor “new.” It is accepted, integrated into the world that the hipster is striving to escape by scrabbling toward the horizon of artistic expression.
This process is actually necessary for society to create novel and varied forms of entertainment. If there weren’t some subset of the population as continuously disappointed, eternally fickle and intrinsically ADD-afflicted as the residents of the hipster realm, the entertainment sphere would constantly be replete with moldering cultural geriatrics pumping out one tired product after the next. 25 The sad byproduct, however, is that the hipster exists as a perpetual malcontent, and hanging out with such a terminally unimpressed specimen is like passing an evening with Hamlet: lots of whining and more than a few suicide attempts.
DIGITAL MUSIC
Yeah, hipsters may Torrent with the best of them, but they hate purchasing digital music. If they had their druthers, we would never have moved beyond vinyl—something they will tell you repeatedly as they flip through their stack of worn records, searching for the perfect LP with which to seduce you whilst drinking sickly sweet wine from teacups. Still, in true hypocritical hipster fashion, homeboy totally has an iPod (complete with big-ass, brightly colored headphones), which is basically welded to his head at all times. How else can he compose the soundtrack of his life—listlessly riding home from Red Hook, The National wailing into his embittered ears about how Ada has left it all up in the air? But everyone knows that such exquisite pain sounds much better when scratched out of a 10-inch sheet of plastic.
THE CATCHER IN THE RYE
J. D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye is one of the most mystifying additions to the hipster’s canon of hatred. After all, Holden Caulfield is the original hipster—one might even expect him to be their poster boy. Perhaps the similarities are too much to handle. Perhaps their hatred springs from the fact that we were all forced to read said book in high school, and any mention of high school unearths a plethora of scarring memories. Or perhaps it’s just because Holden ends up in an asylum in the end (“Hey, we’re eccentric , not batshit insane …”). Either way, this is a curious state of affairs considering how many traits Holden and hipsters share. Observe:
1. He is a talented and intelligent artistic soul who hasn’t lived up to his full potential and doesn’t know exactly what to do with his life. That’s the textbook definition of a hipster. I bet Holden grew up to be a freelance programmer and guerilla installation artist (after
Similar Books
