February 1999 ear candy by Maura Johnston |
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It's Better to Burn Out Than Fade Away
Ah, the aging hipster. There was a time when they were the
bleeding edge -- they knew all who were supposed to be known, they had all
the records that were vital to that millisecond they existed in. But
trends, being the unpredictable buggers that they are, twist and turn, and
those who follow the linear path of age get left behind.
And those who have been left behind aren't always so quick to catch up
with the ways of now -- or even with the fact that they're still waiting
at the hipster station, searching for their train that's running on the
oblivion branch. So they become more and more entrenched in their
subculture, completely oblivious to the SCHEDULE CHANGED signs that are
posted all around them.
You know them. I know them. Hell, we might even be able to count ourselves
among them. (If you think you might fall into this category, see below.)
It's sort of like the post-high school cheerleader syndrome; stories of
the most popular person you went to high school with showing up at the
reunion with three kids because she couldn't afford a babysitter are
legendary, right? But the only drawback to that analogy is that, if you
were like me, there was a time that you actually wanted to be these people
-- you thought they were truly interesting, wanted to know what their
opinions were on cultural trends, maybe even wanted to hang out with them
after shows.
Then you actually talk to them. And all is revealed.
Aging hipsters' most aggravating tactic is probably the full-blown
conversation stop. This can happen when almost any subject is being
discussed -- the weather can inspire a reminscence about a totally
excellent early fIREHOSE show, for example. Anything that you might
bring up as a gentle reminder of the present is quickly steamrolled, with
a wave of the bangled arm and a quick reminder of your lack of "diversity"
in taste.
"Diversity" is the key buzzword the aging hipster uses in her
conversation, as a subtle putdown of you and your taste. No matter how
many countries your record collection hails from, no matter how many
tower-approved genres you plucked your cds from during your shopping trip,
if you don't like the music they do, you're culturally undernourished. A
lost cause. Or, if you're especially unlucky, a cause that they can help
by endless proseltyzing, shooting down of anything you might bring up, or
even worse, buying you records and making you feel guilty that you just
don't want to hear it.
Take comfort in this: those who replaced them will become them, some time
later down the line, maybe when they're not even looking. And at that
point, you'll be happily ensconsed in your own world, one where every
purchase you make from the thrift shop isn't obsessively analyzed.
A Handy Guide to the Aging Hipster
If you find yourself in a conversation with any of these types and need to
extricate yourself as quickly as possible, ask them how they feel about
the relative merits of the Backstreet Boys and 'N Sync as opposed to
Cleopatra. Then run.
If you see yourself in any of these descriptions, go to the record store,
buy yourself the latest issue of Rolling Stone and recoil in horror at what you might become.
Maura Johnston is not aging yet, but the staff reminds her, it's only a matter of time. We like having her around to remind us we're not as cool as we think we are.
in the junk drawer:
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