Halloween night was also the first night of the CMJ Music Marathon, which drew out more hipsters than CBGB’s last weekend in business. Although rock ‘n roll style has been a cultural phenomenon for many years, it seems as though the “style” has surpassed rock ‘n roll itself in the recent past. This is evidenced by the conversations I hear in and around rock shows. It seems that most people aren’t as interested in the band they’re seeing as who will see them in their new beat-up looking jeans and stupid hairstyle.
At the Knitting Factory, I went outside for a smoke and overheard four dudes talking about their stupid jackets. At least half of them were “on,” attempting to say something witty with the possible bonus of sounding sharp.
I started talking to them about something, maybe the drinks, when a few of their friends approached, one of which appeared to be a younger version of Saturday Night Live’s “lovely” Rachel Dratch.
“What are you guys dressed up as?” asked the girl, attempting to draw some kind of humor from the group, as they were clearly not in costume.
Dead silence. The young men stared at each other, each hoping one would say something funny before their river of self-proclaimed coolness went bone dry.
“A bunch of fucking hipsters,” I said, and took another drag from my cigarette.
They were markedly saddened by this perception, but had no real comment.
For a culture that glorifies sarcasm and irony through fashion, they’re quite tender on the inside. The nice thing about hipsters is that you can say whatever you want to them and they won’t beat you up. (It might mess up their hair.)
Once again, if I’m not busy out there burning bridges, it’s only because I stopped to buy more matches.