Maybe it’s envy, maybe a generational thing, maybe hubris of a less-than-Hip nature, but Jon Magidsohn freely admits that he feels no pressure to speak Hipsters’ language or follow their politics or wear their clothes or read their blogs or pass their quizzes.
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The Guardian news website recently posted an online quiz entitled “How Hipster Are You?” accompanied by a picture of Kanye West cupping his groin. The sub headline was “Think you’ve got credible music taste?” I hadn’t realized that one’s taste in music was the prime litmus test for Nouveau Hipsterism.
I decided to go for it anyway.
I knew this was going to be an exercise in futility for several reasons: I’m fairly certain I haven’t been Hip in almost two decades, although I did surprise myself in recognising Kanye West (not his music, but his groin-cupping persona); I hadn’t heard the word Hipster used unironically since widespread descriptions of Cosmo Kramer ruled the media; It was in the Guardian’s Music Blog, a column that seldom covers any musician born before 1990 when I was twenty-two years old and already enshrouded in the cloak of my musical heroes; and finally, anything defined by a ten-question newspaper quiz is bound to disappoint.
I scrolled down to the first question and was delighted to learn that it would be multiple-choice. There was hope. I usually do pretty well at those. As I learned in high school: first discount the obvious wrong answers and then make an educated guess on the options left over. I might just be a Hipster after all.
Question 1: The Field or The National?
Wait … what? That’s the question? I have to decide between two bands—I think they’re bands—I’ve never heard of? Okay (deep breath), I can do this. Let’s see.
So The Field, as far as I can recall, was a 1990 film starring Richard Harris as an old Irish farmer who would do anything to own a big patch of farmland he’d long pined for. It was a great performance by Harris in an otherwise largely-forgettable movie. The National is the name of the CBC nightly newscast I grew up watching in Toronto, with anchor Peter Mansbridge.
Richard Harris was certainly Hip once; remember MacArthur Park? Peter Mansbridge has always tried to be Hip, but … no. Something told me neither of these options were what the Guardian was going for, so I skipped to the next question.
Question 2: Boards of Canada or Fuck Buttons?
Ummm … maybe I … no.
Question 3: Earl Sweatshirt or Danny Brown?
Okay, Danny Brown. Didn’t he write The Da Vinci Code? And Earl Sweatshirt … no idea. Unless he’s the guy they named the article of clothing after, like the button-down garment named after the 7th Earl of Cardigan.
Quickly looking at the rest of the questions I was able to pick out a grand total of two names I recognised: Justin Timberlake, who I still think of as that curly-haired kid from ‘N Sync, and Daft Punk, who I can proudly declare are the brains behind that ubiquitous Get Lucky song. I think.
There. Am I Hip?
I thought this would be more of a sociological experiment with questions like: 1. Would you rather (a) go nude hang-gliding over the Glastonbury stage with Jennifer Lawrence or (b) discuss the merits of various child-rearing methods over chamomile tea and canapés? If you answered (a) you might be considered a Hipster; (b) maybe not so much. 2. Do you prefer (a) Salinger, Kerouac, Ginsberg, Burroughs and Vonnegut, or (b) Archie, Sluggo, Richie Rich, Sad Sack and Casper? If you answered (a) = Hipster, (b) = Doofus.
These questions I know I’d be able to answer and possibly even emerge appearing at least somewhat Hipsterish. Sadly the quiz did not ask me for my own meaning of the word.
The Urban Dictionary, cyberspace’s crowd-sourced spring of all contemporary information, offers rather lengthy definitions of Hipster including references to ‘independent thinking, counter-culture, progressive politics, an appreciation of art and indie-rock, creativity, intelligence, and witty banter.’ I like all of those things; how did I fail the Guardian quiz?
The definition goes on to suggest that these individuals should be in their twenties or thirties, dress in a particular Hip style with Hip haircuts and ideally live in certain Hip neighbourhoods of select American cities. Okay, so I’m too old, bald, don’t wear torn jeans and I haven’t lived anywhere near America in more than eight years.
Curiously, the Urban Dictionary also declares that being a Hipster is a state of mind; a platform from which to “reject the culturally-ignorant attitudes of mainstream consumers.” I’ll concede that Hipsters are likely to be on the cutting edge of cultural and social change, but surely they are not beyond the reach of popular consumerism. If I can interpret anything from current advertising trends, television programming and social networking zeitgeists, it’s that they are in no small part directed toward today’s Hipsters.
It seems to me that being a Hipster means claiming to reject the evils of the mainstream while secretly wishing for the mainstream to accept them. They are lost somewhere between the counter-culture and the counter-intuitive.
If I’m being unfair it’s probably because I am not, nor will I ever be, Hip. Maybe it’s envy, maybe a generational thing, maybe hubris of a less-than-Hip nature. Maybe I was hip once—the eighties were a long time ago—but at my age there is tremendous liberty in not following trends. I feel no pressure to speak Hipsters’ language or follow their politics or wear their clothes or read their blogs or pass their quizzes. Most importantly I don’t worry what they, or anyone else, thinks of me. Not in a “Fuck you” sort of way. I’m just too old to care.
I do try to keep up with the latest musicians on the scene but there are less and less that fall into my old-school musical bracket. I look at street fashions with admiration to those who can wear them, then I go back to my t-shirt and jeans. I recognize that “trending” is now a verb but I am repelled like coinciding poles on a magnet. And I’m okay with it.
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Photo: stevendepolo/Flickr
Dude. All I know is that I’m so unhip I didn’t even understand why the picture at the top of this page was used.
These days it strikes me that to call someone a hipster is just a politer way of calling them a twat. How can anyone believe that looking like an Edwardian explorer on top (beard and tweed) and a teenage girl below (skinny jeans and pumps) could be construed as anything other than a mistake of the proportions of 70s bell bottoms and elongated collars?
I have heard of a few of those…, Drake, Kanye, Daft Punk, and Justin Timberlake.
meh.