Small Worlds
12/15/2009 9:37 AM – 10:01 AM
And so now I’m going to be listening to some hipster music. Well, I’m going to try anyway. Not at the moment. At the moment, I’m listening to nothing but the quiet crackle in my headphones. When I was working on the detective story, I listened almost exclusively to pop dance music. It has a driving beat and doesn’t really capture the attention. Perfect.
I think that hipster music is music written by musicians for musicians. The rest of us get the occasional scraps of accessibility, but to really get into it, you have to be at least at a 4th level remove from the non-musician. Doesn’t mean it’s not good. As far as I can tell, it is. But people that are obsessed with music listen to it a lot and want to create it. For the most part, music is in my background acting like a sheet between me and my boredom. Since I moved from Buffalo and don’t have that 50 minutes of walking to work to dedicate to giving an album its 3 good listens to, I haven’t listened to any new albums. I’ve listened to some old albums for the first time, but mostly, I’ve been catching up with “classic” rock singles, because I wasn’t allowed to listen to it as a kid.
At a certain point, it becomes more difficult to be the noob. Maybe as my co-workers get steadily younger. I fake knowing. Mostly because it just saves time and ridicule. I’m not bashing ridicule, by the way. A light-hearted ridicule can be a good spur to action, but I’m getting old. I’m not old by current standards, 70 is, after all, the new 60, but in my line of work, the grunts of which I am a member are usually younger than me. With my brain, I should be better employed. Or I should be in the loony bin. The wash is that I’m a dishwasher. The problem with my upbringing, any tightly closed upbringing, is that, unless I was going to stay within the confines of the childhood world, most of the things that I had packed into my brain became useless. I’m too restless for that, so out here in the average world, I’m one step behind the rest. Even philosophy, universally accepted, is a self-referential world. Maybe that’s why I liked it. So we’ll try again with the hipster’s earwigs. Because self is all I've got. Because nothing is more self-obsessed than a hipster.
And so now I’m going to be listening to some hipster music. Well, I’m going to try anyway. Not at the moment. At the moment, I’m listening to nothing but the quiet crackle in my headphones. When I was working on the detective story, I listened almost exclusively to pop dance music. It has a driving beat and doesn’t really capture the attention. Perfect.
I think that hipster music is music written by musicians for musicians. The rest of us get the occasional scraps of accessibility, but to really get into it, you have to be at least at a 4th level remove from the non-musician. Doesn’t mean it’s not good. As far as I can tell, it is. But people that are obsessed with music listen to it a lot and want to create it. For the most part, music is in my background acting like a sheet between me and my boredom. Since I moved from Buffalo and don’t have that 50 minutes of walking to work to dedicate to giving an album its 3 good listens to, I haven’t listened to any new albums. I’ve listened to some old albums for the first time, but mostly, I’ve been catching up with “classic” rock singles, because I wasn’t allowed to listen to it as a kid.
At a certain point, it becomes more difficult to be the noob. Maybe as my co-workers get steadily younger. I fake knowing. Mostly because it just saves time and ridicule. I’m not bashing ridicule, by the way. A light-hearted ridicule can be a good spur to action, but I’m getting old. I’m not old by current standards, 70 is, after all, the new 60, but in my line of work, the grunts of which I am a member are usually younger than me. With my brain, I should be better employed. Or I should be in the loony bin. The wash is that I’m a dishwasher. The problem with my upbringing, any tightly closed upbringing, is that, unless I was going to stay within the confines of the childhood world, most of the things that I had packed into my brain became useless. I’m too restless for that, so out here in the average world, I’m one step behind the rest. Even philosophy, universally accepted, is a self-referential world. Maybe that’s why I liked it. So we’ll try again with the hipster’s earwigs. Because self is all I've got. Because nothing is more self-obsessed than a hipster.
posted by Spike at 7:04 AM
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