Pop, Goes the Culture

This post is in response to Virginia’s response (kind of makes me think about that song that they use to teach elementary school children about US geography about taking the Train to different US states and learning about them – VA smokes a pack a day, oh wait, that’s ME but anyway – how fitting that the name goes to a teacher!) to Cape Town’s lament (hey how’s the weather in Cape Town, by the way? Do you guys dress like this over there?) about getting older. By the way, I am always going to refer to “anxiety about getting older” as Cape Town’s Lament from now on.

So to recap from those posts, Cape Town feels American pop culture slipping away from him as he becomes a politics and Harold Bloom-loving, shitty-Aerosmith-listening-to old man. He finds himself wondering whether other 24-year-olds feel the same way as he does about his detachment from his own popular culture (evidenced by the fact that he cares more about the 2008 Presidential elections than Britney’s new do, and that he has to feign interest and knowledge when discussing American Idol). Meanwhile Virginia feels that music is worse than it was, concedes that he doesn’t watch American Idol, but takes comfort in the fact that he likes 24 and is kind of curious about how Justin Timberlake feels about Cameron Diaz having coitus with Djimon Honsou from Blood Diamond.

Now I think I’ll take the last part first and tell you what JT is thinking about Cameron Diaz and Djimon Honsou. He is thinking one of two things:

1. A dick in a box is forever: DeBeers
2. Dick in a box: she’ll pretty much have to

Now that I’ve resolved that I’d like to answer Virgina’s question with a question of my own; how many high school history teachers do you see wondering what JT thinks about CD and DH? It’s not a rhetorical question, I really don’t know. But I can surmise. And what do I surmise? I surmise that any high school teacher that’s thinking about what Justin Timberlake is thinking is probably thinking about it with little kids. Little, history student kids.

This leads (rather seamlessly) into my answer to Cape Town’s lament. So to comfort Cape Town, I say, fear not (lest ye be renamed Cape Fear Town), for you are not that old, yet. Sure, you are older than you once were. Younger than you’ll be. That’s not unusual. But all you are reflecting in your lament is the fact that pop culture means different things for different demographics, especially different age groups. There are different strands of pop culture for different ages, and items of a particular strand are often pretty dull to those in other age groups, while other items straddle or even transcend age groups. Harry Potter transcends age groups, as does sports.

Take me for example, at around age 9 let’s say. I freaking loved video games. Legend of Zelda, Toe Jam & Earl, Streetfighter II - you name it, I became less tan playing it. I remember noting to myself that most adults (like my parents and nearly all of my friends’ parents) did not share my passion for what I saw as the most glorious possible use of my free time, and I swore that I would never get bored of playing video games. Well guess what 9-year-old Boston Dissentator, video games, like American Idol and caring what the lead singer of N*SYNC thinks about Mary Jensen and Solomon Vandy, or caring about Britney’s new do, are for kids. So I propose that as we get older, we leave much of the pop culture of our younger selves behind, and take up the pop culture of older age groups, which is much better-suited to people of our age, like 24, or Arrested Development, or The Office, or Dave Chappelle (better not bring your kids!).

Now the great thing is that we don’t have to discard everything that we liked from our younger self’s pop culture, like Harry Potter or the New York Mets, we can keep the really good stuff forever. Of course, as we hold onto things like music throughout our old age we may at the same time exchange kinds of music, like Aerosmith for the older, shittier Aerosmith, or the Beatles for Oasis, the Shitty Beatles. Cape Town implies that we are getting older and our tastes in music are to blame (we’ve gone soft in our old age, wear Cosby sweaters, read On the Road, and listen to sad bastard music), while Virginia says he certainly feels that music is worse now. Well, which is it?

This is a very difficult question to answer, and I can answer it, but only by invoking the wisdom of the great sage known as Chris Rock. Chris Rock is a perfect example of why we shouldn't fear getting old - both because he is old and awesome, and because we like him. He’s 41 years old, yet he still loves rap music. While he still loves rap, he seems to admit that some of it isn’t as good as it used to be. Is this true? If so, why? I guess I can think of two reasons and you judge whether they make any sense. The first reason is that, for economic and technology reasons, every day it becomes easier for any idiot to make music and to get access to music. The same proportion of people listen to Elvis and Sinatra as they did back then, it’s just that now there’s eleventy billion other people listening to all kinds of stuff that didn’t exist (or we couldn't get as readily) back then and is taking center stage today. The second reason is that the entertainment industry demands that artists (at least those who aren’t already rich and can make whatever they want) produce things that will be a safe bet for instant mass sales, and this means that simplicity and catchiness reign supreme. In the words of Chris Rock, “if the beat’s alright, she will dance all night." (WATCH IT!!!!)

What's a Matter with Kids Today?

I think it began in high school, maybe in summer time when I first noticed it -- lazing the day away on my friend's couch, flipping channels, sneaking beers, enjoying our youth. The feeling swept over me, both forceful and vague, and it had nothing to do with the heat, and it had nothing to do with underage drinking. I was getting old. Only after these afternoons formed my memory of those summers, could I codify and isolate the sentiment, and I realized it was because of TRL, a show on Mtv for idiots, hosted by a then plumper and equally insipid Carson Daily. I didn't like the show or the music or any of it and I realized that I would no longer be the first to know the most recent Top 40 hit or be able to ride whatever cultural wave would come our way. There I was, at 16, infirm beyond my years, and this aging process has continued precipitously since.

In my last post, I discussed my affinity for Harold Bloom's views on Harry Potter, and by doing so exposed the crotchety traditionalist that I feel myself becoming. I need to know: is this what has happened to 24 year olds in each generation? Do others my age feel as I do about their detachment from their own popular culture? Was it the same when those raised on Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin watch their piers and those only years younger flock to "talkies"; when people switched from radio broadcasts to black and white television, and similarly until now, watching their friends and younger siblings shift with unsettling ease -- from black and white to color, from Elvis to Bob Dylan, from Aerosmith to shitty, older Aerosmith?

Reading about the recent debate on the Middlebury College campus, where the History Department has formally banned the use of Wikipedia for citation purposes, I found myself siding with The Man, and I have spent hours of enjoyment on Wikipedia. What the hell is happening here? Am I alone on this one? Please, fellow dissentators, mount up, let me hear you.

Perhaps these are just passing moments, only forming in my mind into a pathology by their repetition. I mean, I'm blogging aren't I? That's right, I am. Dammit, I'm all about the zeitgeist, baby. Who cares if I care more about the 2008 Presidential elections than Britney's new do, or that I have to feign interest and knowledge when discussing American Idol, or that I try to keep up my fiber intake (just joking with that one). The atmosphere on the internet and in the public discourse has forced us into taking this type of polarized stance -- we're either left lamenting progress or shouting down any who stand in its way. It's okay to form opinions without having to take sides. You can be ambivalent without being apathetic. All I'm asking is that you please turn the music down.

Intellectuals to the Left of Me, Wizards to the Right

As the reading world gears up for the final installment of the Harry Potter series, I would like to take the opportunity to do a little self-reflection concerning literary critic Harold Bloom, Harry, and me. Many are aware of the opinions of Yale and NYU professor, revered reader, and aging man of letters Harold Bloom regarding popular fiction and the "dumbing down of our culture" (see WSJ Op-Ed and Boston Globe article). Of course the obvious reaction ensued after Bloom denounced the reading of Harry Potter and its argued literary merits: rabid Potter fans went bonkers and anti-intellectuals and moderate Potter fans felt rebuffed and ambiguously insulted and thus joined the anti-Bloom mob. Where do I fit in all of this? Here is a little background about a obstinate budding intellectual and the young wizard (I'm not the wizard, just to be clear.)

Since the arrival of the first Harry Potter book, I turned a deaf ear to fanfare, hoopla, and the rest of it, believing children's literature should be read by children and not discussed at the grown-ups table. For about 6 years, I avoided all cultural ties to the Potter series -- didn't touch a book, see one of the films or even sit through their trailers, and did my best not to engage in these conversations. Now, after having read the six published Potter books, I cannot recall exactly why, but the whole phenomenon rubbed me the wrong way. Why do adults, whose intellects I respect, read children's literature, and on the other side, why do we believe that children are actually reading 800 page novels? These novels seemed to reside is some literary limbo, hefty reads for adults yet clearly aimed at children. A year ago, I fell ill to some flu and was given the books to read. I admit here and now that I read them all within 3 weeks and cried for the last chapters of the sixth volume due to the death of one of my favorite characters.

And yet, however spellbinding (excuse the pun, seriously, I'm sorry) these books were, however much I wished that I had had the seventh book to immediately flip to, I still remained unconvinced of their literary merit or what they offer kids such as my 6 year old niece, who has all six in hardcover waiting for her on her shelf. As an English major and an admirer of Bloom's I cannot help but agree with the man. Some find him a relic of literati past, in his last throws, strutting and fretting his last hour on Charlie Rose, full of sound and fury; but this is the cowards way out, the anti-intellectual, modern dismissive way out. Those who oppose Bloom's views seem to do so in defense of enjoying what they read, but this argument only exposes their ignorance of Bloom's work and the foundation of his opinions.

Bloom is one of the few academics today who expresses his love for his subject (at great length, admittedly) and has dedicated many of his recent publications to engender this same appreciation in us readers. While his demeanor may be that of an old windbag, he approaches his chosen profession like a child, with admiration for writers and the written word. So when Bloom asks, "Why read, if what you read will not enrich mind or spirit or personality?", of course he sees few other options; this enrichment is exactly what comes of reading Proust, Joyce, Shakespeare, et al. This transcendent reading experience allowed me to finish four years as an undergraduate English Major and a one year Master's program. And I can objectively say that the experience of reading Harry Potter is a non-alcoholic beer compared to the heroin shot that great literature can supply.

Increasingly, as I approach my 25th year, I sense the world of my formative years changing without my input or consent. I am at once a traditionalist and a progressive, tugged with equal force at both ends between the possibilities of the internet and the comfort and stillness of the written word. There remains an enveloping tranquility in sitting near a large, well-stocked bookshelf that no search engine or google's proposed digital library can provide. As a recent NYT article stated:

"Surely we have never read, or written, so many words a day. Yet increasingly we deal in atomized bits of information, the hors d'oeuvres of education. We read not in continuous narratives but by linkage, the movable type of the 21st century. Our appetites are gargantuan, our attention spans anorectic." (full article)

And so I cannot help but agree entirely with Bloom while also pitying the man for his inevitable existence today as an outmoded literary figure. I wouldn't mind if we had a few more left like him to keep us honest and skeptical of the world we are creating for ourselves. Will digital libraries offer the world's knowledge in a click or will it offer it piecemeal, useful only for graduation speeches and last minute term papers? Will the reader of tomorrow, being raised today, be able to sustain the attention span necessary to finish a novel, let alone Ulysses?

But, seriously, all that aside, how pumped are you for Book 7?

Also, if you're interested in a recent book by Harold Bloom that I highly recommend, please pick up his Jesus and Yahweh.