Hip(ster) Semi-Stasis

Perusing over blogs last night, I came across the Gawker article, "Lawsuits: Racist Hipsters Schooled by Ex-American Apparel Employee," yet one more example confirming the stereotype, and even the ideal for some, that hipsters tend to be both white and racist. This example also further condemns the general mindset of American Apparel, where sexuality - and some might say sexual exploitation - is a fundamental part of the company's ethos. "Living On The Edge At American Apparel" an article published in June 2005 in Businessweek, examines the controversy surrounding Dov Charney, the CEO of American Apparel.

Charney, whose company has become a hipster empire for its stylish, sexy, unlabeled American-made sweatshop-free clothes, considers himself a bohemian, free-spirited individual unconstrained by traditional corporate policies, including not to have sexual relations with employees. He argues that as long as the activity is consensual, it is unproblematic and private. Similar to Charney's risque attitude towards sexuality in the workplace, he considers offensive and crude language just par for the course. A 2006 NBC article, "Sexy marketing or sexual harrassment?", details Charny's responses on deposition video, in which he claims that derogatory language is generally welcome at the workplace and the term "slut" is often endearing rather than offensive. As Businessweek concludes, Charney's primary obstacle in his search for worldwide commercial success may ultimately be himself.

From the 2005 Businessweek article:


Charney's attitude perhaps embodies the epitome of the prevailing hipster attitude: to embrace one's personal beliefs with complete disregard to what is considered professional or PC. And thus he still reins successful in the commercial and hipster spheres, with ads featuring images of scantily clad, sexualized young adults parading all over the media, both in print and online.

Interestingly, the Gawker article on hipster racism links to a New York Times article about Vice Magazine with an eerily similar title to the Businessweek article on American Apparel: "The Edge of Hip: Vice, the Brand." This 2003 NY Times article discusses the Vice construction of the hipster as an upper-class, dirty, Pabst-Blue-Ribbon-chugging, college-educated kid, probably living in Williamsburg, who achieves rebel status and street cred by assuming a working-class image and borrowing from its lifestyle. Vice, which unabashedly voices its un-PC opinions, promotes a brash form of counterculture that simply argues, according to the article, that the current generation is immune to the sting of ethnic slurs and considers it all a part of our contemporary cultural posturing.

And these articles, written from 2-5 years ago, all still ring true today. Perhaps that Adbusters article scathingly denouncing hipsters as vapid cultural consumers and regurgitators, was really on to something after all - at least, unfortunately, in some spheres of our culture.

"Xanadu": The Musical

Before I saw "Xanadu" saw last night, I knew very little about it, only that it was a Broadway show and featured Whoopi Goldberg. I also had a vague idea that Xanadu stood for some kind of utopian idea and/or place, similar to Shangri-La. Unsure of what to expect once in the theater (Helen Hayes Theater, apparently once called Little Theater for its diminutive size) and seeing the modest stage featuring additional audience seats, I found that the unassuming size was more than compensated for with the set and costume design. I found that I got into the performance more than I had expected, and I was surrounded by an even more enthusiastic audience.

The performance, a fun, 80's-theme spectacle, focuses on Sonny Malone, a down-on-his-luck artist, and the Greek Muses who help him or are otherwise peripherally involved. Whoopi Goldberg plays one of the two matronly Olympian Muses; these two Muses develop their own plan to curse the Muse Clio into falling in love with him (which Muses are forbidden to do) so that they, and not she, might have the opportunity to enter Xanadu. What is Xanadu, the one Muse asks the other? Something so special it cannot be talked about, says the other. And thus mystified, the prospect of entering Xanadu is that much more enticing. They break into a spirited song entitled "Evil Woman," rejoicing over their evil intentions, and they finish with a cackle (to which the audience responds wildly).

The show primarily follows Clio - masquerading as an Australian rollerskating mortal named Kira - and Sonny, as she works to help him regain his inspiration, and the artistic and romantic developments that ensue. The plot is interspersed with songs, rollerskating, and jive-talking dramatics. Clio, or Kira to Sonny, finds herself in a torment as she realizes she has done several things forbidden to Muses: she has fallen in love, and she has made her own artwork. She has helped Sonny to fulfill his dream of opening up his fantasized meeting place for arts and athletics: a roller disco, and she decides that now is when she must flee. I won't spoil the plot any further, except to remind you that the show is a comedy and not a tragedy, if you wonder what happens next.



I have subsequently learned that the Broadway show is loosely based off the 1980 movie, Xanadu. The term Xanadu, it turns out, is borrowed from a poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, "Kubla Khan, or A Vision in a Dream. A Fragment." In the poem, Xanadu is the Chinese province where Khan situates his pleasure garden. In the show, Xanadu simply means "true love and the ability to create and share art."

An enjoyable musical comedy with substantial flair, from the costumes and the rollerskating, to the sarcastic remarks made by Whoopi and company, "Xanadu" was impressive for what it was. I learned furthermore that the movie basis of the show was a horrendous failure until it eventually regained an audience and became an 80's cult classic. From "Xana-don't," as the movie became dubbed, to the Broadway adaptation, the show is non-stop campy fun. As New York Magazine puts it, it is "Springtime for 'Xanadu' ."

"Xanadu" plays until September 7. The official site is here: Xanadu on Broadway.

Book Reviews: What I have been reading lately...

Infidel by Ayaan Hirsi Ali

My review

rating: 5 of 5 stars
This is an incredible memoir that details one woman's departure and escape from Somalia and Islam. She gives a very articulate, dry-eyed account of life as a woman in Muslim culture, and the difficulty to transgress her upbringing, which she slowly manages to do.

Her story is an amazing feat: from a Muslim woman with no voice in her own life to a woman who transformed herself into a very well-educated, leading political voice, she has overcome many obstacles and made not only a name for herself but for her cause as well (to enlighten both the West and Muslims of the religion's fundamentally oppressive nature, as she tells it).



Wonderful Tonight: An Autobiography by Pattie Boyd

My review

rating: 4 of 5 stars
This book is a fascinating rock 'n roll memoir from the perspective of a woman who helped inspire the music. Pattie Boyd, originally famous as a model, became the muse and wife for both George Harrison of the Beatles and Eric Clapton, and she very matter-of-factly details her crazy rock-'n-roll life with both of them.

Yet Pattie Boyd, while illuminating the two musicians' artistic, free-spirited and often disheveled personalities and lives, also tells her own story. She begins with her childhood, a very unorthodox life that makes sense as a precursor for her life to come, and ends with her life living, finally, on her own as a single woman. Her story, both enticing and engrossing, tells of crazy adventures, tumultuous times, self-sacrifice, soul-searching and fun along the way.

For supplementary information, visit her website: Pattie Boyd.

"Patti Smith: Dream of Life," a Haunting, Beautiful Video Collage

This movie, www.dreamoflifethemovie.com/, ostensibly a documentary or "rockumentary," is a layered, nuanced film that hits the audience like an epic poem of words, images, and song. While the film may give little substantively on Patti Smith's amazing achievements and incredible life journey, it does reveal the surfaces, chronologically overlapped and mis-mashed of an amazing, trailblazing woman and her life. The film, apparently in the making for 12 years, is a performance piece that, in the free-spirited, artistic tradition of Patti Smith, refuses to play by the rules or conform to expectations. The result is a fantastic collage of her amiable, profoundly unique personality over the years.


Patti Smith tells the camera how bizarre it is having people come up to you and ask how it feels to be a rock icon, and that this label always makes her think of Mt. Rushmore. It is this quality of humility, warmth and humor that the film conveys, along with her deeply entrenched spiritual and musical sense of self.

I recommend learning more about Patti Smith and sitting back to appreciate her amazing accomplishments as a female rock-poet goddess. The film is now showing at Film Forum.

Two insightful reviews about the film that I recommend: Jesus died for somebody's sins ... but not hers (Salon.com) and "Patti Smith: Dream of Life," Godmother of Punk, Celebrator of Life (nytimes.com).

This Week In Music, Featuring Radiohead

This past week has been a whirlwind of music shows for me. Calling me a music junkie or a concert-going addict may not be too far off. "That's what summer's for," say my roommates. My conclusion: outdoor music shows and festivals are definitely an essential highlight of the summer.

So, the week started off with seeing The National headlining at Central Park Summerstage on Monday, with Plants and Animals and Yeasayer opening for them. The ironic part about my attendance of this show was that my friend and I sat outside of the Summerstage venue itself for the first two opening acts and opted instead to sit on my picnic blanket on the bare hill to the side. There we sat sharing a bottle of wine and mellowly enjoying the music and each other's company before deciding to make our way into the heart of the show and the crowd.

Yeasayer was in fact the highlight for me musically with its soaring vocals and sweeping sounds. I appreciated hearing them while relaxing with my (plastic) glass of wine in hand and sitting next to my friend, away from the energized crowd. After polishing off the wine, we were buoyed and ready to stand and immerse ourselves in a sea of people and sound. The National put on a strong show, with a range of both mellow and rocking tunes. To cap off the show, my friend and I had made it towards the front of the stage, where for most of the set, we were standing by the VIP section and remarkably near the actress Julia Stiles. (And in cool NYC style, she was left generally undisturbed by the crowd.)

Next show: the McCarren Park Pool Party on Thursday, with The Black Keys headlining, opened by Tapes 'n Tapes. This show did not strike me as quite so spectacular. I am not so familiar with Tapes 'n Tapes and was not so impressed, either. The Black Keys, whose album I enjoy, had a good sound live, but neither the sound nor the performance especially stood out.



I was forcibly reminded how derivative the Black Keys' sound is, though I still enjoy their kind of acoustic fusion and "blues-rock" sound. Further disappointed by the scarcity of food and amenities at McCarren Pool, where there is no re-entry, my friend and I mutually agreed to leave early.

And the clincher, headlining performance of the week: Radiohead at the All Points West Festival at Liberty State Park. The entire experience was memorable. The venue, a gorgeous sprawling lawn with three stages, food courts and "beer gardens," reminded me strongly of the Pitchfork Festival in Chicago. While my friend and I spent the first few hours there yesterday scoping out different bands (Animal Collective and Sia), and alternating our time in various lines (all just a tad excruciatingly slow), we settled down to a prime spot for the opening of Radiohead.



Radiohead's performance was nothing short of extraordinary. Thom Yorke was in top form. The sound and the lighting were incredible; they could not have been more perfectly arranged or aligned. Adding further to the beauty of their stage setup and lighting was the panoramic view of the NYC skyline surrounding the show. The overall experience was breathtaking. Radiohead played songs from both later and earlier albums, alternating between frenetic songs with intense, fluorescent lighting and very lo-fi songs with muted lighting and video projections. The band seemed to cast a spell on the crowd; we were mesmerized, entranced by the energy of the music. Thom Yorke told the audience, "We love you too," at one point, in response to the cheering of the crowd. And they showed their love to us, too, prolonging and heightening the show and the magic with two encore sets for us.

And that is the kind of magic I live for.

Cultural Implications of a Mid-20's NYC Life

What does it mean - if anything - to be in my mid-20's and living in NYC?? To partake of many of the cultural events and institutions of the city? Does that classify me as hipster, does it mean I am more inclined to have a certain affinity for culture, money, hustle-and-bustle, nightlife, challenge? Yes, I have chosen to live in this urban jungle come playground, to root myself here over the past five years and develop friendships and networks, despite my lack of economic security over the years.

Yet again, for the umpteenth time, I am without a full-time job and will, at the end of the month, again be without health insurance. I plan on continuing to live here for some time, despite my rekindled appreciation for smaller, mellower cities, and despite the glaring state of our economic situation that is predicted to decline far more before it improves. What do these decisions say about what kind of person I am? My actions may suggest nothing less than an addiction perhaps, a love-hate relationship I have grown dependent on, to the hectic anything-is-possible vibe of NYC.

A recent article pointed out to me by a friend in Adbusters really sparked my inner-dialog about this relationship between culture and identity. Entitled "Hipster: The Dead End of Western Civilization," the piece is a scathing account of how youth culture has been commercialized, commodified and stripped of any meaning or cultural optimism. The article claims that the hipster image is so bleak at its core that no one will admit to actually being one (a phenomenon which I have acutely observed myself) and yet everyone has a similar white-washed image and even lifestyle, from the American Apparel look to the drinking of cheap beer and - yes - blogging.

To say that every remotely hipster generality is necessarily destructive and devoid of meaning is an oversimplification and stereotype that fails to acknowledge the diversity of this "hipster" culture and the varying lifestyles, political bents, education and general level of consciousness of the people who may be categorized as hipsters. As one commenter pointed out, the label of hipster, first and foremost, is about image; yes, it may be affiliated with an interest/involvement in the arts and some level of has sparked a serious commotion and even controversy among the readers, and a glaring question is whether the writer is himself a so-called hipster, which seems to be the case. While I think the article is too inflammatory and reductive, it does give a thoughtful critical analysis of a certain youth culture that while purportedly not mainstream, also feeds into and depends on mass media, cultural appropriation and homogenization. And I will realize and admit that I am not excluded from these trends, yet while remaining conscious that culture and counter-culture are inextricablysocio-political consciousness, and it may have influenced a certain sector of society to look infuriatingly similar, but to believe that anyone who can be labeled hipster is devoid of a meaningful ethos is downright wrong and defeatist.

So I will admit that I have some qualities that may be considered hipster: I live in Williamsburg, I will drink cheap beer from time to time, I blog, I see a lot of live music shows, I even - yes - dress in a sort of hipster fashion much of the time. This doesn't mean I am a brainwashed zombie who desperately feels the need to fit in. I love fashion, and I don't feel constrained to fit or follow a certain image. Likewise, I love dancing and am not afraid to let loose on the dance floor. I blog to hone my writing skills and impart my cultural reflections; sure, it may be a hipster quality, but it's also me. I was hardly a hipster when I was in elementary school, yet my habits were similar: I drew and wrote constantly, I was always dancing and singing at home, and I loved to play outdoors. I was much more shy and more of a loner then, and I didn't drink, but I was always artsy and free-spirited. I think I still remain too free-spirited to really be a hipster, but I do not agree that the label necessarily merits such scathing.

My Bay Area Excursion

Last week, I flew to San Francisco for a week in northern California. The trip revolved primarily around family: the primary motivating factor for it was a family reunion on behalf of my grandmother, who will be turning 80 this September. My aunt, who lives in Berkeley with her husband and two young boys, hosted much of the family and events at her place. Others stayed in a hotel, while my immediate family and I stayed in another house we rented for the week. Besides, the cozy, family-oriented vibe of the week, the trip included a lot of other highlights: regular immersions in my aunt's jacuzzi, very tranquil strolls around Berkeley and Oakland, a night out at Bay Wolf restaurant in Oakland and an after-dinner treat to the spa, hikes around Tilden Park, and a day trip around San Francisco. Overall, the week away was memorable for its mellowness, the beauty of the area, and having lots of family and chow-down time.

The big birthday bash dinner with the extended family (including lots of children!) was held at the UC Berkeley Faculty Club. The venue, a quiet casual semi-private suite of rooms, was a short walk within the campus and featured access to sprawling lawns (the primary attraction for the kids). After much play, drink, food, picture-taking and posing, the whirlwind feature event of our family weekend came to an end. The rest of the weekend included much of the same: eating, merry-making, picture-taking and -posing, and lots of catch up with the family.

Having just gone off in succession this past month to smaller cities - Chicago, and the Bay Area - I've promised myself that I must, if not yet move to a smaller, quainter city, visit such cities more often.