Pitchfork's Pitch

Today, I was looking over the top 200 albums of the decade, as voted by the editors of Pitchfork Media, the online commentary on the state of contemporary music. Pitchfork might well be thought of as fulfilling a role corresponding to that filled by Rolling Stone in its early days, namely being cutting edge enough to be liked by those of "counter-culture" inclinations (more on this later) but of wide enough distribution to bring these same bands from the fringe to the limelight, as well as being self-concerned enough to develop a fairly consistent image.

In general, I like Pitchfork. Its reviews can tend towards hyperbole, both in laud and disdain, but it does some cool things, and I hardly think it's a bad thing that Fleet Foxes have them to thank for being known well beyond Seattle. But the past month or so has turned me sour towards them as regards the latter part of the last paragraph, namely in terms of their need for instant canonization. There are a few odd things about their system. Firstly, they choose some of the oddest candidates, particularly in their list of the top 500 songs of the decade, not really seeming in touch with the rest of the world so much as with their own presuppositions. Secondly, even they fall prey to the trap of all forms of canonization (I've yet encountered, anyway,) namely thinking (apparent) influence to be interchangable with value. This has bothered me a lot (more so in music, but literature and film too) in the past few years, mainly because I was one of those people who preferred old music because it was more important. The opposite is equally probelematic, as turning your back on the past and thinking we've reached some heretofore unrparalleled height in anything is arrogant.

It raises interesting questions though. Regardless of their view now, what will the new Pitchfork stand-in think of this list in ten, twenty, thirty years? Or, more interesting to me, what philosophical trends will our kids disband as bloated bogus? Particularly in thinking about the various lives I consider for my future, whether that of the academic, writer, teacher, pastor and/or artist, one is essentially laying him/herself on the chopping block for the next round to counterexamine. What things that seem so cohesive and remedial now will be dogmatic and oppressive soon? And when they do, how will I respond?

This relates to something endemic of a broader tendency I found in an article released by Adbusters on the Hipster phenomenon (deemed by them "The Dead End of Western Civilization,"). I think of these two together because (if not merely for the primal hipster/pitchfork association,) the same desire for instant canonization seems tied to that of excessive global connectiveness. In short, the article argues that, in contrast to the various trans-national youth/student movements of the last sixty years, that of the hipster is self-conscious and inbred to the point of utter meaninglessness and self-destruction (unlike hippies, punks, mods/rockers, or grunge(rs?), all of whom defined themselves boldly and fought for their right to party, as it were, hipsters speak with disdain. I haven't read the whole article, but a part that felt of particular relevance was that concerning the mode of communication of this generation, i.e. blogs and forums, by which persons discover the newest video/scandal/source of irony and send it to all their friends, neither claiming nor denying credit.

So as to bypass any comments of the sort that say "So Nate is basically saying, 'I'm not a hipster?' Isn't that what all the hipsters say?" (quoted nigh directly from a response to the aforementioned article,) I can't debt that I have a lot of the fashionable factors, such as a fixed-gear bicycle, a love for foreign films, an impractical course of undergraduate study, and a distaste for analytic philosophy. I don't know if I'm a hipster; I'll just say that I hope I'm not, at least in the terminology described in the article. (Parenthetically, neither is Adbusters, as their persistantly legitimate activism, for all its occasional ridiculousness, is light years away from the apathy that characterizes the pseudo-activism of many in our generation.) I hope that my desire for these things stems not from a desire to mimic the "always-already" canon but rather from a sincere enoyment (or as nearly so as possible.) It reminds me of Mr. Layton, my high school English teacher (almost undoubtedly the reason I'm studying literature now,) who taught things not for their so-called lasting literary value but rather for their relevance to his students' lives, while never degrading into show-and-tell literary discussion. I hope that if I teach, I can manage that; I guess that's the response to shifting climates of thought and preference I hope for.

Thinking about instantly gratified comunication touched home for one of the many reasons I got rid of facebook that I had been thinking about anyway. Namely, I realize that in quitting facebook, I miss people more. But more specifically, I miss them as people, something which is not impossible on facebook, but (for me at least) more difficult. We make ourselves ripe for essentialization on facebook (blogs too, I know...) and think less about each other than the internet medium between us that doesn't really exist. Once again, thinking about the fact that physical limits are a good thing (thanks Nathan.)

I have more thoughts about the whole "us having bodies" thing but I'll save that for later, as well as more on the issues of "newest scandal" and mimicry, for they relate to something I'm reading (I'm looking at you Ben Olsen.)