Something for the Weakened

Some sort of wandering grumble I guess, though it is sort of optimistic in places, but has an utterly shite title

Sunday, September 16th, 2007 by

Yesterday I was told that a friend of a friend was hosting a nineties theme night. This I can vaguely understand – it being well over half a decade since whichever turn of the millenium you subscribe to, nostalgia for a vaguely distant time is sort of understandable. It’s something I try to avoid in anything except in a properly archived fashion, but I shall allow others to participate with only the smallest amounts of bile expressed from my healthy man boobs. It did set me wondering about what people could possibly do in another ten years time. The thing is that as far as I can see the past seven and a half years have been lacking in any real individual identity. More to the point, they have seen too large an expansion in the identity of individuals that there have been far fewer explosions in collective movements. The absence of any era defining new musical movement in getting on for twenty years, for example, hasn’t led to an absence of good music, but it has led to the sludgy rehashings that pass for the more innovative moments in pop these days. Screw together some sixties psych, a couple of eighties synth chords, slap on some sort of house derived beat and perform with a punk attitude and watch as you sail to the top of whatever the hit parade has become in this day and age (what a lot of ‘and’s. I’ll have to watch that). Maybe it’s just my getting old and not really knowing what the kids are up to now, though I think that might in some way be down to there being more things for them to get up to than my old bones can comprehend anymore. So, do the early 2000s (I refuse to use the ‘N’ word) have an identity at all? I guess they probably do – I seem to recall being certain that there was no ‘look’ to the nineties, though I’ve rethought that after seeing too many endless repeats of Friends. Without the hindsight it’s hard to see the differences, plus half of my wardrobe’s almost a decade old, so my notice of any is infiniteisimal. And as we’re approaching the point where a new musical movement should be shifting into gear (‘67, ‘77, ‘87 – I’ve been through all this before, weren’t you paying attention?), it’s heartening to know that most of the kids are off their tits on MDMA. Well, it is to me anyway.

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