Pop Culture Never Dies

Putting aside the matter of whether or not I like today’s Top 40 sound — which skews heavily in favor of the right side of my pairings: feminine, glam, synth, etc. … — my question is: will it go on forever? Is today’s studio-centric hegemony a build-up to a hairpin turn toward performance-driven, sweaty musicianship — a playing out of history’s many earlier revolutions in mainstream sound — or … with apologies to Fukuyama, [is this] the end of music?

The above is a meditation on pop culture that segues into the adolescent’s phenomenon of psyche that you felt once too and maybe forgot.

Pop culture never dies — at least not as long as there is a medium of mass transmission. Back in the day, a friend’s mom told us that as you get older, you lose touch with popular culture until your own kids start following it, which is when you once again become interested in it.

Now, though, popular culture is fragmented. Naturally so, as Anglophone countries are a mess of alien cultures, which necessitates that the industry’s mass-distribution products cater to a watered-down lowest common denominator of sophistication and authenticity. People naturally coalesce around their own and gravitate to purer expressions of their temperament. And now, a new development makes the centralized entertainment industry less relevant and helps with niche-formation: the internet-driven dispersal of talent. One word: YouTubers.

There are several who are popular with White kids. The big names on that scene have hundreds of thousands of subscribers, millions of daily views, upper-bracket incomes from their channels. Collins Key is one such act. It’s two young California brothers, Collins and his younger bro Devan. Cool looking dudes, excellent positive energy, astounding creativity.

Their show is profanity-free and makes absolutely zero references to politics or culture-war stuff. What their act is, is hyper-energy slapstick, very often involving insanity with food. Representative episodes:

Devan’s wisdom teeth. If you or your friends have biological brothers, then you understand the bond. Beat each other up in childhood, have each other’s back for life. The younger brother Devan is under the influence of narcotics, having just come down off dental surgery. Funny as always, but you also see the fraternal bond.

Collins, who is recording this episode, gets on camera after the 11-minute mark… that’s when the yodeling starts. Now you’ve seen everything.


The messy twins telepathy challenge. (See the video below). The Merrell Twins are regular guests on Collins’ show. Pretty girls, and here they are mercilessly abused by Collins good and proper, and loving every moment of it. If I hadn’t mentioned it yet, the young man is a natural alpha and likable.

In that episode, the twin girls blurt out the name of their favorite band: Five Seconds Of Summer. Never heard of them, so I looked them up; “She Looks So Perfect” is one of their older songs. It’s from five years ago. It’s not a new style for a new generation; it sounds to me like classic Taylor Swift with its youthful energy and soft verse / hard chorus pattern that comes from grunge, which in turn is borrowed from 1980s alternative Rock.

The song’s video shows people having fun and, you know, stripping down to their underwear. I’m sure that’s a metaphor for being honest with each other, like those dreams everyone has about being naked. The aesthetic is California (mostly) blond. What’s not to like in seeing nothing but kin faces? The video does show diversity: age, body type, socioeconomic status — a full social ecosystem. What you ask — what about the you-know-what-I-mean Diversity? I know not of what you speak. All the diversity that needs be shown is right there in that music video.

Back to “The Messy Twins Telepathy Challenge.” It’ll put a huge smile on your face:

Idle Thoughts On Music In The Public Space

Pop music is not high art. It is not Classical virtuosos, eclectic palettes for refined tastes, or subculture signaling. Popular music is mass-market recordings that have broad appeal, speak to the emotions of young people, and are occasionally sublime. They amplify a mood and — this being pop music’s tautologically defining quality — they are played in the public space.

Every year is The Current Year

In the current year, you ask yourself: am I too old to get contemporary pop music? After some thought, my answer is: irrelevant question, if you aren’t locked in solipsism.

Every era has its cultural artifacts, as well as its classics. Let’s use 1983 as an example. I was watching MTV and Quiet Riot’s “Come On Feel The Noise” came on. Anyone remember that song? My parents didn’t like it: “Where is the vocal talent, good lyrics and melody?” I learned later that as members of the Silent generation, they didn’t care much for the Rolling Stones back in their day either, but liked Elvis, Paul Anka and Dean Martin. However, also in ’83, we were doing a jigsaw puzzle together as my Pyromania tape played in the background. “Foolin” was playing and mom said: “That’s a really good song.”

She recognized a classic, and she was right. If you are perceptive, you’ll feel in its verses a dream-realm wonder similar to that in “Für Elise.” The point is, that Quiet Riot was an artifact of its time and as such, not only was it empty noise to older people, but it has also since been forgotten by its contemporary audience — early-teens like I was then. Yet every era also has its timeless songs. So, are there any recently released greats? Honest question.

Amplifying the mood

I experienced two contrasting musical scenes at different venues. In the morning, we went with friends to a chic breakfast place where the songs were either soft rock originals or excellent but unfamiliar to me covers. I heard “Nothing Compares 2 U” (cover), “I Wanna Know What Love Is” (original), “Against All Odds” (cover) and similar. It was one of those days when you’re grateful to be alive.

Later that day, we went to an outdoor ice skating rink where the music was current Billboard Top 40, I guess. Same crap that’s played at the gym. The vocalists sounded black but can you even reliably tell that’s the case, if you’re unable to identify Justin Timberlake’s voice? The music lacked the aggressiveness of Hip-Hop or the caterwaul of R&B, but one song after another sounded alike: pussy-begging in a flat high-register voice, modulated with Auto-Tune.

As the atmosphere at the ice rink went, everyone was having fun but the music was like a nearby buzzing electrical transformer: nobody paid attention to it. Hey, as a point of comparison — in 1983 when the right song at the roller-skate center came on, the girls squealed and jostled out onto the floor. No girls were squealing at the 2018 ice rink.

Light up the White Energy, it occurred to me. Diversity was minimal, the ice rink was bright with the faces of healthy teenagers. The girleens would have come alive to Avril Lavigne’s I’m With You. (Love that “yeah-yeah-yeah? yeah-yeah?” thingy she does). I swear, I’d use a more current example if I knew of one.

“Keep it tasteful for now.”

A word on black music. For reasons that are too esoteric to get into, I once passed through a town in northwestern Tennessee, humming Dwight Yoakam’s “Thousand Miles From Nowhere” as I drove. This was midnight, 1995. With a cigarette in my hand I searched for radio stations, hoping to get lucky and catch Bob Seger’s “Turn the Page” but instead, found a vintage Blues song. I left it on because the ghost of Nathan Bedford Forrest, who still watches over his folk in that little town, listened with me and because that recording, which lasted as long as the night, was a different kind of Clair de lune.

Blacks created enjoyable songs when appropriating European forms: Scots-Irish ballads became reinterpreted as Blues, marching bands inspired Jazz, church hymns were Africanized into Gospel. They had to be told to perform to White tastes, though. Indubitably, a dawn-of-rock-‘n-roll recording studio (((boss))) would tell his wild troubadours: “This ain’t a bonobo orgy, boys. Keep it tasteful for now. We’ll let you grind in a couple of decades.”

I like some black pop songs. For example, and let’s skip Michael Jackson as he’s complicated, I enjoy their Disco era stuff. Even if you don’t dance, you’ll move to Boney M’s Daddy Cool when the keyboard kicks in. The video for Kool & The Gang’s Cherish shows blacks at their best and the song is nice. Prince’s “Purple Rain” is a great song.

A life’s arc or cycles?

There are two ways of thinking about popular music. One, is that its golden age went from roughly 1975 to 1995, birthed in the Dionysian supernova of the Seventies, then through the Apollonian glam of Eighties’ pop and heavy metal, terminating with the Dionysian swan song of early 1990s’ Use Your Illusion and Grunge.

Or, popular music goes through an endless cycle of yin and yang, with each generation expressing its collective pathos in its own way. As U2’s Bono put it a couple of weeks ago:

I think music has gotten very girly. And there are some good things about that, but hip-hop is the only place for young male anger at the moment – and that’s not good. When I was 16, I had a lot of anger in me. You need to find a place for it and for guitars, whether it is with a drum machine – I don’t care. The moment something becomes preserved, it is fucking over. You might as well put it in formaldehyde. In the end, what is rock & roll? Rage is at the heart of it. Some great rock & roll tends to have that, which is why The Who were such a great band. Or Pearl Jam. Eddie has that rage… It will return.

Pearl Jam’s 1992 performance of “Black” at the PinkPop festival, specifically the song’s heart-ripping outro, is the howl of our generation. Millennials listened to Insane Clown Posse and Eminem in their formative years. Generation Zyklon will speak for itself.

White Energy

Say No To Entropy

Speaking of bravery, Marvel comics is finding their sales waaaaay down after a recent dip into “diversity” waters. Could it be because blacks, Muslim women, etc. just aren’t that heroic? Would they storm the beach under fire at Normandy or brave their way back into the Twin Towers to look for the injured while the fire still raged? The black teens in Florida last week didn’t even lift a finger to call 911 while the mentally challenged black man flailed in the pond and died. — Camlost

The SJW delusion is that by taking over good real estate, they will keep harnessing its value to their purposes. They don’t understand that by ruining good real estate, they kill its original value.  The result: nobody watches the new Dr. Who. (This is similar to how when women take over a profession, its value in terms of social status and earning power collapses).

The Millennial Woes podcasts below is good, and is related to the above. It’s about the new female Dr. Who. He brings up the “reasonable” liberal argument: why not? After all, the show’s main character has no reason to not reincarnate as, say, a woman, or black, or Chinese. He follows with an aside remark that grabbed my attention: “That’s entropy.”

Yes, as I’ll add: the entropy-mentality of liberalism that would have everything in the world just amalgamate through Brownian motion. A reflection of the r-selected mentality: cows grazing, rabbits munching on grass. No agency, no control, no order, no will, no transcendence of mindless random forces of whatever breeze blows through.

So Millennial Woes eviscerates the liberal argument by first establishing that Dr. Who has traditionally been an icon for slightly-misfit boys, a character they related to growing up in ways that they wouldn’t relate to in his female form. He then suggests that the producers’ ultimate goal is to make him black, with a woman being a moderate step in that direction. The goal is to move on to James Bond, and ultimately to tar-brush (my term, not his) all iconic European characters.

He goes on to explain that Dr. Who’s fan-base tends to be liberal, so they struggle in formulating their objections to a female character. They make content-free points such as: “I like the move toward diversity but they are doing it for political reasons, they are going about it all wrong” — like what does that even mean? How would going about it “the right way” look?

So finally, Millennial Woes masterfully delivers the identitarian argument we are all familiar with here: Dr. Who is an English cultural icon, he has always been British (there was one or two Scottish actors) — and that is the reason to keep him a British man — and yes, that also means White.

And as I would add, make a K-selected stand: he is ours, you can’t have him. Say No to entropy.

Good podcast; there is a lot more there: