Filed under: Music
This year’s freshmen need help. Serious pop culture extraction. They are typicals at DR. You don’t want to be a typpie here. “Typpie” is brand-name Ralph Lauren Polos, Crocs (I don’t get them), A&F, A&E, Hollister, Vera Bradley, and Q94. While this doesn’t sound bad—Hollister has good deals sometimes—you don’t want to be the typpie here, on account of I’m pretty sure it’s been this way since the 50s, and I’m pretty sure it will always be this way. A certain Z: the male junior poster child of DR. B: the female junior poster child of DR. I can name these people off the top of my head. It’s disgusting. Every typpie wishes they were Z or B in a past life (although that’s not reeeally possible). And everyone else couldn’t care less. Yes, Z is hot and B is gorgeous (kinda). But do I want to date him and be her? No. I want to do my own thing.
The freshmen have no hope yet. And that’s because I have to observe them until I’ve decided I can help them. Let me say first that I’m the sole indie kid in band. How this happened, I don’t know. Before, when I was a sad emo lass, I listened to, you know, those emo bands that some people have heard of but most don’t listen to. And now, I’ve sort of spiraled out of control for a DR student. You know the type. I’m not radical. Like everyone else in this 21st century world, I listen to The Postal Service and Death Cab for Cutie. And I adore Bright Eyes and Rilo Kiley and Jenny Lewis, and The Arcade Fire. I like Stars and I like Tilly and the Wall, and I like The Unicorns and The Elected. At DR, you can just stop at Bright Eyes; they haven’t heard of the rest, and they only like Ben Gibbard’s bands because they think they make them look smarter and more sensitive. They don’t know that Jenny Lewis is from Rilo Kiley; much less that Blake Sennett from The Elected is from RK too. And they think Conor Oberst is dreadfully pathetic. That’s how sad it all is. But when you get to really weird bands like Deerhoof and The Casual Dots (I know what you’re thinking…both on KRS), you can just stop and pack your ass back into yo mother’s womb. This is the
West SYEEEDDE. Which, everyone here is white, and probably at least an inkling racist, so…? I don’t know what that means.
A plan is brewing. Although I know this sounds sad, I plan to get an indie freshman posse. I want them to survive DR and I don’t want them to get eaten up by the serious PacMan of popness. This is not to say, of course, that I intend to have them as my “biffffs.” Ha—psych. I have other friends and I have better things to do. But this is the future of our children we’re talking about. And I’m willing to do anything to save it. I sound like a politician.
So basically, all I can do now is observe and pick out the weak links—the ones searching for something bigger in the world of the same car and the same outfit, hair straightener, and siblings. I know there are some of those kids. I really hope that we get some Moody kids. They would be the best targets for such advertisements. Hey, I was looking for the same thing as a freshman. I just had no guide until sophomore year, and my guide was a grade younger than me and had infinitely more cool and patience. My turn to be a guide.
Once I’ve found a good following (two or three—five tops—is all I can hope for; I wouldn’t want too many), I can take the next move: the music. First, though, I need to make sure this is what they want: the same as what I’ve got. Because I can give it to them. It won’t be exactly the same feeling or vibe or style, but it’ll be in the ballpark. I can’t make them me. Once this is confirmed somehow, I will make them want it. They will lust after it. The music, preferably, considering that I’d rather not date someone that young ever again. This part will be easy. Maybe a little bit of acting. Play the music loudly. Relax. Look happy. Get them into it. Make them listen to it. Not against their will. Let them listen to a thirty-second clip, then snatch it back. Make them yearn for more. Do some research. If they really want it, they’ll go after it on their own.
You know that you can’t be an indie kid wearing Michael Jordan shoes and yellow basketball shorts with a humongous wigger light purple nonmatching tee shirt. Especially if you’re fat. In my opinion, the coolest indie kids are the black ones. They are breaking stereotypes. They’re chouette. It’s not breaking a stereotype, though, for a white person to be a wigger. Everyone’s a wigger nowadays. Just thought I’d throw that in here. Well, after I’ve converted them to the music, the last step I can help them with is the style. And all I can do about that is bringing in the copies of AP and Paste and showing them the pictures they need to see. And then they can complete themselves from there.
The last step, of course, is the mindset; you’re nothing without the mindset. But that’s something only time can bring.
To some, this probably sounds like an ultimate plan to conform conformists to something else. It probably sounds evil and selfish. I have, though, their best interests in mind, and they can turn back at any time. It’s just a shame to stick to the same routine for a whole lifetime and never broaden your horizons and at least see what’s out there. It’s an experience. And I know I would have thoroughly enjoyed it at that age, especially since no upperclassman ever reached out to me. All I hope to get out of this is lack of boredom and satisfaction at the fact that I’ve shared my joy with someone else. Maybe I won’t get either. Maybe I’ll get a friend or two. I don’t know. All I have to do now is just watch and wait. There will be periodical updates on my master plan, so always check back.
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