There was a time when college rock was characterized as alternative music spun by bearded indiekid deejays at all hours of the night. Records made in basements showed off an ever-present buzz, the hum of the tape and singers who growled about society through clenched teeth. Their audience knew — and more importantly, felt — exactly what they were talking about.
Today’s college rock, much like today’s college climate, however, is much different. What was once all flannel and hair has now evolved into something much more ... sweater vest-y. As more and more Americans have access to higher education and college students make up a larger part of the population than they ever have before, the culture that was once elite has merged into the mainstream. And sure, college kids with guitars is a premise we can all relate to, but college rock is moving into an entirely new league — namely, the Ivy League.
Ivy-educated rockers aren’t anything new — just ask Weezer frontman Rivers Cuomo, a recent Harvard graduate. Continuing an education he began prior to the success of Weezer, Cuomo not only proved himself one of the godfathers of emo, he also inadvertently fronted a trend that would fully come into fruition a decade later. And that trend is that geek is chic.
Cuomo is probably almost single-handledly responsible for the return of the thick-rimmed Buddy Holly glasses. His band suddenly made it cool to jam out on stage in wingtipped shoes and plaid shirts under V-neck sweaters. And if that didn’t expose Weezer as nerds, their music certainly did. An entire album inspired by and littered with references to “Madame Butterfly” followed up by another album whose title had fans running to the thesaurus, “Maladroit,” betrayed the band’s tendency toward intellect.
And surprisingly, the whole thing worked. We loved Weezer for their embracing sheer nerdiness. We may have seen one of them getting beaten up in the halls, and none of them would deny it. Sure he may have been famous, but even seven records into his career, Cuomo probably still wouldn’t identify as “cool.” In fact, his image is decidedly uncool, and we love his acceptance of it. There was something charming about the sincerity of it all, and — even though not all of us wanted to admit it — there’s a part of anyone that can relate to feeling uncool.
The Ivy bands of today may be decided in their image, but they’re undecided on what all of these things might mean. I’m looking at you, Vampire Weekend.
Hailed by hipsters and indie kids alike as Ivy League rocker gods in Polo shirts, the four Columbia graduates formed in 2006, graduated in 2007 and were on the road with Death Cab for Cutie by 2008 — before they even released their first record.
Now, of course, there’s nothing wrong with some hard-earned success (and there’s no doubt that these guys know their music), but there is something a little averting about a band that sells an elitist lifestyle as much as or more than they sell an art.
There’s just something a little inherently self-deprecating about worshipping that kind of band. As higher education becomes more common, the college undergraduate degree is becoming less valuable — a frustration that’s leaking into our music. Our education is starting to feel futile, and instead of examining the system that created these conditions we focus on what we have been taught is most important: moving up. And not moving up in an empowering George Jefferson hard-work-and-success manner (the original model of the American dream), but moving up in a way that’s, well, pretentious.
In following Vampire Weekend’s lead and borrowing the Ivy League style and lifestyle, we are moving farther into elitism and away from the art of it all. Music should reflect who we are: disillusioned college students. Instead, we are appropriating the Ivy League lifestyle, which is, in turn, appropriating bits and pieces of cultures that it feels entitled to. Vampire Weekend found themselves the darlings of indie critics who praised them for their original incorporation of African drum beats into their music. But you know who else uses African drum beats? Africans. It’s not that original. And besides, Paul Simon already covered that base in his 1986 album, “Graceland.”
So instead of looking for guidance from who and what we are told is the best and chasing after the upper echelons of societal structure while abandoning the problems at hand, perhaps we should just ... face them. Of course, it’s always easier to work, work, work toward upward mobility to launch oneself into success than it is to recognize and acknowledge that something is inherently wrong with institutions we’re already putting tons of money into. But the solution isn’t just up and leaving so that it can be someone else’s problem, it’s to re-examine what’s already wrong and speak up about it.
I’m not saying that everyone and anyone who is into Vampire Weekend is a pretentious poser. I’m not even saying that the implications of liking them are so glaringly obvious that it points to ignorance. In fact, I’m not even really bashing Vampire Weekend themselves. The problem is the environment that created such a need for us to feel like we always need to be better, and that better is defined by what is most elite.
So no, I don’t suppose I’ll make a pun about Vampire Weekend sucking, nor will I suggest any sort of boycott on sweater vests. Listening to prep-rock won’t kill anyone, I promise, but before you spin that vinyl on your vintage record player, stop and think for a second about why it is that Ivy is so far out of our league.
You can reach this columnist at kcasino@theeagleonline.com.