MGMT are hipsters and “Oracular Spectacular” is hipster art. That debut record from 2007, aside from being sonically magnificent at times, also happens to be a declarative generational statement in the most poignant sense. Unfortunately — as the late David Foster Wallace might lament, and as I lament now — “Oracular Spectacular” as an artistic achievement is “dead on the page.”
By this decade the term “hipster” is woollier than ever. In one sense, we know the word refers to a certain mold of mass-consumer, a generically “alternative” meta-identity invented by market forces seeking to cash in on “underground” trends.
Retail outlets like Urban Outfitters mass-produce so-called, hipster chic as a mainstream fashion. Similarly, major labels mass-produce “indie” records as a popular music.
With such commodifying forces in mind, we might define “hipster chic” as the unwelcome appropriation of various subcultural reference points. Alarmingly, this process decontextualizes such references from their original sources, reducing once-substantive fringe style-choices into vapid fashion trends.
The cultural weight of, say, the keffiyeh scarf, originally worn by activists to demonstrate political solidarity with the Palestinian nation, is eviscerated in its seizure by mass-hipsters. Almost all hipster accessories follow a similar path.
So what is hipster art? Critic Rob Horning, in an article for the webzine “PopMatters,” speculates that it’s “the embodiment of postmodernism as a spent force, revealing what happens when pastiche and irony exhaust themselves as aesthetics.”
In short, hipster art is pseudo-art — unoriginal, counterfeit, impotent. A configuration of fashionable influences-as-accessories for the purpose of achieving a posture of perceived cool.
Irony-run-amok, that singular value of the hipster sensibility, is enacted as a defense mechanism against criticism and a safeguard against failure. It’s the “if I don’t play I can’t lose” approach. Problem is, good art often comes from a daring willingness to “lose,” and a core sense of responsibility to “play.”
Poor MGMT. If anything, “Oracular” illustrates that they’re self-aware on some level about all this. Consider the lead track “Time to Pretend,” which might be taken as the album’s mission statement. During the verses, the tongue-in-cheek lyrics portray a string of fantastical rock star clichés. But the tone suddenly shifts at the chorus line “we’re fated to pretend,” a suddenly sober realization/resignation that somewhat recasts the verses.
Indeed, though they’d never admit to it (as a rule “Oracular” hides behind an ironic guise) you get the sense that MGMT are secretly earnest about the themes they perform, as if their well-crafted music was at times so sublime that they couldn’t help but drift toward moments of directness and sincerity, before suddenly shrugging it off with a wink at the last second.
If the sentiments behind the phrase “fated to pretend” were to be taken seriously, MGMT don’t know how to stop themselves from spinning off into their own self-made delusions.
“Oracular” is highly commendable in some respects. The first half of the album is near-perfectly executed from a technical standpoint (production, pacing, instrumentation, catchiness, etc). “Electric Feel” is one of the most infectious dance songs I’ve ever heard. “Time to Pretend” and “Kids” are almost as memorable. A visceral fun pervades the music. It would be foolish and false to dispute the value in all that.
Still, good fun only goes so far. If hipster art is pseudo-art, then we might think of hipsters as pseudo-individuals. And in many ways we are a generation of pseudo-individuals.
As the first group of people in history to be raised on the Internet, it’s impossible to deny that we lead much of our lives before a computer screen, plugged into an oxymoronic “virtual reality.” We dehumanize many of our most important personal encounters; some of our online “friends” we’ve never actually met.
This dissociation has consequences. Like MGMT, many of us are victims of our own conscious or subconscious delusions, complacencies and indifferences. We don’t vote, so things get worse. We don’t protest, so things get worse. We attend college to party or join a frat and don’t bother to educate ourselves. Or we spend hours in a dorm room cultivating a pretend life in “World of Warcraft.”
That’s what makes “Oracular Spectacular” such a stunning reflection of the zeitgeist. No wonder it’s sold so many copies.
