Being part of the internet age where everything is everywhere and then it disappears in a cloudy frenzy of cubicle-encased hatred, most things seem awesome as fuck at some point and then will suddenly be the lamest thing you have ever seen. The turn is incredible. It used to be you had to wait months for something like this to happen, until you read a Spin article by some jackass hyping up something that you had previously thought was the most amazing shit ever, and suddenly you realized that what you thought was this amazing thing was kinda just blind luck achieved by questionable individuals. And on top of that, worldwide, a bunch of assholes who you would rather pound with a ball peen hammer in the skull are loving on that same shit, thus your peers. Before the internet, that was the incubation period of the natural contrarian.
Now though, things can take the swing far more quickly. For me, a few years back, hearing about Gogol Bordello playing a tea house with some anarcho-bullshit show full of people and energy, it was a good sounding thing. And when I stole their music from inside the interwebs, some of it was great, some of it was predictable. Mostly, that pseudo-European crazy vibe was nice to me, as I’ve become really fascinated with American whiteys who have a sense of their specific cultural heritage, as opposed to the retarded overall WE ARE WHITE THEREFORE BETTER generic heritage that most southern whites are relegated to. (Perhaps I should start an ethnically prejudiced southern white organization that is disgusted at how southern whites have intermixed and wants us all to segregate back to our original European tribal entities – bring ethnic cleansing philosophy to America.) This comes up often as I try to explain to my children what they have the most of inside of them. I mean, my maternal grandfather was the American-born child of Polish immigrants, and my maternal grandmother was the American-born child of Norwegian immigrants. Genetically, this explains why I am stupid and crazy, which also drives home the point of how knowing your cultural heritage can more properly prepare you to be who you truly are. All my life I have been conflicted with being so stupid and so crazy, trying to assimilate into status quo lifestyles, be responsible, when my true deep down DNA essence wants to grow my hair long, get drunk, and wreck straight into a guardrail at 3 am on a Thursday morning, but survive, and turn it into a funny story about how I ran off down a logging trail on foot with one fractured legbone so I didn’t get my fourth DUI and have to go to jail for 6 months. It’s my natural inclination.
Of course, all this, combined with my obsessive compulsiveness, is probably why I’ll be one of those creepy ass old dudes looking up family history at strange record keeping enclaves in Pennsylvania or Utah, usually near where there’s a religious movement with roots going back to the Old World that want to maintain proper records like that. (In fact, if I’m going to start a southern whites segregate amongst your different whitenesses organization, I should also start up a mulatto awareness record keeping bureaucracy privately funded, hopefully somewhere in northwest Georgia near the North Carolina border. Because if those places are funded internally, and usually associated with religious movements, there’s no real religious movement attached to the blessed melting pot destruction of white and black that’s come on since hip hop music, so we need to get the ball rolling now. They tried to start a church of hip hop, but those dudes can’t even get enough money to keep Afrika Bambaataa’s old housing project from being turned into a condo like the rest of NYC.)
Anyways, I really got into Gogol Bordello for a spell. But then I started to notice their in-real-life references cross from retarded hipster types to more sterile Whole Foods shopper types. This was disconcerting. As goofy as the hipster is, seeing some dude in a fedora and black-framed glasses driving a ’75 Impala down the street blaring Gogol Bordello is still less unnerving – to me at least – than seeing a soccer mom taking her daughter to ballet in a Toyota Prius quietly pumping Gogol Bordello. So as that type of visual and personal conversational chatter started to pick up, my contrarian radar started blipping.
After that, I got some movie about the Eugene Hutz dude – a documentary done by a girl who obviously just wanted to be Eugene’s girlfriend – going through Gypsy country in east Europe. It was so fucking painful to watch, and I wavered from feeling like smashing that dude in the fucking mustachebones with an orange milk crate, to feeling sorry for holmes for being such an errant little sheep soul in this big confusing modern world. It is that second feeling that still overtakes me from time to time, that no matter our internet age judgments, we are all basically uncool as fuck, and errant souls stumbling across the surface of a far too technologized planet, trying to find some people to sit on a long couch in an alley with and feel a part of something. Times like that is when “Sun is On My Side” would be warmly embraced while I ride down the road in my shitty truck, always pulling to the left, chewing up tire tread, window down, waiting for salvation.
And of course my contrarian nature will kick in, even with myself. And being this is the internet, no matter my true feelings, I have to act like I could only under the right circumstances like a newer Gogol Bordello song, because lolcatz youtube ofwgtka amirite?
STEAL "Sun Is On My Side"
NEXT UP: Homeless rap – the best homeless music made ever since hobos stopped making guitars out of scrap construction material!
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