I listened to Vampire Weekend for the first time yesterday. I figured, “What the hell? I might as well know what these worthless shitbag kids are shelling out their e-money for. Maybe they’re not completely stupid. Maybe I’ve been missing out on the greatest thing since the Beatles…”

Not exactly, but they weren’t as bad as I imagined they could be. I expected some 5th generation used up emo, indie bullshit. It wasn’t that. I’ll give them some credit there. You know what it was? It was Paul Simon circa 1986. Exactly. Completely stolen. Granted, I only listened to one song, but what do you want from me? Am I supposed to sit through an entire album that’s a watered- down rip off of a huge gigantic bigger-than-life blockbuster hit less than 25 years old? It wasn’t even subtle. It was blatant. In fact, the song I heard was Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes. It had the same melody, the same chord progression, the same production, and all the same hooks in all the same places. The only thing it was missing was the poignancy of the lyrics.

And there it is folks. That’s what’s headlining at Bumbershoot and Coachella these days. That’s what’s selling out crowds of 50,000. That’s what’s making a million dollars. But most sadly, that’s what has cred.

Paul Simon is not nobody. He is a household name, and Graceland is undoubtedly his most famous work. It has sold more than 5 million copies, hit number three on the US charts and in the UK was number one. You Can Call Me Al, the undisputed hit song off the record, to this day gets extensive radio play on every Clearchannel soft rock radio station in the country. For christ’s sake you can hear the song while shopping for groceries.

But I guess it’s all new to these stupid kids who have their collective heads up their collective asses and who don’t seem to understand that anything existed before the year 2000. And why should they? They’ve got their iPhones and their BlackBerrys. If they want any information about anything at all it’s right there in their pocket. Why concern yourself with anything that doesn’t immediately affect you when you have access to everything instantly? I’d say I don’t blame them, but I’d be lying.

They are fucking retarded and they are setting themselves and all of us up for a nightmarish Orwellian future care of 1984; another reference none of them will get. It astounds me and breaks my heart when an obvious reference to something enormous floats past their blank and confused stares to dissipate into the air like so much smoke from a joint they aren’t puffing on.

Not too long ago I went to a “90s party.” I actually grew up in the 90s and remember what it was like. I could spend the next hour and quite a few pages describing the party culture of the 1990s, but instead I’ll tell you what it wasn’t like. That party. Those lame kids missed the point completely. They all put tremendous effort into their outfits, but the only people that hit the nail on the head were people in their 30s who had been there. Some of them raided their parents’ closets, and some went to Goodwill, but none of them got it. No one seemed to understand that the 90s were about being yourself, and not conforming which is the only thing these kids seem to know how to do. No one seemed to realize that the reason people looked the way that they did was because they were making a conscious effort to not look like everybody else. No one seemed to get that the 90s were what they were because the bottom line was integrity and everything else was somewhat of a moot point. But the thing that was the most obviously wrong with the party is that no one was smoking pot.

Sorry kids. Pot was a huge part of the 90s and to have a 90s party without a haze of marijuana smoke floating in the air is like having a barbecue without beer or meat.

To me that’s the saddest part of it all. There is more access to information than ever before, but its availability has had the converse effect. Instead of thirsting for knowledge, these kids dismiss it as useless baggage. Hell, they probably don’t even think about it even that much. The limit of their collective memory seems to be about 6 years max and they seem to be okay with it. Hell, if I was smart I’d remake OK Computer and sell it to them as a brand new thing for top dollar. It sure worked for Vampire Weekend.


One thought on “A Grumpy Old Man Complaining About Teenagers

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