I would like to preface this piece with a personal statement. I have, in the past, been described as cynical, critical, and unforgiving. All of which, has at times, proven to be true. But the Patchouli Nation has refused to die a quiet, much deserved death, and it is up to me to take arms against this particular sea of troubles.
During the heady days of my high school career, I could be found at the occasional Phish show. I was an avid taper, ignorant of most contemporary music but well versed in my collection of Grateful Dead tapes. Ask for the best Terrapin Station, and I would not hesitate to pull out my prize fourth generation San Bernadino Swing Auditorium. Perhaps it was simply the indoctrination of the boarding school experience. When a friend from across the hall got his hands on A Tribe Called Quest's "Low End Theory," a truly momentous and head-bopping treat of a hip hop album, I simply listened indifferently, ignorant of whole genres of music. Thinking only of Jerry.
Well, Jerry Garcia is dead, and yet those who purchase his inexhaustible vault of live CDs and revere the golden iconography of the '60s rock are legion. I group these folks under the auspices of the Patchouli Nation, a confederation of identity seeking dunces. The identity they seek superficially emulates that of the hippies of old, yet it lacks both the socio-political and the cultural impact of the original. Because Patchouli Nation is really no more than a style of dress, a choice of music, and a favoring of one drug over another. In fact, belonging to the Patchouli Nation is no more socially relevant than choosing McDonald's over Burger King, or Abercrombie and Fitch jeans over Levi's. It is simply another consumerist role one chooses under the guise of identity and idealogy.
Consider, for example, the mecca of meccas for the Burlington/Patchouli crowd, the summer Phish festivals held in Northern Maine. Sure, the music is fun. Sure, the drugs are good and plentiful. But is there anything more socially relevant about the concert than that? I can't tell you the number of articles I have read where some dunderhead goes on ad nauseam about how its really about community, everybody coming together from all over and forming a family. Sure. A lot of white kids from various colleges across the Northeast and other assorted Phish fans does not Woodstock make. Those miles of parking lots fill with Land Rovers and Volvo station wagons and the kids all camp out for a couple of days, skipping showers, partying. Sure they form a community -- a community of ticket holders, looking for escapist pleasures. Not the kind of social interaction likely to change the world. But whoever said anything about changing the world. That certainly does not appear be one of the pre
cepts of the Patchouli Nation.
For all of its reverence for iconography of earlier, more socially volatile ages -- the music of Bob Marley, Jimi Hendrix, maybe even the Doors, Patchouli Nation is a deluded and irrelevant demographic group, soon to trade in their dreadlocks and no showering ways when, and if, the time comes to get a real job. Their nostalgia for music of an earlier age is emblematic of their desire to stick their heads in the sand and deny the difficult and contemporary questions posed by artists like Kurt Cobain, Bob Mould, or The Roots (check out their latest offering, their aptly named "Things Fall Apart.") Questions, among others, about individuality in the face of conformity. Make no mistake -- I am most definitely asserting that belonging to Patchouli Nation is antithetical to individuality. It is simply a more cleverly packaged conformity with a superficial rebelliousness reliant on the use of illicit drugs. My, how daring.
Music can be a powerful means of discourse on relevant social issues. Therefore, listening to contemporary music can be helpful in trying to understand the diverse and incredibly chaotic world which we must negotiate everyday. Unless, of course, you choose to remain here in Hanover for the rest of your life. A late night conversation I had the other day led me to believe, however, that some people's sense of nostalgia can prevent their appreciation of our music, music of the here and now. To say that everything that comes out now is crap is stupid and ignorant. To compare contemporary music with the icons of the '60s and '70s, one must remember that the passing decades have distilled our musical knowledge, presenting current listeners with the classics that have withstood the tests of time. Faith in the superiority of the past is misplaced and delusional. I would even go so far as to say irresponsible.
So the next time you are packing up your car for that weekend getaway, thinking you are actually escaping the insanity of the '90s for a retro-hippie experience, think again. You might be singing "white collar conservative flashing down the street/Pointing their plastic finger at me ... I'm going to wave my free flag ... High" (Hendrix, If Six was Nine). But if you are really about peace and unity, then maybe you should get in gear. Cause it takes more than some handsewn clothes and some glib talk about love to change the world. It takes consciousness, and a will to action, the cornerstones of individuality that can't be bought, or faked, or acquired by the Transitive Law of Nostalgia.
