Whomever stole “cool”…I’d like them to give it back. And not after it’s been used, thank you.

So I’m reading this book, right? It’s the bestest, most rockingist, fantastico thing I’ve read in years. It doesn’t insult me by talking down to me, nor does it puff out it’s chest and speak in an elevated, falsified fashion. It appeals to my intellect and my imagination at the same time. It helps me weave a thread through American cultural history that I’m always yearning to find. But as I read it, I’m saddened by the one question left unanswered (well, to be fair, Leland might get to it eventually, I’ve not finished the book).

Hippness, what’s cool, is so pervasively American…and is still a part of today’s world in countless ways. But the cold hand of marketing has violated Hip in such a gross fashion that to me it seems it’s not quite what it used to be. Hip is elusive, above all that, but aware. Hip is The Lost Generation of writers (ex-patriat Americans) such as Hemingway and Pound. Hip is the Duke Ellington and the jazz masters. From the smokey brooding of Humphrey Bogart to the slang language of first-generation slaves, Hip is underground…and as soon as it’s existence is discovered, it morphs into something else to maintain it’s status. (really the book does an amazing job of shedding light on the multitude of definitions) But nowadays marketing and the media are constantly trying to pimp Hip, exploit it to make a buck. And well, that just ain’t cool.

I guess for me it all ties in with music and art and creativity in general. The creative spirit is something so fragile, so precious and magical that to violate the unspoken sanctity of it is blashphemy. Since hip runs from the limelight, and the lime searchlight is constantly on the lookout for what to exploit next, hip is constantly moving now. Nirvana goes from underground gem to a bastardized supergroup of movement poster boys less than 3 years. The result? The true genius dies off (in this case, literally) and the bloated imposters move in. It happened with hip hop, pulp detective novels in the 30s, film noir and countless other artistic movements.

Is it right to wish for this trend to die off? Would allowing hip to flourish and grow defeat the actual, inherent ingredient that makes it what it is? I guess I’m just overly sensitive to allowing the creative to blossom in someone. I loathe anything that stands in the way of personal growth of any kind, be it spiritual, creative, intellectual or otherwise.

Again, such a tremendous topic is bumped around and reduced by my mindless and incoherent rambling to pure goop. Oh well, read the book and you’ll understand.

All the cool people are doing it.