ASYLUM

* Gothery

Subcultures are an odd thing. For instance, for many people, subcultures are about acceptance. Others say they are, in fact, just another kind of clique, and while they may be alienated from the mainstream, they still represent a kind of primitive tribal allegiance thing — painting "goths vs. chavs" as being like rival football team supporters.

I disagree, but it's not always easy to articulate why; and part of this is because for any given subculture, there are "members" who are in fact using it as "us vs. them", or just fashionistas passing through because it happens to be trendy right now.

Of course, if you point this out, you run the risk of being accused of cliquishness yourself, or "not accepting people" which, for a subculture about accepting people for who they are, is a cardinal sin.

(This is the fundamental reason why goths are not simply a mirror image of chavs: Chavs are all about conformity and intolerance, mocking or attacking those who are different; whereas goths are happy to associate with people who do not dress like them — as long as they, too, are tolerant, and have something intelligent to say.)

So... on the one hand, I wouldn't want to snobbishly exclude someone without good reason. On the other hand, who would want to share a subculture with someone who tarnishes that subculture by behaving like an asshole and is only going to shed it, like a reptile peeling off their skin, in six months time?

But where to draw the line?

It's interesting, now that more than a couple of decades have passed since gothdom first rose, to look back, and compare goths and former goths as they were then, to as they are now.

There was an article in the Guardian recently about a PhD thesis looking at what goths have gone on to achieve later in life. While it's nice to hear (if utterly unsurprising) that most goths get good jobs, the article itself is a rather stupid and stereotyped piece of work. Lifting out a couple of trying-to-be-funny sample quotes:

9. Disarmingly pointy boots It is a little-known fact that inside their shoes, goths' feet are just as pointy as their winklepickers. (...) 10. Drives a hearse to work And doesn't work at a funeral parlour. — Stupid Article

Apparently, the mainstream press is shooting for the "livejournal personality test" market. That aside, the interesting thing about the article is that the author claims to be a former goth herself. She also interviews several other goths/former goths. And I noticed a correlation:

• Those who were depressed, lonely, or alienated, and thus drifted into a gothic lifestyle, have gone on to creative or professional jobs; and even if they dress "mainstream" now, look back with acceptance at their former lifestyle.

• Those who mock goths and distance themselves from their former appearance ("electric-blue hair extensions, big boots with great big skulls, more crimped hair than Pete Burns. Totally and utterly ridiculous" says one) have fluffy, irritating jobs in The Meeja, and were only ever goth because it was momentarily trendy. See:

For at least six months in the 80s, I reached for the hair crimpers, painted my bedroom black and scrawled the name of gothy band the Birthday Party on the door so it looked like blood. — Stupid Article Author

Yes dear, that makes you goth. *rolls eyes*

And so, my Retrospective Criteria For Goth Or Not: "Do you look back on your 'goth phase' and think it was ridiculous?"

If the answer is yes, you were Not A Goth. You were and are a Trendy Poser. Go wash your face and change into some blue jeans.

* Coupland, Morrisey, together at last

Douglas Coupland — a Mighty Fine Author — interviews Morrisey, and spends a fair amount of the time angsting about the process of interviewing in its own right, and whether it has any real meaning in this modern age. It's rather good:

Hi. I'm your interviewer. I have this magic totem called a Sony, and I'm going to put it on the table here, and as long as the Sony is there I possess whatever power over you that you allow me to have. If you grant me no power, I will turn on you and brand you an asshole in print and trash your work. If you give me too much power, I will be contemptuous of you and also trash you and your work. (...) Let's face it, pretty much any info you need is already out there on Google. Interviews never go away any longer. They just pile up and up and up for the rest of time. If people want to know something about a subject, they can just find it themselves. All that remains is control of the asshole yes/no switch. Do you want an interviewer to flip it? — Douglas Coupland

* The Mountains of Madness

Last Friday, I went to see The Mountains of Madness, a production by The Tiger Lillies and German industrial musician Alexander Hacke. It was, indeed, batshit insane and rather good, being a musical rendition of the works of HP Lovecraft — a fairly mindwarping proposition in its own right, even before you get into who was playing...

Hacke performed spoken work intros and a chilling but sadly all-to-short summoning of a certain elder god (drawing spontaneous applause from the more clued-in members of the audience), as well as working the synth gear. The Tiger Lillies were in their usual falsetto/accordion/singing saw mode, but with a darker, less saucy bent than usual. The only downside was that the lyrics were hard to pick out at the time — I bought the DVD though, which has them helpfully printed in the booklet. They also projected a rather strange display, best described as "19th century woodcuts with a Boschian bent, imported into Flash and animated cardboard-cutout style." Overall, the show ruled.

(The (anti-) warm-up-act Sonic Knitwear, on the other hand, blew goats. Although it certainly got points for out-and-out weirdness, it also scored highly for "causing people to leave the auditorium" and "I wish I had the brass balls to walk on stage at the South Bank Centre infront of a packed audience, be that talentless, and get paid for it".)

In other news, recently I was given some kind of fruit-juicing space station, also known as Fargo For Fruit. And my girlfriend exploded out of a cake at me. Happy times. :)