5 - MONSU Caulfield

EDITORS
David Heslin
Rupert Carr-Gregg (Art Director)
MARKETING MANAGER
Lauren Brumley
CONTRIBUTING EDITORS
Kristen Daly, Ryan De Remer,
Louise Jones, Kate McKenzie,
Kaitlin Morris, Tiffany Simon,
SImon WIsdom, Scott Templeton:
(Intellectual property p. 43 )
CONTRIBUTING ARTISTS
Ryan De Remer ( p. 20-21 )
CONTACT
Esperanto Student Magazine,
Level 2, 2 Princess Avenue,
Caulfield, Vic, 3145
03 99031292
esperanto@monsucaulfield.org.au
or
FACEBOOK www.facebook.com/esperantomagazine
LEGAL
Esperanto magazine is published by
MONSU Caulfield. Views expressed
within do not necessarily reflect those
of MONSU Caulfield, the editorial
panel, the publisher, the editor, or
any other person associated with
Esperanto.
EDITORIAL
Prejudice is fun. Sure, it doesn’t regularly get a
place in Cosmo’s hot autumn trends, but the art of
willfully failing to understand an entire social group
is a pursuit that the whole family can enjoy.
Nevertheless, we’re a pretty open-minded lot at
Esperanto. We take matters like gender equality,
cultural diversity and religious tolerance seriously.
We’re at Monash University, for heaven’s sake – if
this were the McCarthy era, Elia Kazan would have
been informing on us. In most cases, prejudice just
isn’t really on our radar.
And then there are hipsters. While we’re not aware
of a spate of hipster bashings, mass hipster discrimination in the workplace or hipster boats being
subjected to the Malay Solution, this particular social group certainly appears to be victim of a great
deal of community animosity. Why?
Well, don’t ask us. Apart from a few vague, inconclusive identifying features such as skinny jeans,
Radiohead and Brunswick Street, hipsters are kind
of difficult to define.
For that reason, we have devoted our second edition to tackling this dilemma, seeking the opinions
of students who (probably erroneously) claim to
know something about the phenomenon. In doing
so, we hope that we shall contribute to the further
education of ourselves and the remainder of the
university population about this pressing topic. A
bientôt.
adapted from urbandictionary.com
5
CONTENTS.
REGULARS.
3.
4-5.
8-9.
30-38.
40-41
CONTACT US
EDITORIAL
MISC.
News, Events & Promotions
MUSIC & FILM
Hipster booster kit, hipster cinema, Kid A & more
ARTIST CORNER (Facebook Chat edition)
Chewing the fat with mixed media artist Matt Dettmer
FEATURES.
10-11.
12-13.
14-15.
18-19.
20-21.
HIPSTERS & POSEURS
An introductory guide
WHERE’S WALLY?
The forefather of hipster fashion
VEGANISM
An analysis of the stir-fry hipster
INSTANT INDIE?
The ‘hipstamatic’ catastrophe
HELVETICA
...Is the neue booty
24-25. HOW TO BE A HIPSTER ON THE GOLD COAST
Enough said
CENTREFOLD.
22-23. Sexy Radiohead frontman Thom Yorke
06 esperanto 02 . 2011
30.
20.
26.
24.
17.
12.
MISC.
MISC.
bringing you up to date with the news, music and events ‘you probably haven’t heard of’...
OSAMA
PANDA BEAR - TOMBOY
Tomboy is the fourth solo effort from
Anilmal Collective poster boy Noah
Lennox. Hit up iTunes for the MPthrees
or www.paw-tracks.com to order the
vinyl (effing hipsters) - If not for the
whole thing then for the album’s third
single Last Night at the Jetty, which will
be difficult to beat for the best track of
2011. Booom.
“I WISH THEY MADE THIS FOR GIRLS”
“The amount of times I’ve actually heard a girl say
“I WISH THEY MADE THIS FOR GIRLS” when
looking at boys’ clothes goes beyond memory.
From that quote, I’ve begun a little Photo Series
project with some of the most gorgeous women
in my life. Done right, the series should have that
inexplicable umph most guys feel when waking up and seeing a girl in his t-shirt and boxers.
Dressed in my clothes, they will one by one be
featured on the blog.” reads the statement on
photographer Vincent Tsang’s blog. Check out
Vincent’s amazing portfolio at vincenttsang.com
POST SCRIPT: If you look like this girl, feel free to
report to the Esperanto office and ask for Rupert.
08 esperanto 02 . 2011
TAME IMPALA @
COACHELLA
We aren’t a particularly patriotic bunch here at Esperanto,
but watching (via youtube)
these four Perth psych-rockers kill it at one of the world’s
biggest music festival was
the closest i’ve ever come to
strapping an Australian Flag
on my back and getting a
So-Cro tattoo.
If you haven’t already, buy
Innerspeaker on iTunes
or y’all local record stores
stores. Keep rockin’ Kevin
Parker.
MELBOURNE CINÉMATHÈQUE GIVE-AWAY
As directors go, Rainer Werner Fassbinder
was pretty prolific. He made 40 films in the
space of 15 years before carking it at the
tender age of 37, and was one of the leading names of the ‘New German Cinema’
movement of the 1970s. Openly bisexual
at a time when it still carried a fair degree of
stigma, Fassbinder was one of the first major
international filmmakers to deal explicitly with
homosexuality. Melbourne Cinémathèque
is running a retrospective of his films from
June 8-22, and we have three mini-passes
to give away. Simply send us an email at
esperanto@monsucaulfield.org.au with an
answer to the following question: what was
the name of the last film Fassbinder made?
By the time you read this, it will probably be older
news than the Magna Carta, but just in case Esperanto happens to be the only media provider
you have ever read and none of your friends care
enough to tell you anything, we’d like to take it upon
ourselves to inform you that Osama Bin Laden is
dead. Please feel free to react to that news however
you like (whether that entails gleefully overturning
cars and waving an American flag, or darkly muttering about global conspiracies and writing a peeved
letter to Lot’s Wife). Frankly, we don’t particularly care
either way, and (this being the hipster issue and all)
would prefer to offer a sardonic “Osama who?” and
go put on a Sufjan record instead.
BIEBER WOUND DOWN
OFWGKTA - HIPSTER HOP?
SNOWMAN - ABSENCE
Perth-spawned expats
Snowman could be the
ultimate hipster band, if it
weren’t for the fact that most
hipsters probably haven’t
heard of them. Their dark,
ambient soundscapes tend
more towards the unsettling
than the soothing; their previous album toying with agreeably aggressive stuff like
drums and screaming. Oddly,
the small matter of the band
breaking up seems to have
had a calming effect on them
- their new, and (sob) last
album, Absence, a surprisingly gentle affair. Whether or
not it makes for good exam
revision music is debatable,
but we give it the Esperanto
seal of approval, together
with Moonlight Sonata and
the ocean sounds at the end
of Eddy Current Suppression
Ring’s Rush to Relax.Please
don’t blame us if you fail.
Gone are the days of hipsters blissing out
to Wu-Tang & Dre - the new age hipster
is listening to this upstart collective talk
about suicide and rape (kids these days).
Anyhoo, they are coming to Australia... and
their shows sold out really quickly or something... because everyone loves jumping
on bandwagons and stuff...
Head to oddfuture.com to download their
mixtapes. We don’t know what to think of
them, but you might like them.
Speaking of really nice music, do yourself a
favour and type “Justin Bieber 800% slower”
into youtube. As great as it is, it probably still
doesn’t provide sufficient justification for our
decision to put this really annoying photograph underneath. Sorry.
9
H
R
HIPSTE
an
introductory
guide
POSEUR
ipsters! Nothing makes
the teeth grind and the
eyebrows furrow like the
sight of a young dandy in cuffed
chinos, desert boots, a shirt
buttoned up to the collar and a
disheveled, half-shaved head
of hair. Boy, all those girls with
Zooey Deschanel fringes reading
Dostoevsky in vegan cafes make
me angry! And what is with the
vintage bikes? Why do hipsters
rave about New York and Berlin,
smoke endless cigarettes and
watch obscure French movies?
Why do they obsess over The
Smiths, Sonic Youth and The Velvet Underground? Rah, rah, rah.
Look, whatever. This argument
has circled around the internet
for some time now, and commentators agree that the haters
have run out of puff. Who could
seriously deride a subculture
focused on a shared appreciation of good art and music and
American Apparel? “People don’t
hate hipsters,” muses Maria Bustillos of The Awl. “What people
hate so much is the faux-hipster.”
And because telling real hipsters
from the poseurs is such a freaking ordeal, “the easiest way out
is simply to deny any involvement
in the whole business.” Thus,
no-one admits to being a hipster,
even though hipster culture
provides a legitimate space for
creative innovation and social
bonding.
Bustillos reckons you can easily
10 esperanto 02 . 2011
tell the difference between a
hipster and a faux-hipster. The
hipster is having fun, preferably at
some indie joint in Brunswick; but
the poseur stands around with
arms crossed – or outstretched
towards a keyboard – and
judges. “The poseur is an
easy to spot, most people rarely
bother to find them; as such, the
constant vilification of general
‘hipsterdom’ continues. Attention,
bloggers of the world (and angry
jocks about to punch something)!
Please realise that poseurs are
not hipsters.
WHO COULD SERIOUSLY DERIDE A SUBCULTURE
FOCUSED ON A SHARED APPRECIATION OF GOOD
ART, MUSIC AND AMERICAN APPAREL?
aesthetic snob without aesthetic
discernment,” she says. “He
sneers but has no understanding
of standards. The poseurs are
having zero fun pretending to not
like anything.” Some fellow called
Nietzsche once said, “the man
who despises himself nevertheless esteems himself as one who
despises.” Nietzsche, why were
you so smart? Do you want to
come around to my place and
write a few essays for me? I’m
too busy drinking coffee at Mama
Dukes, wondering if my friends
and I are faux-hipsters or the real
deal.
The real fakes are the business
students who have ventured
over from Monsu Café for a latte
and a warm croissant. Shame
on you, liars! Everyone knows
you have to be a Vis Com
student and a Deerhunter fan to
even consider stepping foot in
Mama Dukes! No, I’m kidding.
Although genuine poseurs are
Poseurs, says Bustillos, are the
“scowling affected types who are
in such a hurry to be the first to
know the New New Thing before
anyone else does.”
Poseurs are everywhere, people.
The poseur shows up at the gig
of some unknown nu-rave band,
just so he can rave about said
band to his friends later on. Did
I say rave? His tone is too dry
to betray any genuine morsel of
curiosity or enthusiasm. And the
Kubrick marathon was showing
on SBS that week, so you know
he should have been wildly curious about this band. No, he just
enjoys the giddy satisfaction of
knowing some listless musicians
before they hit it big. The band
drops a sophomore record, and
the poseur gleefully declares that
he “likes their old stuff better.”
Mark my words, this year the
poseur will sum up his Splendour
experience with a dry Facebook
status: “too many jocks and
dumb orange girls at Splendour.
Kanye played nothing pre-2008.
Lame.”
Of course, genuine hipsters are
everywhere too. Bustillos argues
that hipsters stick together in
large cities like London and New
York, forming a Bohemian milieu
driven by “inventiveness, intelligence and taste over wealth
and conformity.” Melbourne is
crawling with these creative
young renegades, and hundreds
of establishments - including
clothes stores, bars and galleries
- have emerged to facilitate the
interests of this new (flannelette
and vintage fur-clad) class. Being
indie or hipster should be fun,
and in a vibrant and artsy city
like Melbourne, alternative young
things are not in short supply.
What do you say, kids of the
counterculture? Should we overcome our fears and proudly claim
the hipster title? Yes! Should we
get rid of these poseurs once
and for all? You bet! Should we
kick down the many prejudices
against our own kind? Of course!
Now, hang on. I just bought
these vintage leather boots from
that secondhand store in Fitzroy,
and I don’t want to scuff them
just yet. So how about everyone
else kicks, and I just sit here and
drink wine and listen to Deerhunter. That sounds better. Let’s
get to it.
KRISTEN DALY
11
SKINNY JEANS; NAUTICAL STRIPES; THICK-RIMMED GLASSES; SIDE FRINGE;
BEANIE: THE GODFATHER OF THE CONTEMPORARY HIPSTER MOVEMENT IS
WHERE’S WALLY.
FORGET PUNKS, BEAT POETS AND HIPPIES, WALLY NOT ONLY SET THE BASIS
FOR HIPSTER APPAREL - HE FOUNDED THE ENTIRE IDEOLOGY.
Wally’s individuality is an essential
element of the hipster image. The
only way to spot him was by his
ever-present hipster regalia. The
extent of Wally’s individualism
was, however, compromised by
the introduction of Wilma, Wenda
and Woof the dog, who all sported the same hipster ensemble.
The contemporary hipster must
also wrestle with the fact that they
are individuals within a group.
First appearing in 1987, Wally
created a hipster desire for all
things retro
An element of faux-anarchy was
introduced when the original
1987 edition was banned for
showing a bare nipple.
Wally’s nemesis Odlaw appended
his hipster uniform to include the
ironic moustache.
Regardless of the environment
Wally was hiding in, he was
always nonchalantly self-aware as
he waved to the audience.
Wally inspired the hipster obsession with the ‘authentic’. Sometimes you may have been fooled
by a ‘red herring’ in the picture
books; but, upon closer inspection, it was never as good as the
real thing.
And remember all those times
when you couldn’t find Wally in
the picture? He was probably off
smoking rollies on his fixie.
Wally has created the perfect
hipster irony: hipsters can now
ironically reference themselves
referencing Wally by going to a
dress up party dressed as Wally.
Where’s Wally. Urban hipster
since 1987.
KATE McKENZIE
AN
ANALYSIS
OF
THE
STIR-FRY
HIPSTER
I’m not a vegetarian. It’s not that I’ve
never considered it, but it’s just never
been a massive priority.
14 esperanto 02 . 2011
PHOTOGRAPH: FLAGSTAFF PHOTOS
I don’t have anything against animals. I like animals; particularly the
furry ones. True, I don’t really get the
whole ‘whale’ thing – surprisingly,
loitering interminably on a platform in
Warrnambool for two hours eating my
own hand in boredom didn’t really
endear me to them – but I’m definitely
against animal cruelty.
It’s just that – well, how can I put it?
We live in a human society. We have
laws for humans. We don’t politely
write a missive to the Parasite Workers’ Union before buying cough syrup, and nor do we allow the bovine
population of Wagga Wagga to vote
in the Federal Election. At the end of
the day, the best we have been able
to achieve as a species has been to
look out for ourselves (and even then,
we have failed pretty miserably in that
department). Perhaps, one day in the
future, when poverty, inequality and
xenophobia are distant memories,
we will be able to move on to looking
after our four-legged friends. In the
meantime, animal welfare seems a
little less relevant.
Having said that, I have a lot of
respect for people who are vegetarians. In fact, something that I’ve
realised in recent times is that most
of the people I know are vegetarian. My girlfriend only eats seafood,
my housemates are vegan, and a
substantial proportion of my friends,
acquaintances and work colleagues
would rather take a Silvio Berlusconi
t-shirt into a gender studies tutorial
than eat meat.
These gentle folk seem to have
another thing in common: they’re
all inner-north, latte-sipping, woolly
scarf-adorned hipsters. The correlation is clear: there is something
distastefully unhipsteresque about
slaughtering a zebra and tearing into
its juicy flesh in frenzied ecstacy, Bear
Grylls style.
Is it merely a fashion statement?
It’s possible, but that would be an
unkind presumption; personally, I
find it difficult to believe. It’s all very
well to change one’s clothing, hair or
record collection in order to conform
to some kind of identity. Not only are
these easy sacrifices, they are all
actually fairly fun and beneficial activities. If the end result of such alterations is a healthy diet of good film,
good music and an enjoyable sense
of sartorial apartness from the ‘mass’,
well, who’s complaining?
Vegetarianism is different. Don’t get
me wrong - I’ve enjoyed the odd
tofu-broccoli-kidney bean stir-fry.
But giving up the taste of fresh
chicken sandwiches; the aromas of a
gravy-laden stew; the rich flavours of
gourmet beef and red wine pies? No.
It’s too high a price to pay. As antiindie infidels darkly mutter, it would
be all too easy to drop the façade
whenever convenient; and yet, this
tends to be a self-enforced decision.
There must be something more at
stake here.
The origin of the link between hipsters and herbivores isn’t even all that
clear. Vegans are often characterised
as rabid, sign-waving PETA vigilantes
or placid, Earth-loving space cadets.
It’s hard, really, to see hipsters comfortably fitting into either stereotype.
As much as your garden-variety
hipster would probably not be above
taking to the streets for the odd once
off worthy cause like a gay rights rally
or anti-war protest, there’s something
about hipsterdom that doesn’t exactly
scream ‘die-hard’. A cursory reading of the psychopathic animal-rights
ramblings on the walls of the veganfriendly Lentil As Anything bar should
be more than enough to exonerate
hipsters from that negative association: the aforementioned scrawlings
are, after all, utterly bereft of irony or
wit. Clearly, the PETA hoodlum and
Brunswick café denizen are distinct
entitites.
Hippies, it must be said, are another
story. Certainly, a taste for marijuana
is shared; but, once more, the links
are tenuous. It’s far easier to see a
hipster being friends with a hippie
than actually becoming some kind
of hellish amalgamation of the two
(thankfully distinct) subcultures. As
much as there may be a few examples of this macabre phenomenon
in the dark corners of Smith Street, I
remain sceptical.
And yet, the hipster/vegan correlation remains. I can only conclude that
hipsters must, by and large, be little
more than nice, intelligent people
with a social conscience. If that’s the
case, then the hipster haters need to
have a good, hard look at themselves
and ask why they choose to belittle
such an enlightened minority. Perhaps they could even weigh up the
issue and find that they, too, can no
longer justify eating meat. I sincerely
hope they do, as it will mean all the
more beef and red wine pies for me.
DAVID HESLIN
I have this friend - my best friend, actually - who suffers from the chronic disease of liking things
‘first’ - before anyone else, ever.
Now, I understand exactly how frustrating it is when your favourite band turns - god forbid - mainstream; or, when every other girl is crushing on the lines you cried your heart out to, like, three
years ago; or, when every other kid in your class jumps on the bandwagon of your favourite book
(my copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone is inscribed “Merry Christmas Kate, love
Gran and Grandad, 1998” - that’s right bitches, I got there first). But really, is it that much of a
big deal?
Let’s examine: my friend was quite outraged when she found out that our year 8 camp would
coincide with the Green Day concert. She was mortified, however, to find that everybody else
was upset too. Her brother had lent her Dookie when she was younger (practically still in nappies,
from the way she tells it). And, in her mind, this world famous band was all hers.
What is this obsession/compulsion with originality? Is it that everything we do is so similar to
everyone else that we crave any slight difference as ours? (Of course, this only applies to things
that make us look superior - no one wants to be that kid who liked World of Warcraft before
everyone else).
THE TRENDSETTER’S
LAMENT
It’s pretty impractical to claim things of a nature as one’s own, so why do it? We’re taught this
concept of ownership from a young age: for example, that toy that you allowed your friend to play
with, but not purchase one for herself because you had it first. Or again, back to Year 8, when
we studied Shaun Tan’s The Rabbits - which I did not appreciate as much as I should’ve at the
time - where the message I got was “land used to belong to the Aboriginal people until the British
came along and stole it; this was a dog act.” We’re taught conflict through being there ‘first’ all
through school. We’re taught manners in order to not take other people’s toys, and that it’s rude
if you do. This concept, incidentally, was mirrored in boy drama during my early teens (as well
as last Thursday night), surrounding who was ‘off limits’ because one of our friends happened
to like them first.
Everyone hates that person who only discovered Kings of Leon after Sex on Fire was released.
Don’t we all hesitate before we tell that complimenter exactly where we got our ‘really pretty
dress’ from in the fear that she might go and buy it herself? I treasure my op shop purchases
more than my normal clothes (even though they were like a tenth of the price, if that), because
lets face it: no one else is even remotely likely to be wearing the same thing.
So, is it that much of a big deal if someone else liked/knew/had something first? Shit yes it is,
apparently, because my Thursday nights now have a shotgun rule on the boys I can and cannot
chat up.
16 esperanto 02 . 2011
KAITLIN MORRIS
FROM ICON TO EYESORE - are Kings of Leon ‘sell-outs’ or success story?
Let’s say it from the get-go: I fucking love
Kings Of Leon. Ok, maybe you won’t
hear Only by the Night or Come Around
Sundown ringing in my headphones or
echoing off the walls of the Esperanto office; but it’s like the first girl you ever kissed
- you’ll never forget the role they played in
your life.
Back in Year 10, my friends and I would
spend hours in each other’s garages guitars and drumsticks in hand -trying to
piece together covers of Taper Jean Girl
and Trani, our hair brushing our shoulders
and our jeans so tightly wrapped around
our legs it could be considered a health
risk. Nothing seemed ‘cooler’ than recreating ourselves in the image of these four
rugged southerners: I mean, these were
narcissistic, drug-abusing, womanising
rock-stars - what more can a teenage boy
strive to be?
And then came March 2007. The hair was
shorter, the jeans were tighter and Caleb
had stopped singing about his dick (see
Pistol of Fire). Over some ghostly synthesisers, Caleb’s tempered drawl whispered:
“She said call me now baby, I’ll come
a-running”. On Call would prove to be the
perfect crossover single for KOL. Surely
enough, the Followills would start making
more regular appearances on MTV and
Video Hits, and it gave the band a taste
of mainstream appreciation - appreciation
that previous singles California Waiting and
Four Kicks had not seen. Nevertheless,
there we were front-and-centre of Festival
Hall in 2008, hours early, hurling abuse at
supporting band Youth Group to get off
the stage. That performance stays with me
as one of my favourite gigs ever, and led
me to overcome my biases and appreciate Because of the Times on the same
level as the band’s two previous efforts.
We all know what happened to the Followill quartet next (cue recycled, hatefilled tirade about Only by the Night and
‘selling out’) but I don’t hate Kings of Leon
for changing their sound. Don’t get me
wrong: I too have to suppress my gag
reflex upon hearing Use Somebody, and
Caleb himself refers to Sex on Fire as a
“piece of shit”. Still, as forgettable as the
carefully crafted arena rock ballads on
OBTN are, they launched the band into
the dizzying heights of superstardom that
they now enjoy. At first, the band seemed
to rage against the notoriety, looking tired
and resentful when performing renditions of the two ‘smash hit’ singles; even
chastising the crowd at the 2009 Reading Festival with a “We all know you’re
sick of Kings Of Leon”. But watching the
live-stream of the band’s performance at
this year’s Coachella Festival, the three
brothers (and cousin) seemed to be em-
bracing the appreciation of their mammoth
audiences, repeatedly thanking the crowd
for their ongoing “love and support”. Yuck.
All prejudices aside, Kings of Leon may be
the last band of the modern era to achieve
superstardom on the now-infamous
‘Stillwater’ archetype - is this not a romantic ideal worth celebrating?
When I think of the Saturday nights of my
teenage years, discovering alcohol and
chasing girls, it is hard not to hear echoes
of Aha Shake Heartbreak and Youth and
Young Manhood. I will always appreciate
what the Followills taught me about rock
music; however, for now, I remain like a
father at his son’s ballet recital: not necessarily liking it, but not loving him any less
for his choices.
RUPERT CARR-GREGG
instant indie?
s we all know, FaceA
book has created a
paramount distraction for
the not-so-dedicated uni
student. When one gets
bored browsing through
pages of newsfeed dribble,
there is always a fail-safe
resort: the photo stalking
of those ‘friends’ with the
most consistently entertaining photo albums. While
it hasn’t exactly killed the
proliferation of profile pictures and happy snaps, the
introduction of the Hipstamatic application for iPhone
has generated a goldmine
of hipster retro snapshots.
As a result, Facebook is
experiencing an influx of
what-I’m-wearing-today;
my-dog-only-looks-cutewhen-I-use-a-retro-filter; and
this-is-a-picture-of-my-lunch
shots.
It has come to my attention
(via my own photo stalking
escapades) that this supersleek, indie façade is no
longer confined to the home
environment – Hipstamatic
is now going on vacation.
Hipsta-albums are now
popping up on our news
feeds. For those too lazy to
carry a camera, iPhones are
creating the ultimate proxy –
making even a weekend trip
out to Nana’s house in Narre
Warren look like a stopmotion adaption of Lords of
Dogtown.
It seems that Hipstamatic
is the ultimate tool for the
Wannabe Indie. Urbandictionary.com defines a Wannabe Indie as someone who
thinks that by acting indie,
they will be cool; when, in
reality they are not cool, and
never will be. Such types
probably drive around in an
Audi convertible, but still
manage to keep their fedora
in view in the rear window
as a method of upping their
hipster factor. Their modus
operandii is, frankly, the
equivalent of googling “how
to be indie” and then having
their friends take an indie
Hipsta-snap of them to use
as their profile picture.
But at the end of the day,
don’t we all want to glorify
things just a little bit? When
your Facebook info tab
states that you’re single,
work at McDonald’s, less
than halfway through your
arts degree and interested
in a relationship, it’s nice to
jazz things up a little bit. And
if your profile picture can
depict you as a new-age
super-fly indie kid, looking
ultra-trendy and fancy-free
(all for the small price of
$2.49) – then why the hell
not, I say.
LOUISE JONES
hipstamatic
wall of
lame
*apologies to the facebook freinds who have been exploited in this exercise
19
10 reasons why Helvetica is better than girlsí bottoms
1 - Helvetica doesnít poo.
’
2 - You can show Helvetica to your family.
’
3 - Helvetica is everyoneís type (designer pun, lol).
’
4 - You didnít get Helvetica from your mama.
5 - Helvetica never has an ugly typeface.
6 - You can change the size of Helvetica.
’
7 - Itís a good thing when Helvetica has a period.
8 - Helvetica doesnít sue you for half.
’
9 - Even nerds can layout Helvetica.
’
10 - Helvetica doesnít cry after you put it in a spread sheet.
So girlsí bottoms can go font themselves, ’
Helvetica is my bitch
20 esperanto 02 . 2011
thom yorke.
May Centrefold
PHOTOGRAPH: HIPSTERWAVE.COM
W
hen people ask about their holiday, hipsters show a complete lack of enthusiasm.
Most people want to know what you’re doing for
Easter; and, when you tell them you’re going to the
Gold Coast, their eyes tend to light up. “Queensland!”, gasp, like Charlie outside the gates of Willy
Wonka’s chocolate factory. “You can’t get better
than that!” But you feign disinterest, like that spoilt
American brat obsessed with video games. “Yeah,
it’s pretty cool I guess,” you shrug. “But I’m not
really in a holiday frame of mind, you know?” This
leads people to think you’re an intense person, too
embroiled in your art to even think about lying on
the beach and drinking cocktails with mini umbrellas in the glass.
Hipsters continue to dress like hipsters.
Yeah bitches, you’re from Melbourne. Can you
tell? The black biker jacket, vintage floral dress
and suede desert boots get you noticed as you
walk into the arrival lounge at Brisbane airport. The
locals wear thongs and board shorts, but you’re
not from the Gold Coast – you’re from Melbourne.
Melbourne. You’re sweating in your wool cardigan
and leather jacket, but you’re willing to suffer for
your art.
H
ipsters feel out of place in the Gold Coast. As creatures with a penchant for overcast skies and dark corners, their experience as ‘holiday makers’ in the Sunshine
State is one of alienation, boredom and ennui. As a town focused entirely on the
comings and goings of tourists, the Gold Coast has few op shops or record stores, no
significant live music scene, and more drunk idiots per capita than any other Australian
city.
Melbourne is besieged all year round with gloomy weather, providing the perfect conditions for artsy folk to stay inside and discuss Godard and Basquiat and the new Comme
des Garçons collection. In Queensland, on the other hand, it’s actually warm enough to
go outside! Once I realised I might be the closest thing to a hipster the Gold Coast would
get – most genuine hipsters wouldn’t dare travelling so far vnorth – I began to view my recent jaunt to the Sunshine State through new lens. The lens of non-prescription glasses,
that is. Hipsters of Australia, relax! You can survive a Gold Coast holiday by following
these simple steps:
People like to read on their holidays.
But hipsters swap the standard Eat, Pray, Love
garbage with Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell, or perhaps a cutting-edge magazine. If you’re
opting for the magazine as I did, you have to be
careful to pick the right kind of publication. Hipsters spit on Cosmopolitan or Cleo, so don’t even
consider it. Frankie is suitably twee, but the magazine is stocked everywhere now and the Polaroid
aesthetic is beginning to look tired. It’s over, baby,
over! Russh still has an ounce of hipster integrity,
thank God - you’ll spend your holiday absorbing obscure photographers from the late 1970s,
anarcho-punk bands from the UK and models
skulking about in American Apparel and Proenza
Schouler. Perfect.
Hipsters stay at luxury beachside apartments and
jostle for room in the spa with a bunch of strangers. Use them as fodder for your next novel/film.
Hipsters love to indulge in nostalgia, and there is
something delightfully classic about sharing a tropical lagoon and grimy barbecue with anonymous
vacationers. Once you would have made friends
with the chubby girl in the pink bikini, but now you
just linger by the spa and watch everyone. Not
creepy at all. You plan your next novel/film, a bleak
study of middle-class discontent starring Zooey
Deschanel and James Franco. On holiday in the
sepia-tinged 1960s, the two lovers face an existential crisis, fight bitterly and drink lots of margaritas by the pool. The oddballs on your holiday – the
chubby girl, the giggling tweens, the sleazy dad,
etc – will make a great supporting cast.
Hipsters respond to everything with a cool irony.
You have a ball at all the theme parks, screaming your way through the roller coasters and
water slides. What, hipsters aren’t made of stone!
But you find things have changed. You still love
the Wild West ride at Movie World, but you now
understand that the log boats, frontier towns and
American Indian tee pees are a tacky homage to
the western movies of yesteryear. But does anyone
else pause to remember Sergio Leone’s iconic
spaghetti westerns of the 1960s? No, they’ve all
dashed off to the Lethal Weapon ride. The Gold
Coast is deliciously camp but no-one else cares.
Never mind, you can still take some cool pictures
of the palm trees and art deco motels and post
them to your tumblr. Your Melbourne friends will
laugh softly as you recall your adventures, before
you resume your discussion of Godard and those
Comme des Garçons boots. Home sweet home.
KRISTEN DALY
25
like a normal bully, hipsters
instead resign to passive
aggressive ways of making
you feel bad. The reason
for this is probably that
they know if a fight were to
actually occur, they wouldn’t
be able to run away fast
enough in their skinny jeans
and brogues. A normal bitch
would just call you fat, but
a hipster will talk about his
In year 11 I moved from my cousin’s band like they’re
the best thing since Britney,
upper-middle-class high
and then condescendschool to an inner-city casingly say “you’ve probably
ual-clothes-wearing school
never heard of them”. Smug
where hipsters and goths
remarks like this leave you
were rife and mainstream
feeling inferior for not being
was the minority. I was a
rad enough to know about
petite blonde who played
netball and thought Chucks said cool band (which usuwere something you did af- ally carries a name like ‘A
ter one-and-a-half raspberry Cat Born in an Oven Isn’t
cruisers. The sweater-wear- a Cake’, or something with
ers saw straight through me, ‘wolf’ in it).
and immediately classed me
My first instinct when I got
as too uncool to hang out
to university - where, to my
with them. I spent the next
disappointment, hipsters
two years of school receivstill hold a majority - was
ing dirty looks every time I
to try and fit in. I bought
rocked up to class with my
skinny jeans, and spent
non fair-trade coffee and
hours trawling the internet
ballerina flats.
for an unsigned band to
brag about. All too quickly,
Not brave enough to call
the jeans stretched and
you anything to your face
the band ‘sold out’, and I
or physically assault you
PHOTOGRAPH: IACMUSIC.COM
How many of you have ever
felt personally victimised by
a hipster? If you understood
that reference, chances are
you just raised your hand
(and are consequently being
looked at by some sweaterwearing long macchiato
drinker as if you’ve just
asked them how to spell
orange).
26 esperanto 02 . 2011
realised that conforming
to non-conformity was not
the path for me. Instead, I
went home and watched
Legally Blonde, where I was
inspired by heroine Elle’s
rebellion against the Harvard
hipsters. She too was cast
aside as a dumb blonde
by her peers for wearing
too much pink, but soon
won everyone over with her
heart of gold and accepting
nature.
We will all encounter hipster
hate at one point in our lives.
They’ll roam around ‘this little
coffee shop’ like elk, raising
their eyebrows at your shiny
brushed hair; mainstream
use of your ipod; or failure
to resist ‘the man’ because
you’re employed. Perhaps
this identically dressed elk
could learn a thing or two
from the Elle Woodses of
this world, and be more
accepting of those who
are ‘different’ and ‘unique’
and refuse to adhere to the
social norms of hipsterdom.
Also, they should stop trying
really really hard to look like
they’re not trying too hard.
ADVERTISEMENT
TIFFANY SIMON
*esperanto’s post-ironic comment on consumerism
SEX IT UP
2011
“SURE, JUST CUT THEM UP LIKE
REGULAR CHICKENS”
ERASERHEAD IN THE HIPSTERSPHERE
BY DAVID HESLIN
Hipsters tend to like Eraserhead. David
Lynch’s 1977 film is kind of like the epitome
of hipsterdom, complete with cult reputation,
ultra-weird aesthetic and a protagonist with
peculiar hair. Screenings at The Astor and
Rooftop are like a mini hipster convention,
with enough scarves, thick-rimmed glasses
and berets in the audience to clothe a ‘50s
nudist colony.
This phenomenon can be quite easily
explained: Eraserhead is, shall we say, a
little odd. Set in a post-apocalyptic industrial
landscape, the film follows a loose, unsettlingly nightmarish structure that – along with
the rest of its catalogue of bizarre imagery
– includes an unsettling cabaret show inside
a radiator; bleeding roast miniature chickens;
and, most disconcertingly, the ‘baby’.
The baby, looking like a cross between
Richard Wilkins and a dinosaur foetus, is
probably one of the most awful things in the
history of cinema. It cries, develops sores
and at one stage appears to laugh maniacally. It might be described as ‘Baby Born’
designed by KFC. Nobody knows how it
was constructed and operated, and Lynch
refuses to talk about it. Whatever the case,
it’s hard not to cringe whenever the thing is
on screen, particularly during the finale when
it’s subjected to a premature autopsy.
Jack Nance, the actor whose shocking afro
and stunned expression are as iconic as
the film itself, passed away in 1996. The
only other major role in Eraserhead was that
of the baby’s mother, played by Charlotte
Stewart. I asked her a few questions about
her memories of the film:
I believe you already had a fair bit of experience in television
and film acting before you were cast in Eraserhead. How did
you become involved in the film?
My roommate, Doreen Small, was a volunteer at the America Film Institute, and was working with [Terrence Malick
collaborator] Jack Fisk. He said David was looking for an
actress for his student film. I always agreed to help student
filmmakers and agreed to play ‘Mary X’. I didn’t know David
Lynch, but he seemed serious enough. It’s always exciting to
see the beginning of someone’s career.
Something I particularly enjoy in Eraserhead is the way you
and Jack Nance play your respective characters - both are
quite convincing and frightening. Some of your scenes, in
particular, appear to have required quite intense emotional
exertion on your part. As an actor, how did you achieve this
in such a surreal, abstract film?
Well, first of all, I didn’t feel it was a surreal, abstract film. I
always play as real as I feel the character to be – otherwise,
it’s a joke. You always have to be truthful to the situation.
What was your reaction to the ‘baby’ when you first saw it?
I’m no expert on animatronics, but it looks like quite a complex creation.
‘My’ baby was real to me. It was as frustrating as any newborn, and Mary X did not have the life experience to deal
with it.
Did you ever directly ask David what Eraserhead meant to
him? Is there an interpretation that gels with your understanding of the film?
I never asked him what it was about or what it represented. I
follow a director’s direction, no matter what; it was his vision.
Were you surprised by Eraserhead’s popularity? How was
your career as an actor affected by the film?
I was stunned by the reaction. Most student films stay in
vaults, but David was single minded about its importance.
I have gathered many fans from Eraserhead, and they now
know me from Twin Peaks as well as Little House on the
Prairie (which I was incidentally in the process of shooting at
the same time!).
CINÉMA DU HIPSTER
DAVID HESLIN
There are few tasks as unenlightening as trying to cram a subculture’s artistic preferences into a one-page article, and hipsters are
no exception. What films do hipsters like? Some have a thing for world cinema; some dig film noir; some non-ironically enjoy Disney.
Precisely because it is so difficult to define, I’m going to explore a certain type of hipster cinema in particular: contemporary American
‘independent’ film. Here, then, is a revisitation of five notable hipster-associated films of the last decade.
GARDEN STATE
I HEART HUCKABEES
GREENBERG
THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS
JUNO
I don’t bear much in the way
of animosity towards hipsters.
Watching Garden State, however, reminded me why many
people do. That’s not to say that
Zach Braff’s equally-loved-anddespised debut film is entirely
reflective of the subculture in
question; but it is enough so to
be profoundly annoying. The
protagonists in the film are such
self-important wankers that it’s
difficult to not want to vigorously
flay them with a pair of skinny
jeans, let alone empathise with
them. The film itself is actually
pretty enjoyable in parts, and almost has some good moments,
but in the end it’s still a film about
Queen Amidala and that guy
from Scrubs being complete
twats.
2008 United States Republican
presidential candidate Mike Huckabee has vehemently stated that I
Heart Huckabees was “terrible” and
“one of the worst movies I have ever
seen”. If that’s not enough to bestow
hipster credibility on the film, nothing
is. I Heart Huckabees gets a mention here mainly because it’s such
a ridiculously weird film. It’s kind of
like the Charlie Kaufman film Charlie
Kaufman never made, and, well,
that’s something.
‘Mumblecore’ was a short-lived,
Sundance-ish US indie movement that nobody here has really
heard of and nobody anywhere
cares about. As such, it doesn’t
warrant much of a mention
here; but Greenberg (a film that
some might describe as postmumblecore) definitely does. Full
of awkward silences, miscommunication and non-theatrically
delivered dialogue, Greenberg
provides another serious-ish
role to the surprisingly good Ben
Stiller, who plays a guy who used
to be in a band that never got
anywhere and is full of bitterness
as a result. Hipsters, take note.
It’s arguably Wes Anderson’s
most well-known film, but The
Royal Tenenbaums could just
as easily be replaced here by
Rushmore, The Life Aquatic,
The Darjeeling Limited or even
Fantastic Mr. Fox. Anderson in
some way epitomised the hipster subculture with his movies
before it even existed (which,
come to think of it, is a terribly
hipsterish thing to achieve). His
films are dripping in irony, nonsequiturs and disinterested
flippancy, which tend to make
them fairly attractive to those
of a hipsterish bent. Even the
presence of mainstream icons
like Owen Wilson, Ben Stiller
and (Mrs. Coldplay) Gwyneth
Paltrow don’t detract overly
from the indie cred of The
Royal Tenenbaums, which is
considerable.
If there’s something hipsters
can’t stand, it’s having their
uniqueness commodified. This
is more or less what happened
with Juno, an ‘independent’ picture produced by Fox Searchlight in order to appeal to the
hipster market. It’s quite possible
that some hipsters liked this film
upon first release, but few would
admit to it nowadays. Juno
is hipster Vietnam: a shame,
because, once one gets past all
the teeth-gnashing, it’s actually a
pretty good film, cynical exploitation of hipster subculture aside.
32 esperanto 02 . 2011
S
ymmetry is an inherently
attractive concept. From
a very young age we can
appreciate its innate beauty. It is
present in nature, in the wings
of a butterfly or the limbs of our
body; it governs the most basic
elements of mathematics and geometry. You can see it in millennia of architecture and religious
imagery, and it is a staple of
modern design to this day.
Symmetry is so appealing to us
because of its simplicity: it is easily interpreted and represented.
As our tastes mature, however,
we realise that this simplicity - as
elegant and appealing as it is is not necessarily the only idea
worth pursuing. We begin to seek
complexity in design, in composition, in thought; and this pursuit
becomes intellectual as well as
aesthetic.
34 esperanto 02 . 2011
photograph: www.okinart.net
Similar to other mediums, complexity and subtlety in music is
both beautiful and confronting.
From the intricate classical pieces
ofBach, piano performances
of Liszt, atonal compositions of
Schoenberg, to the freeform jazz
experiments by Coltrane, there
has always been music that has
pushed boundaries and challenged listeners. It took the brave
and the genius to create and
publish these kinds of works, and
more often than not their efforts
revolutionised popular music.
Now, many might think it ridiculous to compare musical greats
such as these with the modern
electronic and hip hop sounds
that I will elaborate on shortly;
and, in some ways, I agree. I am
certainly not saying the music of
the present day is necessarily as
groundbreaking, unique, or in-
novative as the work of influential
composers from centuries past.
However, I believe that our desire
for complexity and subtlety in music continues to manifest itself.
There will never be another
Mozart or Wagner or Beethoven.
These were geniuses that transformed music forever, and the
output of a single artist can no
longer be so revolutionary. This is
because technology continues to
diminish the technical and creative gap that once separated the
casual listener from the virtuoso.
Music technology is now so accessible that virtually anyone can
record and produce from their
home. What this means for discovering intelligent an challenging
music is that half the battle is
separating the magnificent from
the mundane. It also means that
every piece of music is part of a
much greater whole, and communal – rather than individual genius is the key. That is, musical trends and movements are
inspired not by a maverick, but by
communities.
Music is not only now more accessible to create, but to consume. This has allowed for variety
and diversity in genre to flourish
and specialise. Subgenres morph
and evolve so quickly that people
have trouble finding words to
describe them.
One particular specialised
subgenre I would like to discuss
here is that which is referred to
by (some) people as ‘wonky’. It
should be noted that the term
‘wonky’ - or ‘wanky’, as some
rather unkindly put it - is hotly
contested. It means different
things in different places, and the
genre can be labeled diversely
as ‘future beats’, ‘aquacrunk’, or
just plain hip hop, which makes
it somewhat more difficult to
define. In any case, it is a broad
term that loosely encompasses
artists who draw sounds from
instrumental hip hop, glitch hop,
dubstep, and IDM.
THE CREATIVITY AND
PRODUCTION FINESSE
EVIDENT IN [J DILLA’S]
BEATS WERE A BREATH
OF FRESH AIR IN A
SCENE IN DANGER OF
GOING STALE.
A major influence on wonky (as
well as the umbrella category that
is instrumental hip hop) is J Dilla.
Rising to underground acclaim
in the mid ‘90s, and reaching
the peak of his career in the
early 2000s, Dilla (born James
Yancey) continues to inspire
after his death in 2006. A prolific
producer and MC, his output
includes several solo albums
(some released posthumously);
countless remixes and instrumental releases; a collaboration with
Madlib; and production credits
for the likes of Busta Rhymes, A
Tribe Called Quest, SlumVillage,
and Erykah Badu.
J Dilla shifted focus of hip hop
production towards the instrumental backing track. The
creativity and production finesse
evident in his beats were a breath
of fresh air in a scene in danger
of going stale. Battling both a
life-threatening disease and lazy
audiences, Dilla reignited passion for intelligent and challenging
music despite the odds stacked
against him.
Regardless of individual musical taste, it is impossible to deny
that the Dilla ‘sound’ -particularly
that of his pre-2003 works – has
spawned a wide array of imitators. Since his death, instrumental beats have evolved into ever
more sophisticated and varied
directions. As a result of Dilla’s
success, the term ‘wonky’ has
become synonymous with instrumental beats worldwide.
Features indicative of wonky
include unquantized beats,
unstable synths and skittering
rhythms. The mid-range is often
emphasised with wide sounds
that bounce and weave around
unusual percussion and samples.
Other important artists related to
‘wonky’ are Flying Lotus, Samiyam, Hudson Mohawke, Rustie,
Mike Slott, Daedelus, Nosaj
Thing, DZA, Pixelord, TOKiMONSTA, Onra, Lorn, Free The
Robots, Swede:Art, Ras G, Mr
Dibiase, Take, Mono:Poly, Dimlite,
Illum Sphere. What is so amazing, and at times frustrating, is
that some of these artists sound
nothing alike.
From LA to Russia, the UK to
Australia, these wonky beatmakers are young and talented. Their
output varies in quantity and quality; their backgrounds vary from
musical prodigies to MPC hobbyists; and yet, they represent a
collective movement of forward
thinking experimentalists who will
change the way we appreciate
intelligent electronic and hip hop
music.
FUTURE BEATS
SIMON WISDOM
35
Spinning brings you five
albums to talk about if you
find yourself on a Smith
Street rooftop during a lull
in conversation. A ‘hipster
beats’ booster kit, if you
will...
RUPERT CARR-GREGG &
SIMON WISDOM
36 esperanto 02 . 2011
CLAP YOUR HANDS SAY YEAH Clap Your Hands Say Yeah (2005)
SUFJAN STEVENS Illinois (2005)
PANDA BEAR Person Pitch (2007)
NEUTRAL MILK HOTEL In The Aeroplane Over The Sea (1998)
THE SHINS Oh, Inverted World (2001)
Upon entering CHYSY’s eponymous debut LP,
one is greeted by the sounds of a nightmarish
circus. “Clap your hands!” commands outlandish
frontman Alec Ounsworth over a cartoonish carnival organ. The conventions of pop music tell us
to cringe at Ounsworth’s moaning vocal stylings,
and this grating opener suggests an inaccessibility that should deter listeners. However, what
follows is a beguiling album of effervescent pop
tunes. The band romanced the blogosphere,
with tracks like The Skin Of My Yellow Country
Teeth and Is This Love bouncing to all corners of
the interweb, even landing the awkward Brooklyn
quintet on Letterman. As an album CHYSY is a
smooth start-to-finish listen, with no filler in sight.
Since the release of Illinois in 2005, a love of
Sufjan’s fragile melodies and lush orchestration
has been the bread and butter of a sensitive hipster. Best enjoyed alone on a long journey, this
album pulls at heartstrings and swells with uplifting earnestness. Songs on Illinois are meticulously arranged and overflowing with instruments
(all played, recorded, and produced by Sufjan
himself). Layers of string, piano, and vocals often
build for minutes before joyous climaxes that
tumble into haunting and intimate compositions.
The lyrics are clever and endearing; and while
unfamiliar, the people, places and events Sufjan
draws upon feel strangely personal. A challenging but rewarding epic.
Since 2000, Animal Collective has crafted a
sound that has set them apart from the contemporary indiesphere, leaving a crowd of immitators to manifest in their shadow. Their thirteen
albums and EPs have captivated audiences from
the dumpster-diving Brooklyn vegans to the new
wave of entry-level popular alternative, but none
are more engaging than this from Noah Lennox
(AKA Panda Bear). Person Pitch is the third solo
LP from leading man Panda Bear; and, much
like the rest of the collectives cataogue, it is not
designed for the listener who chases immediacy.
Much like moss on a wall, the album develops and grows to consume its environment,
enchanting the listener as one becomes more
familiar with the wistful soundscapes on repeat
listens.
So, real rockstars write about drugs and bitches
- true? How about concept albums based on
an infatuation with the life and times of Anne
Frank? “The only girl I ever loved,” sings Jeff
Magnum on Holland 1945, ‘was born with roses
in her eyes / but then they buried her alive / one
evening in 1945 / with just her sister at her side
/ only weeks before the guns came and rained
on everyone”. Jeff Magnum is an eccentric and
eloquent wordsmith whose lyrics ring in your
ears hours after listening, and In The Aeroplane
Over The Sea is an excellent exploration of teenage nostalgia and quirky narratives crafted by
Magnum’s bizarre imagination.
There is a ubiquity to the appreciation of The
Shins’ catalogue that might scare off some fakesters (faux-hipsters). However, good song writing
is good song writing, and if James Mercer is
guilty of anything (it isn’t good looks) it is good
song-writing. “You’ve gotta hear this one song,
it’ll change your life, I swear,” says an oddball
Natalie Portman in Garden State. I wish the
first time I heard The Shins was on a cassette
handed to me by Natalie Portman. Fuck you,
Zach Braff. But I digress. Oh, Inverted World is
a blissful easy listening experience, with pop
hooks and gentle melodies aplenty. However,
what separates The Shins from the crowd of
contemporary folk-pop groups is the man at the
helm. Oh, Inverted World sees Mercer explore
the spaces between harsh and soft, in both his
song writing and whimsical vocal range.
47
THE DEFINITIVE
HIPSTER RECORD
(we think):
RADIOHEAD - KID A
STRESS
LESS
DAY
Behind all the gushing reviews of Kid A (best musical composition since Beethoven’s 5th, or whatever) lies a saddening fact: it would never have seen
the light of day had Radiohead not already been
famous. Nevertheless, it’s a blessing that it managed to slip through the cracks of music industry
mediocrity, considering the unconventionality of its
sound.
In many ways, the closest point of reference to
Kid A is The Beatles’ late ‘60s work. It’s a laboured
comparison; yet, if anything, the Radiohead album
is more consistent than the rougher-sounding
weird-out moments of Sgt. Pepper’s and The
White Album. From the strangely engaging
Everything in Its Right Place to the gently ethereal
finale, Motion Picture Soundtrack, Kid A amounts
to an eclectic yet assuredly ambitious record that
completely wrong-foots the successful pop/alt
reputation the band had achieved after The Bends
and OK Computer (much to the chagrin of more
mainstream audiences).
With the ambience of Treefingers, energy of Idioteque and heart-wrenching lyrics of the closing track,
Kid A remains one of the finest discs of the internet
age. Whether or not hipsters continue to appreciate it, it should always keep a deserved place in
the canon of fucking rad albums.
DAVID HESLIN
PHOTOGRAPH: BEACHBACKGROUNDS.COM
The bafflement that tends to afflict the less discerning (and now well and truly ex-) Radiohead fan is
probably the main reason Kid A was and is such
a hit with hipsters. Of course, there will be some
ultra-indie musos who consider the album far too
‘mainstream’ for their delicate tastes, but Kid A
retains it’s fair share of hipster ‘cred’ to this day.
WEDNESDAY, MAY 25TH
STUDENT LOUNGE, 11AM - 2PM
FREE LUNCH
FREE HOT CHOCOLATES
FREE CHAI LATTES
INDOOR SOCCER
MEDITATION
SHOPPING STALLS
EXAM TIPS, TRICKS AND HELP FROM:
THE LIBRARY, THE HUB & STUDENT RIGHTS
FIND US ON FACEBOOK FOR DETAILS:
MONSU CAULFIELD STRESS LESS DAY
3.
1.
er
n
r
co
t
s
i
t
ar
2.
QUESTIONS: RUPERT CARR-GREGG
ANSWERS: MATT DETTMER
3. Untitled
Charcoal on paper (2011)
2. Untitled
Watercolour and ink on paper (2011)
1. Untitled
Video stills (2011)
MATT DETTMER
rner
artistco
corner
Common Exam
Questions
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What If I have
materials I shouldn’t
have?
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2"#,)1$6%?%,$4%#.#*&%#+,-%/#*1'4%)"#&%,*#%;<"=>$9
SUMBIT TO:
esperanto@monsucaulfield.org.au
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MONASH. OUR NEXT EDITION IS ABOUT
YOUR CITY.
MONSU Student Rights
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43