I am going to make a fairly large admission, one that could severely tarnish my credibility as a “man of rock” forever: Upon my first listen to Vampire Weekend, I didn’t vomit all over myself. The song I randomly decided to check out was A-Punk, and I ended up giving it three listens in a row. The opening riff, ska-infused rhythm, and lively melody cannot be easily dismissed, even by the hard-core realists found deep in the underground editorial bunkers here at Jose Headquarters. I then went on to give the tune Mansard Roof a shot, and though I was less impressed, it was still fairly passable (if not just a little too damn nice; it feels about as breezy as the yacht trip featured in the video). Oxford Comma is all very well and good if not particularly exciting. Here here. Nicely done, chaps (mild stifled yawn).

And so while the bile stays below the esophagus, never does my head spin, nor does my spine tingle. I am not transported. And so enough said about the nice but not great music by Vampire Weekend.

I have a different bone to pick with these Fine Upstanding Young Men—where in the HELL do they buy their clothes? I realize that many bands over the last decade or more have eschewed the look of rock and roll. The t-shirts and jeans of Weezer slowly came to replace the garish notions of Mötley Crüe, and began to define the look of even the most devoted music fans all over this fairly decent country, much like the more intriguing (yet too hippiesque) style of the Black Crowes used to do. This mild approach to apparel, for many, was a depressing left turn into Dullsville, taking one of the more outrageous and fun aspects of the culture surrounding rock music and dismissing it, much as the earlier detractors of the musical society had done in the days of the dirty hippies. But Vampire Weekend has taken this dismissal to a whole new and shitty level. The self-professed ivy-leaguers have brought the culture of uptight sweaters (knotted securely about their squared shoulders) and anxious khakis into a venue where it has no fucking business whatsoever, and we here at Jose el Retardo are standing up to say NO.

Come on, boys! You look completely ridiculous. I know what you THINK you are doing, but it isn’t having the effect you would like. You are attempting to say to America and all rock-loving nations of the world, “Hey man, take your notions of what a rock band is supposed to be and shove it up your bums. We don’t care what we’re supposed to look like, we’re gonna play our kind of music on our own terms until curfew. Then we shall retire to study Proust for a few more hours, enjoy a healthy snack, send our girlfriends an endearing text, and call it a night. And we don’t care what anyone has to say about it! ROOOCK ON!”

How pathetic. Believe it or not, Alice Cooper looks far more at ease and less self-aware in his clothes than Vampire Weekend look in theirs. Here is a man who knows where he belongs and has zero regrets for having chosen it.

Ironically, I find myself thinking of another recent band made up of the sons of privilege, and how they were somewhat responsible for bringing some of the carefree outrageousness back to rock dress: the Strokes. Now that I think about it, the sound of the Strokes is also far more immediate and arresting. Makes you wonder if there’s a connection, no?

I think the boys of Weekend need to make a decision. Are you going to embrace this culture you’ve chosen to flirt with but make no commitments to, or are you going to go forward with little girls making comments like this from bbmuffin1224 on your YouTube postings: omg thats so cute =]

This entry was posted on Monday, March 10th, 2008 at 3:07 pm and is filed under Music, The Soapbox. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.