The New Bohemians

2 comments | Oct 19, 11:21 AM | best-of-earl | by Earl Creps

Not long ago, Janet and I had a long talk with a twentysomething man I’ll call Zeke, who manages a local coffee house during the days.

At night he assumes another identity as a musician in an AltCountry band (a genre that he says fuses country music with an alternative rock vibe to create a new sound). I’ve heard his band in a show (and liked their music) so we started asking Zeke questions about culture, music, and spirituality.

The motivation to ask the first question is the difference between mind-blowing learning experiences and just another jolt of caffeine.

What we heard described “Bohemia,” a distributed nation with representatives in most major US cities, but with concentrations in places like the Bay area, Madison Wisconsin, and Austin, Texas. Richard Florida describes bohemian traits in his brilliant book, Cities and the Creative Class.

While no human (especially an altcountry guy) can be reduced to a list, here are a few things that Zeke might want to say to all of us mainstreamers about his “nation,” the tribe of the midtown brick loft dweller:

1. “I love media, but I trust my friends”: A lot of our conversation had to do with music, a natural subject for Zeke. We compared notes on some bands, asking him what he liked (e.g., a group called Welco) and what he did not (anything mainstream). So I asked him how he found out about the latest developments on the music scene. He mentioned websites like Pandora and social networking on MySpace, but confessed that “I ask my friends.” He finds the front edge by relationship more than by research. Zeke’s opinion is consistent with a new survey that finds the younger people assume that if information is important it will reach them, so they are less inclined to pursue it in conventional ways.

2. “I am aware of broadcasting, but I trust narrowcasting”: We joked with Zeke about the importance of what were called “transistor radios” in our adolescence. They made music portable and private preventing our parents from catching us worshiping the Rolling Stones. But Zeke disdains radio, regarding it as pitifully trailing edge, more of a monument to what used to be new than anything else. Moreover, he describes its music as corrupt, over-produced, and fake. Zeke prefers the homegrown music available live in local clubs and online at obscure MySpace sites. Best of all is the music you make yourself.

3. “I spend money, but I trust art”: We learned that anything done just for the money is not to be trusted. In fact, the worst slur that can be applied to music is to call it “commercial.” Authentic things are done for the joy of it, and if the money comes that’s fine. In fact, Zeke went as far as to say that, while he would love his band to become prominent, if it does not, he is content knowing that he had a good time playing local gigs. The rest just has to take care of itself at some point. Art merits trust because it is performed for its own sake, offering a kind of purity that for bohemians has a meaning something like holiness.

4. “I respect excellence, but I trust authenticity”: We discussed the trend among younger adults to have no one musical taste. In other words, the 1000 songs on an iPod play list may feature the two best tunes by 500 groups. Zeke laughed about this “highlight reel” approach and we reminisced about the days when teenagers liked rock or folk, but not both. Zeke pointed out that what holds together the best of the music is its honesty. He is much more concerned that a song be authentic to the artist’s convictions and talent, than a computer-massaged mass market product. He feels that people care much more about this quality than about production values.

5. “I resist church, but I trust Jesus”: To Zeke, the average worship service sounds just like radio: homogenized, over-produced, shallow, and obsolete. Raised in a conservative denomination, he has no desire to be part of this kind of experience. Moreover, he cited the fact that Christian leaders (including those in my fellowship) are his most demanding and complaining customers. “They walk around like they know something you don’t know. But the way they are, I don’t want to know what they know.” Ouch. Zeke finds Jesus very compelling, but cannot imagine finding a spiritual home in the average congregation.

For Zeke, music is a metaphor for so much else in life. What we found refreshing about him was his self-awareness. He knows that millions of people listen to the radio, and that millions attend conventional congregations. But after our talk, I was pretty sure that this altcountry guy and his friends would only fit into an altchurch that meets them on their own terms.

I wonder what that would look like?
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