Aged taste fails to see youth sophistication

Howard Ho
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for more articles by Howard Ho hho@media.ucla.edu
 

Welcome to Springfield, U.S.A., the most indiscriminate city in
the country and setting of the GameCube game, “The Simpsons:
Road Rage.” In it, you’re a Simpsons character driving
a taxi service through the streets of Springfield looking for Apu,
Millhouse, Homer, Reverend Lovejoy, Mr. Flanders and others to give
a ride to. With pre-programmed soundbite jokes and vivid animation,
the game takes you inside the Simpsons world.

I sat watching others play this game at a friend’s house,
smoothly doing car spin moves and taking shortcuts. When my turn
came, I confidently relied on my Megaman, Mario and Tetris skills
to navigate the terrain. After crashing into everything and missing
the destination points, it became clear that this was not the
Nintendo I grew up with.

Indeed, I started to get bored with the games, which involve too
much visual stimuli and pointless victories. I left my
friend’s place to look for a more natural, quiet and
reflective environment, where I could think instead of just react,
and where I could do real things, instead of virtual ones. Then, it
dawned on me, I’m getting old.

I know I’m only 21 and my whole life is ahead of me, but
in terms of my ideas of fun, I’ve become a grouch who shuns
city life in favor of a retirement-like existence of writing poetry
and listening to classical music.

When you were a wee little thing, you dreamed of getting older
and being able to have power and control over your life. Parents
were foes you wanted to topple. Getting older was a blessing since
it meant that you no longer had to hear, “You’re too
young to understand.”

But now, getting old means losing contact with youth culture,
hip trends and the cool. Responsibilities are creeping up and
understanding is strangling the punk or slacker within you.
Maturity means perceiving the sober reality of life, not just a
hyped-up kiddie fantasy. Eventually, you’ll watch a movie
based on its politics, cinematography or director rather than which
star is in it or whether it has explosions and sex (well, maybe
there will always be a place in your heart for explosions and
sex).

Music will be chosen based on experimental or artistic qualities
instead of an unquestioning reliance on TRL’s musical taste.
Scary, huh?

It doesn’t have to be this way. Old people have a bias
when they assume all this youth stuff is inferior in quality or
lacks complexity.

Rap is seen by many as lacking emotional complexity and artistic
merit while academia still fails to explain why its complex rhythms
(yes, they are complex) and postmodern-collage sound captures the
imagination and body gyrations of millions. What classical music
has in stone-etched complexity, rap, jazz and rock has in
improvisational experimental virtuosity.

I’m not suggesting you get rid of all the taste and
sophistication you’ve developed here at UCLA or otherwise. I
don’t want people wholly rejecting the classical arts just
because it’s not the flavor of the month.

I do, however, believe the chic trends provide cultural vitality
you should partake in. When you unveil the mask, you’ll find
you can identify with parts of it and, as bad as some of it is,
there is always a redeeming value.

For example, “Shrek” is a kiddie movie, with its
fairy tale niceties, even though it ventures into adult territory
with criticisms of Disney and an overall message of
self-acceptance. Lots of rap songs sample old, forgotten music and
put them back on the map for a new generation.

Though the adult art world is about purity, the youth
counterpart is about promiscuity, marrying together completely
unrelated things to create a chimera.

Don’t scream when the latest “Hamlet” film
excises much of Shakespeare’s work.

Don’t fret when the latest Oxford dictionaries start
including slang.

Don’t worry if supposed rock music starts incorporating
turntable scratching or funky beats.

What you are witnessing is the beating of culture’s
arteries through the vast, infinite possibilities of fusion. If,
however, you do make a peep about the loss of artistic purity,
don’t be surprised to find some teenybopper give you the evil
eye.

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