The Nicemodernist Manifesto

"I'd like to perfect the art of being studiously aloof
Like life is just a boring chore and I'm living proof." -Ani DiFranco

In New York City in 2005, "cool" is synonymous with "cooler than you." Or perhaps the word I want to use is "hip." Whether it's ironic or unironic, the word "hipster" connotes informedness, being on the cutting edge, knowing and being able to parse out the culturally relevant and great from the pedestrian and lame. The stereotypical hipster is a Williamsburg denizen who hangs out in galleries, wears ratty thrift-store goods (Members Only jackets and trucker hats, anybody?), listens to indie rock (however he/she defines it), and holds forth competently on all manner of world issues, large and small. Scratch that, large and infinitesimally small.

In some ways, it's great to finally live in a city and an era where nerds drive the culture. It means that New York is full of thinky, creative, interesting people and things, and there is always something new to see and parse. The downside, however, as any hipster, hipster wannabe, or person who considers themselves above hipsters will tell you, is that with the cultural smorgasbord comes endless pairs of discerning eyes with sharp tongues and critical attitudes.

The hipster mystique is part holdover from the disaffected days of grunge and part embracement of arcane factoids as cultural currency. So with hipsterism comes a veneer of affected negativity. To be cool nowadays is to be a critic. You understand things to the point of dismantling them, be they bands, authors, films, or your fellow hipsters. And in order to continuously reassert your cool status, you must always come across as though you know more than anybody else.

Take Jonathan Safran Foer's new book. In the weeks prior to the release of Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, reviews were generally laudatory. GQ called it a "riotous and at times courageous book" and a "cerebral roller coaster." Then the book was published, and became successful, and everyone began talking about it, and that was when the reviews started to get bad. The New York Press even did a cover story about how bad they thought the book was, under the clever title of "Extremely Cloying and Incredibly False". This was only one of a sudden rash of bad press. Was this an instance of someone finally pointing out that the emperor was naked, or was it an attempt to derail the buzz in an attempt to one-up Foer? Wherefore the sudden 180 in public opinion? Granted, I'm a well-known conspiracy theorist so I could be way off-base here (and doubtless 15 people will jump up to tell me so as soon as I hit "post"), but I sure felt like it was cool to like him and uncool five minutes after the rest of the world caught on. Me, I liked him then and I like him now.

Oftentimes this sense of "I knew about it before you did" leads to massive pissing contests, and more often than not it leads to people liking or disliking things for the wrong reasons. On the flip side of the Foer coin, how many times has an absolutely terrible album or book gotten freakishly championed by some influential critic or another, and then, if you think it's terrible, obviously that's because you don't understand it. (I loved the writing in Rick Moody's Believer piece about the Danielson Famile. It was honest and heartfelt and intellectually stimulating. The band he champions, I'm told, is really and truly terrible. Proof positive that you don't have to agree with something to like the way in which it's presented, but that's another diatribe for another meditation on nicemodernism.)

The culture of criticism, unfortunately, also leads to meta-hipsterdom, in which the concept of being hip itself is scoffed at. As soon as a trend hits the mainstream media, you must declare it over and immediately make fun of anybody who's still doing it. To be hip these days is to be concerned with what you are putting out there, and how you come across as the most informed and erudite, not how what you are putting into the world affects others and makes your life and theirs better. If someone defines themselves as cool, it is the other self-defined cool person's job to determine why they are not.

Therefore, to counter the negativity, the self-referentiality, the perpetual breaking-down without building-up, I am starting a countermovement. This countermovement shall henceforth be known as nicemodernism.

What is nicemodernism? Well, it's a form of post-postmodernism that says that nice is the new snark. I'm not talking fakey nice, I'm not talking ironic nice, I'm talking about the importance of being earnest. I'm talking about liking things because they bring you pleasure, and focusing on the things you like.

Nicemodernism involves throwing away your ideals of being The Coolest Of Them All. It rejects snark. Snark laughs at. Nicemodernism laughs with. Nicemodernism is silly. Nicemodernists seek to understand the culture in which they live, but rather than giving you a laundry list of the things they do not like, and phrasing said laundry list in ways that wankily amuse them, the nicemodernist will emphasize the things they do like, and the reasons why those things bring them delight.

I now declare that it is cool to bake cookies. It is cool to ride bikes and eat ice cream and run through the sprinkler. It is cool to bring your mother flowers. It is cool to hug people and dance at concerts and laugh at other people's jokes. If that's what you want to do. If that's what makes you happy.

The recent upsurgence in knitting as a hobby for twentysomethings? That's very nicemodernist. It's creative, it's comfortable, it's relaxing, and it makes lovely gifts for people. More stitch, less bitch.

Drinking PBR? Not nicemodernist. Drinking an arcane $15 imported lager? Not nicemodernist. Drinking the beer you think tastes the best (which could, I suppose, be PBR or the $15 lager, but probably isn't)? That's nicemodernist.

Listening to The Shaggs? Not nicemodernist. Listening to the Eagles, because you grew up with their music and genuinely feel an attachment to their songs regardless of the fact that your friends think they suck? Very nicemodernist.

I'm not intimating that nicemodernists are square, or mainstream, or generally lame. I'm not saying we all drink a glass of milk and go to bed at 9 here. Nicemodernists drink, carouse, rock out, and have sex...if that's what they enjoy doing. They do not, however, do anything for the sake of keeping up appearances, especially when that appearance is one of superiority in any arena, be it the sorts of things that were venerated among the popular kids in high school or the rebellious adult-world triumphs over same by the nerderati in the cultural epicenter.

The current trend in the hip world seems to be: learn as much as you can about something someone else likes so that you can pick it apart and tell the world why you don't like it. The nicemodernist spin is to learn as much as you can about something you like, and pass it on to people to enrich their lives. Instead of flaunting your superior knowledge, you offer it up to others, and spread the knowledge you derived joy from, in case they, too, can derive joy from it. Don't playa-hate, collaborate. Nicemodernists embrace glee, be it their own or that of others.

So if you dare to love the good in culture, take up the mantle of nicemodernism, and because you care about your friends and think it will make their lives better, tell them as well. Maybe bring them some pie, too, while you're at it.

If, y'know, that's what you enjoy.