In July 1999, British hipster journal Sleazenation published a short article on the "Stormer Youth." Stormers were an element of underground culture running high on the optimism of their time. The rave and industrial scenes gave them a utopian faith in technology and a slightly fascist drive. They were passionate, romantic, and pragmatic. The future was theirs for the building.
The Matrix embodied the Stormer mentality, but no one used the label for the film. In fact, there is no record of the Stormers besides that one article. They disappeared as soon as they were on the scene.
Perhaps the name had something to do with it. Sleazenation defined the Stormers before they had defined themselves. This ability is excellent for cool-hunting but dangerous for a social movement. With the right name, such a trend can be packaged before it has any effect. The Matrix strongly influenced pop culture, of course, but there was something posthumous about it. Its blend of cyberpunk, industrial militancy and computer technology felt like a neat summary of the ‘90s avant-garde.
By now that entire package is a collection of clichés, and in the years since youth culture has slowly moved away from technology. The nostalgic purity of garage rock is an obvious example. So is the new New Wave, with its most basic synth beats. Even the Internet has calmed down to its core media, words and pictures. People want to connect and share, with a minimum of Flash-y distractions.
These are broad signs of a more widespread movement. Youth culture has turned inward, defining itself through value rather than style. This is remarkable: belief and sincerity are returning for a generation that swore them off altogether.
It is apparent in a broad spectrum of music. Godspeed You! Black Emperor has found tremendous underground success and hatched several offshoots. Their music is epic and heartwrenching, a crescendo of romantic emotion . Pop with the same spirit is awkward and mawkish. Godspeed is going for something deeper. Their audience is too.
Animal Collective’s audience share the spirit. You attend their shows to be moved: reports have people kissing passionately right up front or going into deep trances. Sunn o))) has a similar effect. They’ve pushed doom metal’s trappings far enough to transcend camp and make it more challenging. People see them to share the endurance and ecstasy they demand.
As these acts push rock’s boundaries, so hip-hop pushes its own. Indie hip-hop is an urban grassroots, actively working on communities and networks. Dave Chappelle’s Block Party is a prime, big-screen example. Portland has its own bloc(k) parties, and local MCs are working with political groups. Tim Clorius is trying to fuse graffiti and city-sanctioned beautification. Beyond “civic engagement,” this is an organic social process at work.
Our generation rejected everything, and found itself with nothing to call its own. Now, in response, we are opening back up. This is a slow and cautious process. It must be on our own terms. Shared experiences are where those terms are set: concerts such as Sunn o))) offer us emotional bedrock on which to connect. The resulting movement is simply a social one. It has the passion and pragmatism of the Stormers, but no such easy name. It will be all the more effective without one.
