“Scenesters feeling oppressed for being called ‘scenesters,’” tweeted Becky Lang this afternoon, setting off a debate over whether or not “scenester” is a compliment.
Whether or not it’s a compliment, it’s something that certain people manifestly are. We’ve got ’em in Minneapolis, and you’ve doubtless got ’em wherever you live, in whatever “scenes” you’re a part of. High schools and colleges have tons of ’em.
You know who they are. They’re the people who are always there—who, in fact, partly define where there is. If there’s something cool going on, you’re likely to see them not just being there but being all up in that thing’s business: posting pictures from backstage, tweeting about the people they just saw, jumping into photo booths. You can’t keep up with them. They’re everywhere.
“Scenester” feels like a slam, because it implies that you’re (a) trying to be cool by hanging out at the cool events and/or (b) not bringing anything else (music, art, media coverage) to the table. No one really wants to be called a scenester. But I say, own it! Let’s take “scenester” back! If being a scenester was easy, everybody would be one.
Am I a scenester? No doubt a lot of people would say so—a local magazine once named me Minneapolis’s most ubiquitous person. But there are people who are ahead of me: who know all about tons of parties I don’t, who have done drugs with internationally-known musicians who don’t know who I am, who knock off three or four events in a night when I just make it to one or two. I feel like calling myself a “scenester” would almost be presumptuous, but if you want to call me a scenester, I’m cool with that.
Why? Because scenesters help make scenes happen. They’re out there seven nights a week supporting events ranging from packed sell-outs to three-person dance parties—and a lot of them are involved in planning and promoting the events. They’re the people you know when you don’t know anybody else. They’re the people who pay attention to what’s happening where, and when, and why. They’re the people who help keep musicians and artists and party-planners from feeling like they’re working in a vacuum. And they’re just plain fun—how could you not be, doing all that cool stuff?
Sure, scenesters want to hang out with cool people. Don’t you? When you see photos of them with that British dubstep guy whose album you’re listening to on repeat in the privacy of your laptop, aren’t you kind of jealous? They’re living the dream!
Sure, some scenesters are occasionally cliquey and rude, but no scenester has ever brought her elbow down on my hand because I touched the stage too close to “her spot,” or posted condescending comments on my reviews, or told me to get my head out of my ass. The non-scenesters have those bases amply covered, which is why next time you see me at an event, I’ll probably be hanging out with the scenesters—and, yeah, feeling pretty awesome about it.
Photo by Jonas Photo (Creative Commons)
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