How fast are we losing tiki? - General Tiki

C christiki295 Member LA-2547 mls east Hawaii &5500 Easter Is Joined: Apr 09, 2003 Posts: 3837	C christiki295 Posted posted on Tue, Sep 13, 2005 7:48 PM [i]On 2005-09-09 11:52, pappythesailor wrote: Remember the swing music revival a few years back? I thought it was to good to be true then and it was. Today pop music is worse than ever but for a brief moment, you could hear music that employed musicians on the radio before that whole thing busted. (Plus, did anyone like Big Bad VooDoo Daddy's second album?) Is this the same thing? Does this tiki revival have legs? Tikibars, in a very well-thought out response, previously addressed the very same issue (using the exact same analogy): "When bad things happen to good scenes or - Hip today, goon tomorrow I like to say that popular culture is cyclical; what I mean is that cultural icons like to reassert themselves periodically in almost completely predictable patterns. Every few years, the mainstream becomes aware of a small group of people preserving a largely forgotten trend, fad, or lifestyle, which is then scooped up, repackaged, and sold in a new incarnation to the modern-day consumer. Those of us who are interested in any of the myriad niches of middle 20th century culture have watched this happen several times over: witness the rockabilly revival in the early 1980’s, the ska revivals in both the late 1970’s and early 1990’s, and the swing revival of the mid-late 1990’s. All of these subcultures began with a small group of hardcore followers who were genuinely passionate about their music, their mode of dress, and even the beverages associated with their peer groups (whiskey, Guinness, and either water or martini - depending on the voracity of your dancing - respectively). All of these cultures built a steady underground following, reached a critical mass, and were then pounced upon as the latest fad by the mainstream, before fading back into relative obscurity. Die-hard pundits of these ‘scenes’ were left scratching their heads, puzzling over a conundrum unique to the latter half of the 20th century: “I was into it before it was cool, and then when it became cool in the mainstream it got really lame, and now the mainstream has moved on to something new. So is it ‘safe’ to like it again, or has it been permanently ‘ruined’? Will I look like a fool, or a nerd, or someone hopelessly behind the times (oh the irony!) if I publicly admit to liking it now?”. This question may sound silly to some, and conceited to others, and irrelevant to still others, but I’ll bet there are more than a few Re-Vue readers who have had to struggle with this at some point. We all like to say “I do what I do and I don’t give a fig what any one thinks of me”. Well, that sounds mature, grounded, and well-balanced when we say it, but how many of the people who say this really mean it? Face it: we all care, to a degree, what others think of us, whether we admit it or not. If someone wants to listen to a type of music, wear a style of clothes, or furnish their home in some way that the general public hasn’t become aware of, but that makes this individual happy, then he ought to be able to. If this makes him a little odd to the squares in mainstream society, well, that’s their problem, right? Right. The problem really begins after any given subculture breaks into the mainstream, runs it’s course and then becomes passé to even the most clueless conservatives. At this point, one stops being a quirky individual with unique and interesting tastes (be they rockabilly, bondage, Tiki, or Tolkien), and is suddenly transformed into a dopey has-been who is jumping on last year’s fad, too slow to get hip to the new thing. The people one meets day to day don’t know (or care) if you have been into this ambiguous ‘it’ for perhaps a decade; they just think you’re failing miserably in an attempt to be cool. It is easy to be a trend-setter, but it stinks being a has-been, especially when you actually haven’t changed a bit... and when public tastes have shifted the average person’s conception of you from ‘unique’ or ‘interesting’ to ‘loser’ in a year’s time, it is an annoying thing to cope with. After a few years, the public forgets completely, and a new underground begins to develop. This is where the cycle I mentioned at the beginning of this article comes into play. If you truly love something, care about something, and have spent a portion of your life becoming part of a community of people with similar interests, it is really hard to watch the mainstream media swoop down, decide that your little world is the ‘next big thing’ and then ruin it. But does the fact that something has become popular ruin it? Isn’t it better if something does become popular? If our favorite musical idiom or social subculture suddenly becomes accepted by the masses, doesn’t that mean more accessibility to goods/ music/ clothes/whatever, more choices of places to go, and less instances of having to deal with the ‘you’re a freak’ attitude? Yes, and no. The statements in the above paragraph are true. But this convenient access to goods, entertainment, and acceptance comes at a price. You see, in order for the media to popularize something with the masses, they have to water it down first in order to make it accessible to the lowest common denominator. In watering something down, it is robbed of it’s essence, it loses it’s character, and is denied much of what makes it interesting or unique. It becomes quantified and commodified, packaged in a shiny pretty box for sale to those who never had the cultural awareness to discover interesting things for themselves. Most people are content to surf the fads each year, and be told what to listen to, what to wear, and what to drive. Underground things don’t become lame because they go mainstream - they must be made lame first in order to go mainstream. Our media is exceedingly adept at this, to the extent that the transition is almost invisible to all but the most keen observer. The most recent example is the swing revival a few years ago. I know a great number of people who have been into authentic vintage swing music since the 1980’s or earlier. I personally got hip to Louis Jordan in about 1990, and have been hooked ever since. Others felt the same way, the cult built and built, and what happened? After existing happily and building organically over the course of a decade or so, the media finlaly spotted it and seized it. Almost overnight, prices on 1940’s clothing destabilized and spiraled out of control, and for most people under thirty, swing as a musical idiom is now defined by “Zoot Suit Riot”. Need I say more? Granted, we live in a free society, and newcomers to any given scene are usually warmly welcomed. The problem here isn’t a social group expanding in a natural manner, it is the fact that these same social groups are being pillaged for whatever makes them unique, and having their essence stolen in order for corporate culture to sell the consumer the Next Big Thing. Like a village being sacked by Vikings, little is left after the fact. So what can we do about it next time? Not a darned thing. We just have to batten down the hatches and weather the storm. Unfortunately (you all knew I was going to get to this subject sooner or later!), the ‘next big thing’ is Tiki. I began collecting Tiki in about 1988, and I decided I had to devote an entire room in my house to my collection in about 1996. I met a scattered group of kindred spirits who were also interested in Tiki, and a little ‘Bamboo Crew’ began to develop here in Chicago. The ball started rolling quicker: in the past three or four years, I have seen many more people begin to build Tiki zones into their own homes. Exotica music - the soundtrack of Tiki - made a brief appearance as part of the lounge revival a few years ago, and soon after, Aloha shirts came back into mainstream fashion. In the past few years, I have charted a steady increase in the presence of Tiki in cartoons, television programs, web sites, antique malls, magazines, and purveyors of sundry and odd kitsch. As Tiki mugs went from fifty-cent thrift store items to $20 internet auction collectibles, unfriendly competitions developed among members of the Bamboo Crew, and the group splintered by mid-2000. My own web site (launched in 1994) regularly exceeds my bandwidth limit, and my book, Tiki Road Trip, has already sold a truckload of copies... and it won’t even be out until this April. Truly, the second coming of Tiki - a popular culture icon so long-lived that it’s original incarnation lasted from the late 1920’s through the mid 1970’s, encompassing (in their entirety) all of the original swing, rockabilly, lounge, and mod eras - has arrived.

[i]On 2005-09-09 11:52, pappythesailor wrote:

Remember the swing music revival a few years back? I thought it was to good to be true then and it was. Today pop music is worse than ever but for a brief moment, you could hear music that employed musicians on the radio before that whole thing busted. (Plus, did anyone like Big Bad VooDoo Daddy's second album?) Is this the same thing? Does this tiki revival have legs?

Tikibars, in a very well-thought out response, previously addressed the very same issue (using the exact same analogy):

"When bad things happen to good scenes

or -

Hip today, goon tomorrow

I like to say that popular culture is cyclical; what I mean is that cultural icons like to reassert themselves periodically in almost completely predictable patterns. Every few years, the mainstream becomes aware of a small group of people preserving a largely forgotten trend, fad, or lifestyle, which is then scooped up, repackaged, and sold in a new incarnation to the modern-day consumer.

Those of us who are interested in any of the myriad niches of middle 20th century culture have watched this happen several times over: witness the rockabilly revival in the early 1980’s, the ska revivals in both the late 1970’s and early 1990’s, and the swing revival of the mid-late 1990’s. All of these subcultures began with a small group of hardcore followers who were genuinely passionate about their music, their mode of dress, and even the beverages associated with their peer groups (whiskey, Guinness, and either water or martini - depending on the voracity of your dancing - respectively).

All of these cultures built a steady underground following, reached a critical mass, and were then pounced upon as the latest fad by the mainstream, before fading back into relative obscurity. Die-hard pundits of these ‘scenes’ were left scratching their heads, puzzling over a conundrum unique to the latter half of the 20th century: “I was into it before it was cool, and then when it became cool in the mainstream it got really lame, and now the mainstream has moved on to something new. So is it ‘safe’ to like it again, or has it been permanently ‘ruined’? Will I look like a fool, or a nerd, or someone hopelessly behind the times (oh the irony!) if I publicly admit to liking it now?”.

This question may sound silly to some, and conceited to others, and irrelevant to still others, but I’ll bet there are more than a few Re-Vue readers who have had to struggle with this at some point. We all like to say “I do what I do and I don’t give a fig what any one thinks of me”. Well, that sounds mature, grounded, and well-balanced when we say it, but how many of the people who say this really mean it? Face it: we all care, to a degree, what others think of us, whether we admit it or not. If someone wants to listen to a type of music, wear a style of clothes, or furnish their home in some way that the general public hasn’t become aware of, but that makes this individual happy, then he ought to be able to. If this makes him a little odd to the squares in mainstream society, well, that’s their problem, right?

Right.

The problem really begins after any given subculture breaks into the mainstream, runs it’s course and then becomes passé to even the most clueless conservatives. At this point, one stops being a quirky individual with unique and interesting tastes (be they rockabilly, bondage, Tiki, or Tolkien), and is suddenly transformed into a dopey has-been who is jumping on last year’s fad, too slow to get hip to the new thing. The people one meets day to day don’t know (or care) if you have been into this ambiguous ‘it’ for perhaps a decade; they just think you’re failing miserably in an attempt to be cool. It is easy to be a trend-setter, but it stinks being a has-been, especially when you actually haven’t changed a bit... and when public tastes have shifted the average person’s conception of you from ‘unique’ or ‘interesting’ to ‘loser’ in a year’s time, it is an annoying thing to cope with.

After a few years, the public forgets completely, and a new underground begins to develop. This is where the cycle I mentioned at the beginning of this article comes into play. If you truly love something, care about something, and have spent a portion of your life becoming part of a community of people with similar interests, it is really hard to watch the mainstream media swoop down, decide that your little world is the ‘next big thing’ and then ruin it.

But does the fact that something has become popular ruin it?
Isn’t it better if something does become popular?
If our favorite musical idiom or social subculture suddenly becomes accepted by the masses, doesn’t that mean more accessibility to goods/ music/ clothes/whatever, more choices of places to go, and less instances of having to deal with the ‘you’re a freak’ attitude?

Yes, and no. The statements in the above paragraph are true. But this convenient access to goods, entertainment, and acceptance comes at a price. You see, in order for the media to popularize something with the masses, they have to water it down first in order to make it accessible to the lowest common denominator. In watering something down, it is robbed of it’s essence, it loses it’s character, and is denied much of what makes it interesting or unique. It becomes quantified and commodified, packaged in a shiny pretty box for sale to those who never had the cultural awareness to discover interesting things for themselves. Most people are content to surf the fads each year, and be told what to listen to, what to wear, and what to drive. Underground things don’t become lame because they go mainstream - they must be made lame first in order to go mainstream. Our media is exceedingly adept at this, to the extent that the transition is almost invisible to all but the most keen observer.

The most recent example is the swing revival a few years ago. I know a great number of people who have been into authentic vintage swing music since the 1980’s or earlier. I personally got hip to Louis Jordan in about 1990, and have been hooked ever since. Others felt the same way, the cult built and built, and what happened? After existing happily and building organically over the course of a decade or so, the media finlaly spotted it and seized it. Almost overnight, prices on 1940’s clothing destabilized and spiraled out of control, and for most people under thirty, swing as a musical idiom is now defined by “Zoot Suit Riot”. Need I say more?

Granted, we live in a free society, and newcomers to any given scene are usually warmly welcomed. The problem here isn’t a social group expanding in a natural manner, it is the fact that these same social groups are being pillaged for whatever makes them unique, and having their essence stolen in order for corporate culture to sell the consumer the Next Big Thing. Like a village being sacked by Vikings, little is left after the fact.

So what can we do about it next time?

Not a darned thing.

We just have to batten down the hatches and weather the storm.

Unfortunately (you all knew I was going to get to this subject sooner or later!), the ‘next big thing’ is Tiki.

I began collecting Tiki in about 1988, and I decided I had to devote an entire room in my house to my collection in about 1996. I met a scattered group of kindred spirits who were also interested in Tiki, and a little ‘Bamboo Crew’ began to develop here in Chicago. The ball started rolling quicker: in the past three or four years, I have seen many more people begin to build Tiki zones into their own homes. Exotica music - the soundtrack of Tiki - made a brief appearance as part of the lounge revival a few years ago, and soon after, Aloha shirts came back into mainstream fashion. In the past few years, I have charted a steady increase in the presence of Tiki in cartoons, television programs, web sites, antique malls, magazines, and purveyors of sundry and odd kitsch. As Tiki mugs went from fifty-cent thrift store items to $20 internet auction collectibles, unfriendly competitions developed among members of the Bamboo Crew, and the group splintered by mid-2000. My own web site (launched in 1994) regularly exceeds my bandwidth limit, and my book, Tiki Road Trip, has already sold a truckload of copies... and it won’t even be out until this April. Truly, the second coming of Tiki - a popular culture icon so long-lived that it’s original incarnation lasted from the late 1920’s through the mid 1970’s, encompassing (in their entirety) all of the original swing, rockabilly, lounge, and mod eras - has arrived.

Post #186462 by christiki295 on Tue, Sep 13, 2005 7:48 PM