The Art Snob Archive

Ethics - Nov 17 2006

Within the realm of art snobbery, there exists a distinct code of ethics that works to attach a certain level of prestige to the profession. This set of ‘rules’, if you will, prevents the corruption of what we consider to be ‘real art’ by lower forms of commercial entertainment. Accordingly, the more experimental, the more overtly intellectual, and the less well known become adopted into an art snob canon that cannot be infiltrated by the products of popular consumption.

Indeed, certain exceptions are made for the purpose of irony and hipster kitsch, but even this is restricted to the extreme: for instance, wearing a 90210 shirt is a far more acceptable parody of mainstream culture than a Green Day belt. For the most part, art snobs must avoid anything that their peers in the unwashed masses may celebrate.

Ethics allow the arts snob to feel safe and secure inside a tight knit community of art galleries, crappy bars and record stores that actually sell records. It gives us a chance to thank god that our faux oriental carpets are not being sullied by Nike Shox and Lugz.

Ever so often, however, the lines become fuzzy due to an unfortunate disregard for the integrity of this artistic society. As such, I would like to direct the following open letter to a certain group of English lads who recently forgot about the special place they held in elitist society.

Dear Bloc Party: You are a London-based post-punk outfit, beloved for your art rock, your sharp beats, dissonant guitars and fantastic fashion sense. You have delighted our indie hearts with Silent Alarm, one of the best albums of the past few years, as well as through a history of collaborations with such magnificent creatures as M83, Ladytron and Pretty Girls Make Graves.

You’re previous Toronto appearances have seen sold out shows at the Docks as well as on Olympic Island, resulting in monumental arty-kid singalongs. As such, there is no apparent reason for you to be selling your soul to the devil.

However, in September you announced that you would be touring North America with the Kings of pop-punk MTV indulgence, Las Vegas pretty boys Panic! at the Disco. Why did you do this, Bloc Party? Why? Don’t say you like their music, because we know you don’t. There’s a reason you sound like Joy Division and not Fall Out Boy.

Listen. We held our breaths as the OC pillaged your catalogue to make Marissa seem deeper, as well as that time we heard “So Here We Are” on a Saturn commercial. But now you are forcing your fans to sacrifice their pride by going to Ticketmaster and having this conversation:

“Hi, I’d like Bloc Party tickets.”

“Oh, you mean Panic! At the Disco tickets?”

“uhhh…yeah. Could you not say that so loud please?”

Finally, as if this was not enough, you allow your drummer to collapse his lung just DAYS before the Toronto show, forcing you to withdraw from the tour on the shortest possible notice. Ticketmaster, assuming everyone loves Panic, does not send out notification of this cancellation. So, stripped of their pride and dignity, your fans find themselves standing at the back of the Ricoh Colliseum, crying quietly to themselves and wondering why an annoying little man in a circus costume is dancing around on stage instead of their beloved Bloc Party.

Well, at least now I don’t feel so bad downloading your new album, which leaked last week three months before its release date. That’s karma for you, boys. Perhaps next time you’ll understand the seriousness of elitist ethics.

posted by HLL @ Saturday, November 18, 2006