Today, it's all about the selfie.
When I was a kid, we wore our causes on our backs, wrote them in our songs, sang them at our protests, and you knew where we stood by the length of our hair. You knew who we were the second you saw us. "The man" or "the establishment" or "they" knew who we were, what we stood for immediately. We had a uniform, a way of dressing, a way of singing, a way of talking, a way of announcing ourselves.
And yet, we were so sure we were independent, original, separate from each other in how we "expressed ourselves." My hair was long, parted in the center, hanging down past my bra strap. When I wore one. My jeans had graffiti on them, including a signed hallway pass. I often wore my boyfriend's clothes. I looked like every other teenage girl.
If you didn't play guitar, you had a friend who did, and you gathered 'round it and sang protest songs. We started out with civil rights, then graduated to protesting the war in Viet Nam. We chained ourselves to fences, we rode together in VWs to marches and sit-ins, we made signs and tie-dyed t-shirts and talked about change and what was wrong with the world.
Our music forked in two directions. The music of protest: Peter, Paul and Mary, the Weavers, Janis Ian, Joanie Mitchell, Judy Collins, Bob Dylan, et al. And the music of the drug culture. Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, the Doors, Traffic, so much more. And then there were the others who went back and forth, weaving in and out of it all. There was such great music back then!
I see those same teenagers on Facebook now; those who are still alive. They seem to live inside those memories. Some seem not to have gotten past high school. They spend way too much time talking about what was, as though their best days happened before they turned 20.
For now, I really enjoy the nostalgia of the music; I still think it's some of the best music ever. And I lament the fact that no one today writes protest songs. They have magic in them. They move people; they move governments. They carry the message.
I guess those days are gone. No one pays attention to what kids are doing anymore. Except marketers.
And yet, we were so sure we were independent, original, separate from each other in how we "expressed ourselves." My hair was long, parted in the center, hanging down past my bra strap. When I wore one. My jeans had graffiti on them, including a signed hallway pass. I often wore my boyfriend's clothes. I looked like every other teenage girl.
If you didn't play guitar, you had a friend who did, and you gathered 'round it and sang protest songs. We started out with civil rights, then graduated to protesting the war in Viet Nam. We chained ourselves to fences, we rode together in VWs to marches and sit-ins, we made signs and tie-dyed t-shirts and talked about change and what was wrong with the world.
Our music forked in two directions. The music of protest: Peter, Paul and Mary, the Weavers, Janis Ian, Joanie Mitchell, Judy Collins, Bob Dylan, et al. And the music of the drug culture. Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, the Doors, Traffic, so much more. And then there were the others who went back and forth, weaving in and out of it all. There was such great music back then!
I see those same teenagers on Facebook now; those who are still alive. They seem to live inside those memories. Some seem not to have gotten past high school. They spend way too much time talking about what was, as though their best days happened before they turned 20.
For now, I really enjoy the nostalgia of the music; I still think it's some of the best music ever. And I lament the fact that no one today writes protest songs. They have magic in them. They move people; they move governments. They carry the message.
I guess those days are gone. No one pays attention to what kids are doing anymore. Except marketers.