Top 10 Signs You’re A Self-Hating Hipster


The word and definition hipster is as worn out and confused as a twelve year old obsessed with Insane Clown Posse, but lacking the funds for the face paint, and having to make do with house paint he found in the basement, thus subjecting himself to an insane amount of noxious fumes. Who knows what a hipster is anymore. Is it someone that listens to obscure bands? Someone that wears crazy outfits they picked up at a Vinnies? Or has it come down to being a self-centred, attention-seeking cosmic caricature that hates every moment of their life because of the extremities they engage upon themselves, but perpetuate the image of being a hipster because it’s all they know? If you find yourself nodding along to the final categorical definition of hipster, read on:

10. You create a blog, adamantly demand that it’s a domain

So Tumblr gives you hard ons, with all the cute anarchy slogans and pictures of people smoking bongs. So you get one. But don’t let anyone tell you it’s a blog. It ain’t a fucking blog. This is a serious domain. Not a blog, and certainly not a website. This is where serious issues, such as government corruption, asylum seekers, and political hypocrisy are examined and ravaged. On Tumblr.

9. You use Friendster

Man, fuck Facebook. All those annoying ads, and pictures of high school friends enjoying a normal existence. Fuck. That. You don’t give a shit that Kings of Leon are playing a show soon, or that horny, sexy Christian singles are in your area. And the alternatives aren’t much better. Twitter is such an encapsulation of the ADHD generation, and you don’t have the artistic creativity required for Instagram. So you use Friendster, the only social media service that really cares about its patrons: pedophiles that like to cover all the bases. And you.

8. You stop going to see new bands to find out about newer bands

Wanna go see that new band Disgusting People? You keen for that White Hex show? Shit, Multiple Man are coming to town, we gotta go! Nah, you reply, intently focused on the screen of your MacBook Pro. Those guys aren’t new enough. I only want to see a band play their first show. Of course, when it comes time to see a band play their first show, say DMA’s or Fermunted, you’re too busy scrawling through Soundcloud, looking for demos  of the side project that the guy from Deer Tick said he’d post.

7. You slit your wrists with broken shards of vinyl

Did you hear that new Sebadoh record? Jesus Christ. This calls for some of The Cure and The Jesus & Mary Chain. No, not listening to those songs, that would be counterproductive. It’s time for some good ol’ fashioned wrist-slitting. But razor blades are old-fashioned. You want something that has pain and suffering intrinsically written into itself. Cue shards of goth records. ‘The Weeping Song’ never sounded so good, or bloody.

6. You burn issues of Maximum Rock N Roll and The Village Voice for warmth

Living in New York/San Francisco/London/Berlin/Paris is fucking cold. So you’ll take a leaflet out of the book of your ancestors, and burn shit for warmth. Sure, you might burn down you’re overpriced apartment ($800 a week for a one-bedroom), but the way the flames lick those articles about Sonic Youth is just so tantalising. Also, what else are you gonna do? Turn on the heater? That would be way to easy.

5. You drink moonshine

Pabst Blue Ribbon has become a thing of the past, and chucking down VB’s never seemed quaint enough. Hence the moonshine. It’s a great, homegrown alternative that covers all the hipster bases. It’s cheap, it’s definitely local, and best of all, it’s completely impractical. But it tastes so revoltingly disgusting and no one else is doing it! So yeah, not being able to feel your lips for the next three days and alcohol poisoning are pretty much the only negatives.

4. You exclusively listen to (insert ridiculous obscure genre here)

Former ‘niche’ genres like shoegaze are slotted into the iTunes genre section, it’s time for change.  You can’t have a bunch of obscure genres that you pick and choose from-that would be ignorant. No, you need to exclusively listen to something that has about four or five bands attached to it, and is known by only you and those four or five bands. And you can’t listen to anything else. Brazilian post-afrobeat? Sure. Japanese proto-piano-punk? Yeah, that’ll do. Prog-trance with flourishes of big beat, from the late 1980’s Berlin scene? Get fucked, that’s more mainstream than wearing a Joy Division shirt at this point.

3. You use scraps of Vonnegut Jr. and David Foster Wallace as tissues

Being a self-hating hipster is hard, what with all the hate and hipsterisms, so there’s a lot of crying involved. But fuck that normal tissue bullshit. You’ll sit in your bathroom, and tear out pages from ‘Cat’s Cradle’ and ‘Brief Interviews with Hideous Men’ to dry your salty emotions. Because strong men also cry. Strong men. Also. Cry.

2. Listening to Nothing aka music that just hasn’t been created yet

You scrawl through the urban jungle, watching your wasteland be populated by chumps that only want to watch/listen to The National, or Schoolboy Q, or Unknown Mortal Orchestra. Not even the sacred realm of old-school hipster safety deposits are safe, as it seems like every twelvie now owns a Soft Boys record. So you’ve taken a leaf out of old mate John Cage’s book, and starting listening to nothing on your headphones. But it’s not really nothing-it’s the sound of music that hasn’t been created yet (TM).

1. You spend all your money on flannels and fake eyewear

Coachella? Meredith? A case of Resch’s? Sorry guys, you’ve spent literally all your money on flannels and fake eyewear. And look, there’s an admitted downside. You’re scrounging around for cents just to make rent, and you’ve had to give up on luxuries like food and utilities. Even your iPhone has become a glorified torch light, because you don’t have the money to pay for the phone bill. But on the plus side, you’ve got a closet bursting with cross-patterned wool shirts and glasses that don’t help your eyesight.


Album Review: Parading-Swallowing a Sunflower

The last time I went to a parade, I fucking hated it. I mean, let’s face it, parades fucking suck. If there were personal Hell’s being devised, mine would just be an endlessly long line of floats and twirling acrobats and the Mayor and shit. God, it would be despicably awful. I would probably go insane.

However, as of last month, the word ‘Parade’ found itself with a saving grace in the form of a post-rock band from Melbourne deciding that the word shouldn’t be associated with the shit sandwich that is a normal parade. Admittedly, Parading (the band) have been around a lot longer than ‘last month-ish’, but their record ‘Swallowing a Sunflower’ came out then, and its my duty to ensure that the small fraction of the internet that stumbles upon this website know that the word parading shouldn’t be immediately tied down and owned by egotistical twats that want to shut down streets in honour of some bullshit made up shenanigans.


First up, it should be said that Parading are unique as fuck. Their sound is like the post-punk of the 80’s accidentally got caught in a The Fly sort of contraption with British shoegaze, and has been living in a dark corner of their basement ever since. 2011 was the first time this creature ever stepped into the realm outside of darkness, and ever since its been getting appraised because its a fucking awesome combination of all things awesome.

But enough of my terrible comparisons, and onto the record itself. There isn’t a bad song on here, not a single one. It doesn’t seem possible, but tear-stained rock doesn’t get boring with Parading. It just drones on and on with total, unkempt beauty, droning away with unparalleled greatness. There’s that dolewave vibe coming through a bit on the songs, similar to The Ocean Party, but the loudness of the tracks, and the weird, bent vibes of the guitars and bass ensure that your brain is jailed by the music.

‘Swallowing a Sunflower’ is an apt name for the record, as the songs are kind of adding a black, gothic nature to really beautiful topics. ‘Country Song’ plods along with an acoustic guitar on one hand, just being all dainty and shit, but the undercurrent of echoing adds a dismal damper to it that elevates the track to having a fuck-tonne of tension. Same goes with ‘Dreaming About Killing’, a beautiful melody that’s sliced and diced with an overload of fuzz and morally decrepit lyric. Even the cover of ‘Factory’, originally by Bruce Springsteen, holds a little menace to it, and that song is about as stunning as they come.

Overall, Parading have not only evaporated all the negative connotations attached the word parading, but have created one hell of an album whilst doing it. Their marrying of the powerful, wicked and gorgeous into one three course meal of amazing is sustained throughout their entire record and for that, we, the music loving public of the globe, thank you. At the very least, the Reid brothers from The Jesus and Mary Chain are quaking in their boots that a couple of blokes from Australia are playing their game better than they are.

You can grab ‘Swallowing a Sunflower’ from Birds Love Fighting, the label operated by the band. Whilst you’re there, check out a bunch of the other killer records on there, from the likes of The Ocean Party and Heirophants.

New: Jonny Telafone-Teenage Kicks

This is sounds unlike any track with the prefix of teenage should sound. Or does it reflect the teenage soul more accurately. I don’t know. When I think teenage and music, I think DZ Deathrays, Bleeding Knees Club and Black Zeros. Jonny Telafone, a Melbournite of substantial musical talent, has relased a track that harkens more closely to theintrospective goth kid than the surfie stoner that I’m used to channeling. Jesus and Mary Chain and Everything But the Girl are the main things I hear on this track, but the slow acoustic strumming, and simple, kinda hopeful outlook of the track morph it into something a little bit cooler and capable of more listens than ‘Just Like Honey’.