Focus on Contemporary Issues (FOCI)

Anatomy of an Attitude

Dick Pountain, David Robins

• Publisher: Reaktion Books
• Year: 2000
• ISBN:
  9781861895592
• Topic: Education
• Subtopic: Education General

Cool Rules introduces the reader to a new cultural category. While the authors do not claim to have discovered Cool, they believe they are the first to attempt a serious, systematic analysis of Cool's history, psychology, and importance.The contemporary Cool attitude is barely 50 years old, but its roots are older than that. Cool Rules traces Cool's ancient origins in European, Asian, and African cultures, its prominence in the African-American jazz scene of the 1940s, and its pivotal position within the radical subcultures of the 1950s and '60s. Pountain and Robins examine various art movements, music, cinema, and literature, moving from the dandies and flâneurs of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries through to the expropriation of a whole cultural and psychological tradition by the media in the 1980s and '90s. What began as a rebellious posture adopted by minorities mutated to become mainstream itself. Cool is now primarily about consumption, as cynical advertisers have seized on it to create a constantly updated bricolage of styles and entertainments designed to affect the way people think about themselves and their society.

CHAPTER ONE

What is Cool?

In March 1999 the Levi Strauss company of San Francisco, the largest clothing brand in the world and purveyor of blue jeans to generations of cowboys and teenagers, announced that it would close half of its US plants and lay off 6,000 workers. The reason given was a slump in sales (Levi’s market share halved between 1990 and 1998) but beneath that reason lies another – Levi’s blue jeans are no longer Cool. The question of what is, and what is not, Cool is a matter not solely for schoolyard discussion but also for the boardrooms of all kinds of businesses, from soft drinks and snacks to clothes, cars and computers. Profits and jobs depend upon what may seem a trivial and juvenile distinction to many people.

Cool is rarely out of the news nowadays. One day we are told that UK teachers plan to ‘challenge low aspiration among disaffected youth by promoting the perception that learning is cool’, while next the Barbican Art Gallery in London is staging a retrospective of ’60s photographs by David Bailey under the title Birth of the Cool. There is a resurgence of interest, accompanied by new biographies, of the beat generation writers Kerouac, Ginsberg and Burroughs. Cool even affects property prices – a recent book by Mark Irving and Marcus Field chronicles the way in which Abstract Expressionists and other artists in New York City during the ’50s and ’60s colonized grimy lofts in old commercial premises as a form of ‘resistance against Modernist urban redevelopment plans’. However, during the early ’90s a dramatic shift occurred as imaginative property developers moved in on the loft market; ‘From being zones of feisty individualism, lofts became about being rich, marketed as the places in which “movers and shakers” planned their next career spectacular . . . Suddenly inner-city living was cool.’¹

Then there is the darker side of Cool. The US hip-hop culture seethes with violence, from the gunning down of artists Tupac Shakur and Biggie Smalls to the indictment of Puff Daddy for GBH and assault against his video producer. Columbine High School in Denver, Colorado – where in April 1999 two ‘goths’ massacred 25 of their fellow students – was described in the media as divided into four or five sub-cultures, each believing themselves Cooler than the rest, while the killers themselves allegedly consumed ‘industrial quantities’ of drugs. Even the 1999 Kosovo crisis yielded Cool connections: press photographs showed Serbian paramilitaries (and their opposite numbers in the Kosovo Liberation Army) sporting tattoos, bandannas and T-shirts bearing Hell’s Angels insignia, plus the ultimate style accessory, a Kalashnikov assault rifle. While Nato bombs fell on Belgrade, the city’s young people attended rock concerts, hiding in dance clubs rather than bomb shelters and smoking Albanian-grown weed. It is said that during the 1996 siege of Sarajevo, Belgrade clubbers would drive out after a night at the disco to take pot shots at the hapless citizens from the surrounding hills. Meanwhile the Western world is witnessing an epidemic of heroin and cocaine abuse (the two Coolest drugs of all).

What all these references, and many more, suggest is that Cool is not merely a passing fad but is becoming a universal phenomenon that has an important influence on all our institutions, from the media and education to the real estate market and the economy itself (both legal and underground). It is only a slight exaggeration to say that movements in Cool are reported with the same gravity that was once reserved for the gold standard.

Confounded by Cool. A 1988 British health-education poster showing a young man ravaged by heroin addiction had to be withdrawn because young people sought copies to hang in their bedrooms.

A Moving Target

So what exactly is Cool? That is a difficult question to answer at several levels. Firstly there arises the question of its ontological status: what kind of an entity is Cool? Is it a philosophy, a sensibility, a religion, an ideology, a personality type, a behaviour pattern, an attitude, a zeitgeist, a worldview? We shall not concern ourselves too deeply with this question here, leaving that pleasure for others. Rather we intend to take an unfashionably naive approach by simply accepting Cool as a phenomenon that we can recognize when we see it, from its effects in human behaviour and cultural artefacts – in speech and dance, films and television shows, books and magazines, music, clothes, paintings, cars, computers or motorcycles. It doesn’t take too much investigation to understand that Cool is not something that inheres in these artefacts themselves, but rather in people’s attitude to them. Levi Strauss found out the hard way that Cool is not an intrinsic property woven into the blue denim of its jeans: it was the way that their wearers perceived Levi’s that made them Cool, and within a few years that perception would be imperceptibly seduced away by Calvin Klein and Tommy Hilfiger.

If Cool is inherent in people rather than objects, then what is seen as Cool will change from place to place, from time to time, from generation to generation. Danny Boyle’s 1996 film Trainspotting.

Around the time of the plant closures Levi Strauss’s vice-president of marketing was reported as saying that ‘What kids want is to be acceptable to their peers’ (reported by Hal Espen in The New York Times), but that is only half the answer, and is profoundly symptomatic of how far wrong Levi Strauss had gone. Kids want simultaneously to be acceptable to their peers and scandalous to their parents. What originally made Levi’s Cool in the ’50s was that they were garments associated with the working classes – the term ‘blue-collar’ is a reference to denim work-shirts. In the ’50s and ’60s, for a middle-class kid to wear blue denim rather than grey flannel was an act of symbolic rebellion. But in the ’90s those sartorial rebels are parents and still wearing their Levi’s, so their own children must find something different to express their rebellion. In the UK this was made hilariously explicit when a 1998 consumer survey discovered that Jeremy Clarkson, an aggressively middle-class (and blue-jeans-wearing) presenter of Top Gear, a television programme about cars, was almost single-handedly responsible for making denim Uncool to the under-thirties.

Here then is a basis for a rough working definition of Cool that may serve until more of its properties are uncovered in later chapters. Cool is an oppositional attitude adopted by individuals or small groups to express defiance to authority – whether that of the parent, the teacher, the police, the boss or the prison warden. Put more succinctly, we see Cool as a permanent state of private rebellion. Permanent because Cool is not just some ‘phase that you go through’, something that you ‘grow out of’, but rather something that if once attained remains for life; private because Cool is not a collective political response but a stance of individual defiance, which does not announce itself in strident slogans but conceals its rebellion behind a mask of ironic impassivity. This attitude is in the process of becoming the dominant type of relation between people in Western societies, a new secular virtue. No-one wants to be good any more, they want to be Cool, and this desire is no longer confined to teenagers but is to be found in a sizeable minority even of the over-50s who were permanently affected by the ’60s counter-culture.

As Cool likes to live dangerously, government health warnings about smoking are likely to prove counter-productive. Humphrey Bogart (1899–1957).

This brings us to a second difficulty in defining Cool, namely its mutability. If Cool is not inherent in objects but in people, then what is seen as Cool will change from place to place, from time to time and from generation to generation. Those marketing managers at Levi Strauss desperately trying to ‘crack the code of cool’ know that their jeans were granted Cool status by an accident of history, and advertising alone cannot recapture it for them.

In any epoch, although Cool will have a particularly powerful meaning for teenagers, as an antidote to their ever-present fear of being embarrassed, being Cool forms part of a risky series of negotiations about becoming an individual while still being accepted into a group – it’s about both individuality and belonging, and the tension between the two. Once acquired, Cool does not wear off quickly, and since in its modern form it appeared in the ’50s, there are now at least four generations alive who have their own – often seriously clashing – definitions of what is Cool. Recent studies of under-30 drug users reveal that a significant number have parents who first experimented with drugs in the ’60s and ’70s (when they were Cool themselves) and who are now in a quandary about what to tell their children. Each succeeding generation feels that ‘real’ Cool is something pure and existential known only to them – it was founded in their time, in the jazz clubs of the ’50s, or the hippy festivals of the ’60s, or the punk explosion of the ’70s. One component of Cool is certainly a retarded adolescence, inspired in part by a morbid fear of ageing – anyone who has been to a party where 50-somethings get down to the strains of ‘Get Off of My Cloud’ have had a glimpse of the danse macabre.

On the other hand, Cool is equally about teenagers behaving with precocious maturity (especially about sex and political cynicism), and older hipsters are discovering that the behaviour they employed as provocation in the ’60s is now accepted as everyday routine: city streets, cafés, movie theatres and clubs thronged with exuberant youth for whom wearing hair long or sporting a nose ring is considered quite a mild social statement (it’s easy to forget that in ‘swinging London’ in the ’60s the burger joint was the only place open after 10.30pm).

Distinctive clothes and haircuts have always been key signifiers of Cool, but that doesn’t make it purely a matter of fashion. Fashion is the court in which Cool displays itself, but it penetrates deeper than that, down into ‘that within which passeth show’ as Hamlet (one of the first Cool heroes of literature) would have it. Cool is not simply emotional shallowness, lack of passion or enthusiasm, as it is sometimes parodied. Cool’s real work is done inside: inside the seventeen-year-old lad who spends his money on deodorants and Tommy Hilfiger and likes what he sees in the mirror (while fighting down his internal panic that his true feelings might rise up to overwhelm him); and equally inside the successful, fashionable young woman who lives in thrall to an abusive man. Many modern egos are held together by the powerful spiritual adhesive that is Cool. A carefully cultivated Cool pose can keep the lid on the most intense feelings and violent emotions. In the street culture of America’s inner cities, as glorified in gangsta rap, Cool is considered such an important source of respect that people will commit homicide in order to maintain it.

It’s tempting to see Cool as a primarily male phenomenon, an exaggeration of the young male’s tendency toward peacock display and emotional detachment, but it is more complicated than that. There is a sense in which many of the original Cool role models of the ’50s – James Dean, Frank Sinatra, Marlon Brando and Montgomery Clift – represented a new feminization of traditional masculine images and a break with orthodox macho constructs of the desirable male. The contribution of gay culture (both underground and ‘out’) to the development of Cool is a story that has yet to be told. Also in film and popular music there is a long and strong tradition of Cool female role models, from Garbo, Stanwyck, Dietrich and Bacall, through Billie Holiday, to Nico and Chrissie Hynde. As the new secular virtue, Cool now inspires women as much as it does men, from smart television executives to single parents living in housing developments.

Another misconception about Cool, and one that is equally prevalent among both champions of high culture and their leftist detractors, is that it represents nothing more than US cultural imperialism: that it is simply American popular culture exported around the world. It is certainly true that Cool in its present form has roots in pre-war American black culture and was co-opted and disseminated by Hollywood movies and rock music. However, we shall demonstrate that similar phenomena have emerged in many different countries and over many centuries, and that even in the post-war decades Cool has been significantly shaped by European influences, not least by British popular music and humour.

Cool is a rebellious attitude, an expression of a belief that the mainstream mores of your society have no legitimacy and do not apply to you. It’s a self-contained and individualistic attitude, although it places high value on friendship within a tightly defined peer group – indeed it strives to displace traditional family ties, which are too intimate and intrusive to allow sufficient space for self-invention. Cool is profoundly hedonistic but often to such a self-destructive degree that it flirts with death: by accident, suicide or some ambivalent admixture of the two (for example, a motorcycle crash or auto-erotic strangulation). Cool was once an attitude fostered by rebels and underdogs – slaves, prisoners, political dissidents – for whom open rebellion invited punishment, so it hid its defiance behind a wall of ironic detachment, distancing itself from the source of authority rather than directly confronting it. In the ’50s this attitude was widely adopted by artists and intellectuals who thereby aided its infiltration into popular culture, with the result that today it is becoming the dominant attitude, even (or perhaps especially) among the rich and privileged who can wield it as merely the latest in a long line of weapons with which to put down their ‘social inferiors’. Contemporary Cool is equally at home in the tenement basement and the million-dollar loft conversion. At its most extreme, Cool can even be turned into a manipulative strategy for separating people from their families and encouraging dependency: ‘control freaks’ such as Charles Manson, David Khoresh of the Branch Dravidians (of Waco notoriety), the Reverend Jim Jones and gurus like the Bagwhan Shri Rajneesh have all deployed Cool as an aspect of their manipulative personas.

The New Arbiters of Cool

If Cool is the new virtue, then the worst sin you can commit against it is to be ‘judgemental’, that is, to make disparaging value judgements about someone else’s lifestyle. The next worst sin is to do precisely what we are doing here, namely to attempt to define and analyze Cool. There is a glaring contradiction here, because Cool itself is intrinsically judgemental and exclusive: it can ultimately define itself only by excluding what is Uncool. Moreover the taboo against reflecting on the nature of Cool does not inhibit our mass media from obsessive discussions about what is or is not Cool, countless interviews that ‘rediscover’ Cool pioneers from the demi-monde and endless top-ten lists. Behind this discourse, however, lies a more pertinent question, namely ‘Who will decide what is Cool?’ For whoever decides wields great economic power.

Newspaper editors and their marketing directors are unashamedly dangling Cool as bait for the elusive young adult market. In the UK few readers can have failed to notice the extraordinary transformation that in recent years has overtaken that Great British Institution, the serious newspaper: The Times, The Telegraph, The Observer, The Independent and The Guardian have become virtually unrecognizable. As television has usurped their role as prime transmitters of news events, these ‘serious’ newspapers now sell lifestyle and opinion, recruiting hordes of columnists and editors from the style and fashion press to provide ‘credible’ coverage of the triumphal progress of Cool. A similar trend is discernible in television programming itself, to the extent that one media chief executive of the ’90s (known to colleagues as the ‘King of Cool’) was reputed to commission programmes solely on the basis of whether they would project a suitably Hip image for his station. The evidence so far is that this strategy is failing to halt declines in newspaper circulation and viewing figures.

The election of the New Labour Government in 1997 sparked off a battle between these newspaper columnists to either support or trash a precariously concocted notion of ‘Cool Britannia’, which was fought by incorporating the greatest number of puns on Cool into their headlines. One newspaper even voted Cool its ‘Word of the Year’. Glossy magazines splashed the word across their covers to exploit its ‘feel-good’ effect, flaunting membership of the in-crowd for just £2.50. A few more thoughtful commentators fought a desperate rearguard action. A British television critic, Desmond Christy (The Guardian, 3 July 1997), complained ironically that ‘you can’t really get a job in the media any more if you don’t use the word “cool” as your response to most questions and situations.² A few examples: “What did you think of last night’s X-Files?” Response: “Cool.” “I voted New Labour.” Response: “Cool.” You soon get the hang of it and it saves you from ever being short of something to say.’ The Independent on Sunday ran a fatuous feature entitled ‘A Guide to What’s Really Co...

Table of contents

• Front Cover
• Half Title
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Contents
• Introduction
• 1 What is Cool?
• 2 Out of Africa
• 3 A Whiter Shade of Cool
• 4 That’s Cool Too . . .
• 5 Cool Cracks Up
• 6 The Look of Cool
• 7 Cool Relations
• 8 Cool Psyche
• 9 Cool Rules
• References
• Acknowledgements
• Photographic Acknowledgements