Pessimism leaks down the gutters of British culture. It seeps into the ceiling and gathers in a greasy bucket, holding grudges. Mould takes hold where it got in, and now the whole living-room smells of damp, of petrichor. For a long time I’ve been contemplating the difference in self-perception between the UK and the rest of the world. And recently, with the resurrection of the Indie Sleaze subculture, I’ve been noticing people addressing this idea in casual spaces. Although Indie Sleaze’s official birthplace was New York City, it is my opinion that it has become a permanent hallmark of the British ‘look’ because it aligns so well with the national sentiment. Specifically, it is rough around the edges, and doesn’t mind if you fished your attire out of a bin on a rainy street.
Tiktoker Sam Andrews, in his confusion at British society, seems ironically to sum it up perfectly. He asserts that whilst “England is miserable”, a place where people are “constantly trying to escape misery”, there is something paradoxically jovial to its despair. Focussing on British comedy, Andrews remarks that “the joke is that everything is depressing and bad”. Think Skins UK, The Inbetweeners, The Peep Show, The IT Crowd, Motherland, The League of Gentlemen, Fawlty Towers, Outnumbered, or Friday Night Dinner. These comedies cling like wet denim to the overcast cynicism of the British experience, the sarcastic embrace of all that is generally a bit crap. And if you want examples of this in stand-up comedy, simply turn to Stewart Lee, Romesh Ranganathan, or Bob Mortimer. This even finds its way into musical expression, and I’d recommend Sleaford Mods, Idles, or Soft Play as more recent examples of this flippant lyricism, with Pulp being a forebear. My theory is that our consciousness is haunted by the collapse of the British Empire, and this trickles down into our humour, our politics, our songs, and our overall attitude. Essentially, Britain is a fallen kingdom, still falling in fact, ever declining. In almost macrocosmically slapstick terms, the country seems to find amusement in the nightmare of the grim suburban maze, the haphazard estate, the bleak rural limbo. As Andrews puts it: “They’re almost happy with the fact that it’s depressing because it’s what they know”.
Now, as an American, he finds this nearly impossible to fathom, and yet he appears to answer his own puzzlement moments later, describing why he feels an affinity with the UK (his Grandparents lived in South Africa under British rule before resettling in the US). Of course, South Africa was a fragment of the empire that became independent in 1926 and then a Republic in 1961, leading to mass emigration of colonial occupants. In my poetry on the matter, I envision Britain’s naked, sunburnt flab smoking on a desolate beach, gazing out upon the ocean and the faraway regions it once held in its authoritarian grip. And it’s true that you see this decayism manifest most vividly in seaside towns like Scarborough or Blackpool. Therefore, the depression in British culture seems really to be a kind of grief, and an anticipation of defeat.
Economic and political deterioration, too, is addressed by Andrews in the video, summarising that “things don’t seem to be working”; Westminster is “messy”, and the financial situation is “backsliding”. These two words are, in my view, impeccably placed. To me, “backsliding” conjures up images of a pram, or a van without the brakes on, skidding down a hill toward a highway. It carries something undeniably comical, and yet undeniably dangerous. Similarly, whilst I would describe American politics as volatile, “messy” is comparatively much better suited in relation to the Houses of Parliament. Rather than catastrophic, Britain’s governmental practice is shambolic, dishevelled. This translates into contrasts in national identities. As an American, one is either beside themselves with absolute patriotism, or with revolutionary hatred, whereas pride in the Union Jack is far more lethargic. Andrews touches on this too, expressing how “they have so much like pride, but it’s like they’re not convinced of their pride”. The country is a dwindling chippy, stodgy crooks tossing the fish in the headlines of the day, letting salty grime get in the gaps between the floor tiles. So it’s a little hard to get excited about.
In fact, it’s a lot easier to get angry. Andrews asserts that “there’s a lot of anger in the culture”, using football fanaticism as an example of this. It’s certainly true that British pride is often reactionary, and a great deal of the time, community is formed in opposition to other groups, whether that be Arsenal, the wealthy, or the non-white. In regards to the second item here, Andrews explores briefly how social mobility in the country is limited, how regardless of the money in one’s pocket, one’s upbringing, accent, and mannerisms define one’s class status. There is something static or stagnant in the culture. He compares this to the US, in which, according to him, you can “earn your way”. Notwithstanding how true this actually is, where one nation has an “American Dream”, the UK has rather a drizzly disillusionment.
Okay, so why is Indie Sleaze relevant here? Well, there is one generation that is more depressed, and more pessimistic than all that have gone before them. You guessed it! It’s Gen Z. Millennials were the first to don smudged eyeliner and layer one too many chunky necklaces, and they came into adulthood during the recession, so that makes sense. However, as global deterioration, overpopulation, and wealth disparity speed up 100-fold, the future is looking less and less promising. It is commonplace to hear the phrases “surviving the apocalypse” or “what do you mean? I’ll be dead” when you ask young people about their aspirations. Therefore, the disinterestedness and languor of the aesthetic reflects the utter nihilism of its participants. Perhaps its internationally widespread popularity suggests that the melancholic spores are spreading. We know we’re decaying from the inside out; we know how deep the rot has bored. And when you can’t escape the oncoming tide, all you can do is charge into the wave.