Nitsuh’s indignation being completely righteous, some part of me longs to believe that Jessica Hopper’s great transgression here is some accident of transition. My reasons for this longing don’t amount to more than “emo discourse would be shittier without her,” but the clause at hand (“‘One of my bandmates is Iranian-American” has got to be the Pitchfork-nation equivalent of ‘Some of my best friends are black’”) seems, in the larger view of the piece, to be Hopper’s way of moving from issues of race to issues of class, which are not mutually exclusive things in any sense, but that’s the only sort of saving grace I can muster for it.

Because, regardless, it takes earnest claims of identity and renders them meaningless means for a zinger. Also, even the “saving grace” I’m mustering has its fucked qualities—”it does not matter if they are not all white, their tax bracket means they are white.” What worries me most, as a generally self-obsessed dude, is how I propped up the offending paragraph earlier today and aspired to be a reflection of it. How much did I want for some racially-edged dart in Vampire Weekend’s side that I ignored its awful implications?

I don’t even think I did, is the thing. I intended to write on ILM earlier today that I don’t particularly care if Vampire Weekend “exploit” or if they’re “cultural tourists.” I don’t find them very interesting, is all (but I’m apparently very interested in the discourse that sprouts from them). But here I was, a few hours ago, thinking, “Fuck yeah, these guys are a post-racial pose and fuck them for it!” without a second thought.