Three days ago, Justin Vernon broke the hearts of innumerable music lovers when he announced that his reunion of Bon Iver would be no more than a one off performance with no new album plans in sight. Fans begrudgingly put down their indie folk uniforms, stripped of their chance to relive the glory days when Fleet Foxes reigned supreme, people purchased beard oil, and Bon Iver inexplicably won a Grammy for Best New Artist three years after he, you know, released his debut record.
Like many microcosms within the music world, folk is not inherently evil. If anything, the genre’s pillars are that of gut-wrenching honesty, stripped down instrumentation, and vaguely spiritual/existential aesthetics—all prime ingredients in my book. What we did to folk music, mainly attributing the perpetually vague prefix “indie” to it and allowing countless ripoffs airtime, was an atrocity that I’ll never forget.
There was this moment where I sat in a backyard with a friend's iPad, scrolling through Spotify to find music to put on during some type of get together. I was baffled by how contrived the pre-made playlists were, but none threw me for a loop like “Beards and Flannel” did. It took the “guy in the forest with a guitar” mythos, and all the earnest passion and existentialism that comes with it, and presented it to me boxed up, shrink wrapped, and all for the low low price of $9.99 a month. It didn’t matter that Justin Vernon mourned the loss of a longterm relationship, the breakup of his previous band, and suffered from mononucleosis while recording For Emma. What mattered was how neatly that sound fit into a fabricated, marketed aesthetic; one that was easily bought and sold by clothing retailers and streaming services.
Once we allowed this to become a sort of cultural standardization, countless other bands chimed in for a piece of the pie. Of Monsters and Men had a very surface level attempt at folk-pop, with just enough acoustic instrumentation to warrant wearing a flannel to their live shows, but enough “heys!” yelled in unison to cement them in the radio waves. The Lumineers made it easy, with their name practically hitting you over the head with the hanging lightbulbs that are scattered throughout their videos. (Side note: I went to a church once where the band dressed like the Lumineers and there were hanging lightbulbs all over the stage. I can only assume they’ve moved on to Chillwave at this point).
It’s odd considering that the musicians who got us into this mess in the first place were generally the first ones to leave it. Bon Iver went on hiatus after the second record, as did Fleet Foxes. Maybe Mumford and Sons should have followed suit. Maybe we should follow suit too. I can only hope that when indie-folk undoubtedly comes back around that the beard trend becomes disassociated with the genre. I could never really grow one anyways.
