As if hobnobbing with anti-intellectual poseurs dropping racist memes like they discovered 4chan about 10 years after everyone else wasn’t bad enough, Jemima Kelly ought to get hazard pay for being subjected to their horrible taste in music. The reporter for the FT attended a UK garden party in honor of Curtis Yarvin and lived to tell the tale.
This story is extremely online, even though it involves people who should have grown out of being extremely online, so here’s a primer on the major characters:
The Cast:
Curtis Yarvin – Pretentious git that presides over the “dark enlightenment,” an anti-democratic movement that would like to make Trump, or someone like Trump, an enlightened monarch to rule over us all. Twitter nerds jerk each other off over shit like that. Yarvin is the type of 50 year old man that an 80 year old man with family wealth and a reputation for inappropriate contact would call “a fine young man.”
Matthew Glamorre – It’s his happening and it freaks him out. Glamorre “went wherever the counterculture did. In the 1980s, it was acid house, then grunge. In the early 1990s, he opened a club called Smashing in the West End that became the epicentre of the emerging Britpop scene…. Along with Sovereign House, he threw the unofficial after-party for this year’s ARC conference (no relation, one hopes), ‘London’s rightwing Davos,’ and puts on smaller events every month or so.”
The DJ – Unnamed but who we probably know, and described as being intersex and once identifying as trans before becoming “fiercly anti-woke.” They, like most people in this story, feel the need to describe themselves as “based,” likely because nobody they know IRL will.
And off we go:
“Can I play some sort of Ibiza-y sort of stuff?” she asks Glamorre.
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Something with a beat?”
Glamorre has just stuffed the camembert into his mouth. “No. N-n-n-n-n-no. Absolutely not.”
“Are you sure they want to listen to medieval music all day?”
Glamorre has instructed her to play mainly “bardcore”, a microgenre that he describes as “covers of famous music done in the medieval style” that, like the dissident right itself, really picked up momentum in 2020.
The DJ explains to me that the idea is that “This is the kind of music our ancestors would have sung, so they kind of trigger something in your DNA.”
The ethnonationalists at the party don’t seem that moved.
The entire story of this sweaty and uncomfortable nerd prom is worth reading.
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