MSTRKRFT

FADE IN:

INT. EXPENSIVE AND LUXURIOUS LOFT (NIGHT)

An expensive and luxurious loft, very late at night. It is unclear what city we are in; could be Seattle or Chicago, but the ratio of women to men is high and everyone’s smoking indoors—come to think of it, it’s probably Montreal. The living room is large and clean. Modern art prints adorn the walls. A high ceiling. Small but powerful speakers are scattered about the room, tucked here and there behind potted plants and fish bowls, and from them booms MSTRKRFT’s latest LP, Fist Of God.

Album opener “It Ain’t Love” fills the air as chic girls in American Apparel short-shorts and gold lame bras dance around the room, spilling wine coolers and wiping coke-smears from their upper lips. The party’s DJ—new “On The Go” iPod playlist shuffling away, his milk crate of vinyl DFA singles unused and ignored on the table beside his laptop—smooths a crease out of his oversized purple polo as a wasted 17 year old slinks by, complimenting his choice of record as he not-so-subtly admires what lies just beneath her too-transparent mesh tank-top.

THE DJ
(Tipping his white Yankees cap)

It’s the new MSTRKRFT. Part of a little playlist I just whipped
up for the party.

SEVENTEEN YEAR OLD IN TRANSPARENT MESH TANK-TOP

Oh, I love MSTRKRFT! Jessie Keeler is sooo hot.

THE DJ
(To impress)

Yeah, I just downloaded a torrent of the leaked album. Shit is off the hook.

S.Y.O.I.T.M.T-T

Oh, put it on, put it on! I’d just love to hear the whole album.

THE DJ

Uh, well, I just made this whole playlist. It has an obscure
remix of “D.A.N.C.E.” on it, and…

S.Y.O.I.T.M.T-T
(Touching the DJ’s arm, ostensibly to flirt but also to keep balance)

Oh, please. Puh-lease. I’d just love to hear it.

THE DJ
(Smitten)

Oh, alright!

The DJ puts Fist Of God on in full and cranks the volume. More dancing commences.

CUT TO:

INT. E. & L. LOFT — KITCHEN

A kitchen off to the side, music volume slightly lower. More hipsters—twentysomethings in royal blue hoodies, oversized plastic sunglasses with neon trim, bottles of Labatt 50 in hands all over the room—scattered about, but considerably less dancing. Sequestered in the corner we find CALUM and his IMAGINARY FRIEND, who only CALUM can see, chatting with one another quietly.

IMAGINARY FRIEND
(Concerned)

You look upset. What’s the matter?

CALUM

It’s this party. It’s irritating.

IMAGINARY FRIEND

You think so? Why?

CALUM

This music is terrible. I abhor MSTRKRFT—I hated their last LP and this sounds even worse. They want to be Daft Punk, and I love Daft Punk, but their records sound so hollow and dull. I don’t understand how anyone could be into this.

IMAGINARY FRIEND

But many people are into this. MSTRKRFT have a lot of fans. Look around: people here love this! They’re dancing up a storm and I just heard a girl exclaim that this song was “the jam.” She also said Jessie Keeler is hot, but she pronounced it as “hawt.”

CALUM

The only people who like MSTRKRFT are these samey hipsters. They do lots of coke and read VICE and wear nothing but American Apparel and listen to shitty music like this.

IMAGINARY FRIEND

Don’t be a hypocrite. You shop at American Apparel and you’ve enjoyed articles in VICE. And really, does it matter what you think of the fans? It should be about the music…

CALUM

But it is about the music! The music is terrible. Listen to this song, “Bounce”: “All we do is party / ha ha ha ha.” This is the biggest problem with this band and bands like them: too much post-post-post-post anything and everything, all laced with irony and delivered with a winking eye, a nudging elbow. They
protect themselves from criticism by refusing to take themselves or their music seriously. It’s all so cold and empty and irritating.

IMAGINARY FRIEND

Lighten up—it’s just supposed to be fun. You’re not supposed to think about it; you’re supposed to relax and have a good time.

CALUM

That’s what I mean when I say that they protect themselves: any criticism is immediately met with them response that it’s “just fun” and that you shouldn’t be so serious about it.

IMAGINARY FRIEND

And…

CALUM

…And they’re not immune to criticism because they deliver with a smirk. I remember in high school I saw some vacuous and vapid teen comedy, and when I told my friends that it was terrible they told me that “not every movie tries to be Citizen Kane.” The suggestion being that anything which is aware of its own vacuity
and overall dumbness is suddenly and completely exempt from any criticism of it being just that. I refuse to subscribe to that; I’m not going to blindly forgive an album’s problems because it comes with the disclaimer that it isn’t trying to blow your mind and is just meant to be fun.

IMAGINARY FRIEND

So…you don’t like simple fun?

CALUM

Of course I do, but this isn’t simple, it’s simplistic—there’s a difference.

The album comes to “Word Up,” featuring Ghostface Killah. No one seems to know who Ghostface is, somehow, and the party rages on as normal.

IMAGINARY FRIEND

Okay, but if you have legitimate issues with this record, why are you bothering with this silly review?

CALUM

You know, my editor was just thinking the same thing…

IMAGINARY FRIEND

This whole concept review thing is kinda gimmicky, don’t you think? You’re just making fun of hipsters, basically.

CALUM

I guess.

IMAGINARY FRIEND

Yet calling you a hipster really wouldn’t really be out of the question.

CALUM

…

IMAGINARY FRIEND

Right. So I’m just wondering why you didn’t just write a few paragraphs about Fist Of God, commenting on its homogeneity and blandness, attacking it for sounding dull and boring and vacuous and so on, rather than writing this script thing, whatever it is, and barely talking about the music on the album at all.

CALUM

…

IMAGINARY FRIEND

And the point of your gimmick, I guess, being that you think hipsters are douchebags—that they like MSTRKRFT and wear similar clothing and do a lot of coke.

CALUM

My point is that MSTRKRFT are terrible and that they will appeal only to coked-out 17 year old hipsters at house parties who’ll listen to anything with a chunky synth and handclaps, and that Fist Of God should be avoided by anyone with a discerning ear or shred of taste.

IMAGINARY FRIEND

And so this self-conscious bit at the end here, that’s…

CALUM

Uh.

IMAGINARY FRIEND

You protecting yourself from anyone reading this and thinking you’re a smug, pretentious douchebag hating on hipsters and MSTRKRFT without reason, trying to seem…what, clever? Funny? Really?

The album comes to a close and the dancing temporarily subsides as the DJ sifts through his iPod, looking for something else to play. Calum takes a long drink of his bottle of 50 and sighs when he hears the opening blips and bloops of a new Crystal Castles remix. It’s going to be a long night.