The cliche conception of New York City is that it is “the city that never sleeps.” Perhaps this phrase has been used in reference to it so many times for a good reason- it appears to be one of the only constant factors in the ever changing New York. In a fast paced world of technological and social growth, change can be both beautiful and a little sad. Sometimes it seems that in exchange for efficiency, affluence, and expansion, we have given up some of the soul of our thriving city. Gentrification is often cited and being detrimental to the culture of an area, and that most certainly seems to be true in the case of Manhattan. Cultural neighborhoods, locally owned bookstores and cafes, and street art have been systemically replaced with upper class housing communities, chains and corporate giants in high rise buildings, and advertisements. These changes have affected the very heart of the people, and this is especially noticeable in the music and art produced in and about the city.
One of the marks of age, whether in an individual or a place, is that what once seemed new and brilliant in youth becomes a nostalgia tainted image of days long past. The New York City Stories playlist is a perfect blend of this nostalgia and modern views of the city. Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra’s stories of New York paint it as a beautiful, lavish city of heart and soul. Several decades later, however, the Wu Tang Clan speaks of it being a city divided between the rich and the poor, ruled by cops and money in C.R.E.A.M., an abbreviation of the phrase “cash rules everything around me.” Whereas NYC was once a place where everybody had a shot at success regardless of background, commercial development has made the rich richer and the poor poorer, making the gap between classes a nearly unbridgeable abyss. The problem of homelessness has only gotten worse over the years, leaving nearly every corner occupied by a person unable to feed or clothe themselves adequately, at the mercy of passersby.
The echo of the New York that once was still lives on in the memories of the people that inhabited it. Death Cab for Cutie’s Coney Island is a bittersweet eulogy for amusement park that used to be one of the happiest parts of NYC. In this song, Benjamin Gibbard says
“I can hear the Atlantic echo back roller coaster screams from summers past.
And everything was closed at Coney Island, and I could not help from smiling.
Brooklyn will fill in the beach eventually and everyone will go except me.”
This song expresses a longing for the spirit of Coney Island that seems to have faded away. The writer seems to believe that Brooklyn itself will eventually take over one of the few places where people still gather to have fun in favor of housing, stores, and corporations. Perhaps if enough other people share this sentiment, we can reclaim the spirit of the city in the coming decades before it vanishes entirely.
Veronica Funk
Veronica, I love that you chose to listen to the New York City playlist! Your blog post was so insightful and I can tell that you’ve got a talent and a passion for music. I’m glad you touched upon the subject of gentrification- it’s sad to see a city slowly and slowly lose some of its oldest and greatest magic. It’s a reminder of how much we should cherish the “hidden gems” of our neighborhood. Something that comes to mind when I think of this is my own neighborhood of Flushing, Queens. People call it the “real Chinatown” of New York City and I think it’s because, unlike Manhattan’s Chinatown, the presence of the Asian culture hasn’t been altered much in the eighteen years since I was born at the Flushing hospital. Urban change is great, but I’d like to preserve the culture of my neighborhood for as long as it can stay. I love the feeling of walking through the downtown area to go to the Chinese food markets. I love the feeling of walking to the 7 train at 7 AM, stopping by the local Chinese bakery to pick up a cinnamon roll. Just reading your post reminded me just how much I value these things about my neighborhood and this city.