When women have to put in twice the work to get half the recognition, the alt-rock archetype loses its appeal

The stereotype of the slacker dood has been a staple of US alt-rock since the early 90s: a movement epitomised by Douglas Coupland’s Generation X, Pavement, Richard Linklater’s Slacker and apathy’s anthem, Loser by Beck. Back then, it was endearing: a lazy “fuck you” to the overblown Guns N’ Roses and the earnest Pearl Jam. Yet a quarter of a century later, it’s an ironic approach that no longer sits entirely right.

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Music is an industry where women constantly have to put in twice the work in order to get half the recognition (See Beck winning best album at the 2015 Grammys over Beyoncé’s self-titled multimedia odyssey). A genre that relies on men shrugging their shoulders and doing the bare minimum doesn’t quite have the same appeal.

Slackers’ slouchy attitude also seems at odds with that of the hyper-productive, hyper-politicised younger generations consuming it for the first time. So much so that even its godfathers are drifting from their origins. Pavement singer Stephen Malkmus’s new record Groove Denied is an electronic album that sounds like Soft Cell gently frotting Kraftwerk. In a recent interview in Q, the Lemonheads’ Evan Dando was more interested in promoting his paintings than his new covers album. Then there is the curious backlash against Mac DeMarco. Who could hate on the professionally adorable DeMarco, with his gap-toothed smile, sassy way with dungarees and fondness for shoving drumsticks up his anus like GG Allin guest-starring in The Simpsons?

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Well, quite a few people, actually. DeMarco recently announced his new album Here Comes the Cowboy and lead single Nobody. The news quickly started trending – and not in a good way – as an outraged Indie Twitter noted that fellow alt-rock darling Mitski had already released an album with the ever-so familiar title Be the Cowboy only last year, also with a single called, yep, Nobody. DeMarco was soon painted as a very bad cowboy indeed, the kind who stomps into town wearing black snakeskin boots and likes to interrupt women by repeating something they said five minutes ago, only louder. Mitski didn’t seem to mind, crediting the “collective unconsciousness”. DeMarco – in typically slacker style – claims he hadn’t even heard her record.

If now is the time for musicians to behave as if they actually care then Courtney Barnett – one of the lone female voices of the millennial slacker sound, who doesn’t simply dial in sunny apathy like her male counterparts – could be the genre’s saviour. She manages to make songs that wallow in a post-grunge malaise, but her lyrics – touching on male violence against women and online abuse on her last album Tell Me How You Really Feel – remain meaningful, galvanising even. Perhaps the summer of slacker isn’t over just yet.