Kurt Anderson pointed that out in his 2020 book Evil Geniuses -- and earlier in a 2011 article in Vanity Fair:
Mike Lofgren, writing in 2025:
A long-standing cliché has it that politics lies downstream of culture, and if conventional political or economic rationales fail to explain our current crisis, then perhaps culture — using that word in its broader sense — is the place to find answers. The course of American culture over the last 50 to 60 years has some surprising resonances with the decay of our democratic institutions.
Is there anyone who still remembers the release of the film “West Side Story” in 1961? Aside from being a hit, it was artistically groundbreaking: The music was daringly polyphonic. Leonard Bernstein’s score represented a significant and “difficult” departure from standard, hummable melodic show tunes of the Rodgers and Hammerstein variety. Yet the broad popular audience ate it up, as they did the avant-garde dance choreography. It was both a critical and popular success.
Fast forward four or five years, and “West Side Story” already seemed embarrassingly outdated. The idea of teenage delinquents in ducktail haircuts strolling through the Manhattan slums, clicking their fingers in unison and protecting their turf, was already quaint lore from the half-forgotten Eisenhower era. The Vietnam War was raging, American cities were burning, university campuses were stirring with protest. The Jets and Sharks seemed pretty pointless after a presidential assassination, a war, Black Power and nascent feminism. What was contemporary and cutting edge in 1961 seemed, by the mid-’60s, as a pre-World War II Fred Astaire musical.
By about 1966, even the early 1960s folk revival, which brought us Bob Dylan and Joan Baez, was being rendered obsolete by the British invasion led by the Beatles and Rolling Stones, which in turn gave way to acid rock, blues rock, heavy metal and their numerous offshoots. Each genre reflected the rapid evolution of political and social events in the larger society. All was constant churn and movement; there was considerable dross, but also genuine, spontaneous creativity. One can look at documentary footage of the era and often tell, within a year or two, when it was shot by the evolving dress, style and turns of phrase, so quickly did the culture change.
By contrast, consider the TV sitcom “Seinfeld.” Its huge success, critically and in ratings, is well known, and it has garnered numerous awards. One reviewer went so far as to say, “It may be the first situation comedy truly to achieve the status of art.” Its final episode aired in 1998, but the series has been broadcast continuously since then, first in syndication and then through streaming. “Seinfeld” is, in relative terms, nearly as popular now (considering the fragmentation of entertainment media and its viewership) as it was when it was a first-run show.
What is so culturally significant about “Seinfeld”? One can view an episode that is three decades old and, except for the shoebox-sized mobile phones, nearly everything in the dress, slang and behavior of the characters looks contemporary with 2025. The street scenes in New York could almost have been filmed today, as do the interiors. Consider this contrast: If we had viewed “The Maltese Falcon” or “Sullivan’s Travels” in 1971, we would immediately have been conscious of how different the physical appearance and texture of the American scene was in 1941.
It has become that way across the board. Once upon a time, each decade had its own distinctive look in dress and music, and the appearance of architecture, cars, furnishings and appliances changed noticeably, about every 20 years. Now, except for electronic gadgetry, the physical façade of American life, as well as its cultural manifestation in popular entertainment, is roughly the same as it was in about 1985.
Mike Lofgren, writing in 2025:
A long-standing cliché has it that politics lies downstream of culture, and if conventional political or economic rationales fail to explain our current crisis, then perhaps culture — using that word in its broader sense — is the place to find answers. The course of American culture over the last 50 to 60 years has some surprising resonances with the decay of our democratic institutions.
Is there anyone who still remembers the release of the film “West Side Story” in 1961? Aside from being a hit, it was artistically groundbreaking: The music was daringly polyphonic. Leonard Bernstein’s score represented a significant and “difficult” departure from standard, hummable melodic show tunes of the Rodgers and Hammerstein variety. Yet the broad popular audience ate it up, as they did the avant-garde dance choreography. It was both a critical and popular success.
Fast forward four or five years, and “West Side Story” already seemed embarrassingly outdated. The idea of teenage delinquents in ducktail haircuts strolling through the Manhattan slums, clicking their fingers in unison and protecting their turf, was already quaint lore from the half-forgotten Eisenhower era. The Vietnam War was raging, American cities were burning, university campuses were stirring with protest. The Jets and Sharks seemed pretty pointless after a presidential assassination, a war, Black Power and nascent feminism. What was contemporary and cutting edge in 1961 seemed, by the mid-’60s, as a pre-World War II Fred Astaire musical.
By about 1966, even the early 1960s folk revival, which brought us Bob Dylan and Joan Baez, was being rendered obsolete by the British invasion led by the Beatles and Rolling Stones, which in turn gave way to acid rock, blues rock, heavy metal and their numerous offshoots. Each genre reflected the rapid evolution of political and social events in the larger society. All was constant churn and movement; there was considerable dross, but also genuine, spontaneous creativity. One can look at documentary footage of the era and often tell, within a year or two, when it was shot by the evolving dress, style and turns of phrase, so quickly did the culture change.
By contrast, consider the TV sitcom “Seinfeld.” Its huge success, critically and in ratings, is well known, and it has garnered numerous awards. One reviewer went so far as to say, “It may be the first situation comedy truly to achieve the status of art.” Its final episode aired in 1998, but the series has been broadcast continuously since then, first in syndication and then through streaming. “Seinfeld” is, in relative terms, nearly as popular now (considering the fragmentation of entertainment media and its viewership) as it was when it was a first-run show.
What is so culturally significant about “Seinfeld”? One can view an episode that is three decades old and, except for the shoebox-sized mobile phones, nearly everything in the dress, slang and behavior of the characters looks contemporary with 2025. The street scenes in New York could almost have been filmed today, as do the interiors. Consider this contrast: If we had viewed “The Maltese Falcon” or “Sullivan’s Travels” in 1971, we would immediately have been conscious of how different the physical appearance and texture of the American scene was in 1941.
It has become that way across the board. Once upon a time, each decade had its own distinctive look in dress and music, and the appearance of architecture, cars, furnishings and appliances changed noticeably, about every 20 years. Now, except for electronic gadgetry, the physical façade of American life, as well as its cultural manifestation in popular entertainment, is roughly the same as it was in about 1985.
