In a former polemical life, and at a different portal than this one, I authored an occasional column called Shane’s Excellent New Words. The basic premise: “Because for some of us, words mean more than money.”
Specifically, the concept was aimed squarely at its namesake, a local consigliere who liked to joke in the fashion of Philistines everywhere that Roger used too many big words.
Accordingly, I harnessed as many of these difficult multisyllabic words as possible to torment him. Eventually he extracted his wallet from yonder rear pocket and hit me forcefully with his money. I conceded the inevitability of capitalism, and lived happily ever after with my beers and dry-roasted peanuts, reading actual books.
Now, for some beer wordplay. Classism versus classicism? The words have very different meanings.
classism [klas-iz-uh m] noun
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- a biased or discriminatory attitude based on distinctions made between social or economic classes.
- the viewing of society as being composed of distinct classes.
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There was a time when I knowingly, and even quite joyfully, copped the attitude of a classist as this notion pertains to beer. In fact, it was the basis for much of my early career in beer.
In the sense of social classes, my viewpoint held that mass-market beer drinkers were the willfully ignorant “clueless” class, suitable for abuse by those who had grasped higher “better beer” truth.
You might recall the Miller Lite advertising tag in the early 1990s: “It’s IT and that’s THAT.” My rejoinder was “It’s @#$%&!” and that’s THAT,” and the FOSSILS homebrewing club at the time even had shiny yellow buttons made as a form of classist provocation.
To be sure, I retain a great deal of contempt for the olfactory insipidity of mass-market beers (also hard seltzers, hard root beer and other juvenilia in libations), but to be honest, it all seems a bit silly these days, when an element of choice has returned to the beer market.
And, I will say in my defense that the abuse always was accompanied by unrelenting efforts to educate about beer for those inclined to pay attention.
A funny thing happened on the way to the quorum, because my better beer side “won,” not in terms of sheer numbers controlled by the brewing industrialists, but in the sense that the beer world actually was altered. Suddenly an example or two of better beer could be found almost was everywhere, in bars and barber shops, at barbecues and bar mitzvahs.
In the beginning, it seemed that stylistic diversity would be the reward for the diligent efforts of beer pioneers like me, except it came to pass that I awoke one morning to find the world hadn’t changed quite to my liking.
In fact, an old pattern of limited choice began repeating itself.
Now everyone knew about good beer, although only for so long as the libation in question referred to itself as an IPA; later, sours and pastry stouts also dialed the cliché (too bad about Morrissey). Other styles and traditions were completely abandoned by the attention-deficit-impelled New Wave, as motivated by images as opposed to words.
To be sure, beer consciousness became exponentially wider than before, but at the expense of depth; now a mile wide, it was only centimeter (or less) deep.
It was back to the drawing board. Being a contrarian by nature, as well as benefiting from long years of practice, this implied both a refit and rethink. I emerged from the skull session as a proud beer classicist.
classicism [klas-uh-siz-uh m] noun
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- the principles or styles characteristic of the literature and art of ancient Greece and Rome.
- adherence to such principles.
- the classical style in literature and art, or adherence to its principles (contrasted with romanticism).
- a Greek or Latin idiom or form, especially one used in some other language.
- classical scholarship or learning.
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Toward this end, and for my present purposes, “classicism” is a composite of the words in bold, and suggests a preponderance of the fifth definition, “classical scholarship or learning.” In short, it’s back to beer basics and familiarity with all the styles, not just two or three. The fundamental things apply, as beer drinking time slips by.
Everything I tried to do with the highly successful beer program at my most recent pub position (I believe the name rhymed with PrintSeclusion, or some such, now relocated and reduced to touting the dubious virtues of bland Banquet) was centered on a classicist approach to beer, emphasizing long-held values while not excluding the new, but contextualizing the past 30-odd years within the framework of classicism.
As an examples, Pilsner Urquell, Guinness, Fuller’s and Paulaner Hefe-Weizen were on tap, all the time, as unimpeachable Euro-classics.
At the same time, we consistently sold a keg a week of Bell’s Two Hearted. It’s an American-style IPA, which implies New Wave in beer-think, but actually originated two decades ago in the heartland at the very inception of the IPA upsurge. There is a balance and an elegance to Bell’s Two Hearted borne of care and experience. It is a classicist’s IPA.
The classicist approach would have worked without imported beers at all: Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, Rogue Dead Guy, Great Lakes Edmund Fitzgerald Porter, and even Sam Adams Boston Lager or Yuengling Golden Pilsner, would form the heart of a solid, consistent and profitable draft beer lineup.
And yes, the pub where I worked (Gents&Fusion?) sold mass-market beer, too. On that particular front, it involved me getting over myself, and I succeeded … most of the time. I was able to whittle down our mass-market beers to seven or eight consistent sellers, stocked in cans and bottles, so as not to take up valuable draft slots.
(And why refrain from offering mass-market beers on draft? Because it isn’t necessary, and you’ll make a higher return on craft beer or imports. Mass-market beer fans are fervently brand loyal, and they prefer cans and bottles because the packages are labeled, and they can be seen drinking their self-identity. Go here and learn more.)
I’ve highlighted the closing sentences of this coda, which specifically address music. However, the universality and symmetry with beer should be evident.
Many enjoy classical concerts, and for many different reasons. For veteran subscribers, those reasons will often be a combination of social and professional, as well as inspirational. But it is the rarity of the occasion of classical events that give us the feelings of ease, elegance, thoughtful study, even moral purpose and clarity. People dress up, are especially civil, and expect to experience some of humanity’s highest artistic achievements. Some enjoy that we can all feel classy together; enjoying a lifestyle we can’t afford. Symphony Hall and the Opera House will do that, but this has more to do with a classicism that says everyone deserves beauty, and must not be mistaken for classism that says only the cogniscenti deserve beauty. The former can unite us all, while the class warfare of the latter divides us.
This week’s cover photo is of Jean-Louis Dits, the firmly classicist founder of the Brasserie A Vapeur (steam brewery) in Pipaix, Belgium (photo from 2000, taken by Buddy Sandbach).
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Previously at Hip Hops:
Hip Hops: Blind taste tests dispense with purely visual beer (label) adulation
Roger Baylor is an entrepreneur, educator, and innovator with 
