It's easy to say 'too bad, you're a gentrifier complaining about further gentrification', and I agree with that to some extent.
On the other hand, I think what the sentiment of this article is getting at is the frustration that comes with watching culture and community being washed away at a large scale. Sure, enclaves of artists/musicians/hackers may set up shop in various neighborhoods throughout a city, but early on it's never enough to really remove the feeling of culture and community of where one is on a whole. But then at a certain point you hit some sort of inflection point where the flood gates open and the entire city feels foreign. This happened to Manhattan a while ago. Sure it's still uniquely New York, and it's still an amazing place that I love, but it's a borough for the wealthy now.
I encountered this feeling of resentment towards post-flood-gate gentrifiers recently on a subway ride on the Q train back into Brooklyn. If you've ever spent any significant time on the Q train you've probably experienced the emergency doors on one side of the train open, followed by a group of young guys entering the car exclaiming "It's show time!", followed by all sorts of acrobatic break dancing. It might not be all that amazing the 20th time, but it is what it is. A couple weeks ago this familiar act began happening and, at the risk of sounding prejudiced, a new-wave gentrifying girl yelled "Oh, no! Stop! I hate this!" while giving a stank face to everyone. My initial reaction: this is NYC, specifically Brooklyn, and it's for moments like this that we live here, so what are you doing here?
I had realized that Brooklyn had changed significantly, but for some reason this made me realize it's nearing the point of no return. You see people charging $2700 for 1 bedrooms in Bushwick and Bentleys cruising on Flatbush and realize the charm of the entire place is in danger of being lost.