Post by joc on Feb 10, 2010 20:43:57 GMT -5
Below is an excellent refutation of the Pitchfork style of review written by Tim Midgett of Silkworm on the Electrical Audio web board.
The problem with these retards is a common one in modern music journalism.
In an attempt to establish credibility, reviewers often have a desire to seem impartial. And in the pursuit of seeming impartial, they want nothing more than to distance themselves from the material they are reviewing. Invariably, this distance is created vertically, by denigrating the material and not so subtly elevating themselves.
These writers end up caviling and dithering and coming up with meaningless, vaguely insulting turns of phrase, instead of cutting to the heart of why one should or should not care about the art at hand. Their primary concern is to elevate themselves above their subject matter by suggesting a comprehension of it so complete that they are incapable of being touched or intrigued or surprised.
The flip side of this phenomenon is the review that hinges on details about the reviewer's personal life. Rather than attempt to be 'above it all,' the reviewer becomes 'it all,' giving the reader various details about his personal life that may well inform the reviewer's opinion of the art at hand, but leave no trace of critical thought behind.
Here is how to review a fucking record:
1. Listen to it (all the way through). If something is self-evidently terrible, once may be enough. But probably not. Let’s say five times, paying attention each time, is the minimum fair shake. If one feels there are loose ends to be tied up, don't quit and start writing about the loose ends. Play it again. If you cannot give it this much of a chance, you have no business writing about it.
2. Let the music engage you. Don’t get out the tweed jacket and pipe just yet, professor. Some kind of reaction is bound to come forth, and one needs to find that connection--even it is being left utterly cold--to make any kind of compelling case for or against a work of art.
3. Disengage from the record. Examine the feelings it engendered. Don’t feel the feelings. Just recall them and pick them apart.
4. Determine what aspect of your reaction to the record is in tune with what another human being of sufficient taste might experience when exposed to this music. Similarly, determine what aspect of your reaction is due to personal idiosyncrasy, emotional problems, drunkenness, brain damage, low blood sugar, etc. unless you're capable of making something truly artful out of the latter garbage, almost always throw almost all of it out. No one cares.
5. Write your review. Forget about impressing anybody. Just write down what you think.
You need to meet the record head-on. You cannot start out with it on a pedestal, you cannot regard it as a personal talisman, and you cannot start out laughing at it. You need to accept it on its own terms to even begin the process of evaluating it.
I’m not saying it is easy. It is not. But making records is a lot harder.
The problem with these retards is a common one in modern music journalism.
In an attempt to establish credibility, reviewers often have a desire to seem impartial. And in the pursuit of seeming impartial, they want nothing more than to distance themselves from the material they are reviewing. Invariably, this distance is created vertically, by denigrating the material and not so subtly elevating themselves.
These writers end up caviling and dithering and coming up with meaningless, vaguely insulting turns of phrase, instead of cutting to the heart of why one should or should not care about the art at hand. Their primary concern is to elevate themselves above their subject matter by suggesting a comprehension of it so complete that they are incapable of being touched or intrigued or surprised.
The flip side of this phenomenon is the review that hinges on details about the reviewer's personal life. Rather than attempt to be 'above it all,' the reviewer becomes 'it all,' giving the reader various details about his personal life that may well inform the reviewer's opinion of the art at hand, but leave no trace of critical thought behind.
Here is how to review a fucking record:
1. Listen to it (all the way through). If something is self-evidently terrible, once may be enough. But probably not. Let’s say five times, paying attention each time, is the minimum fair shake. If one feels there are loose ends to be tied up, don't quit and start writing about the loose ends. Play it again. If you cannot give it this much of a chance, you have no business writing about it.
2. Let the music engage you. Don’t get out the tweed jacket and pipe just yet, professor. Some kind of reaction is bound to come forth, and one needs to find that connection--even it is being left utterly cold--to make any kind of compelling case for or against a work of art.
3. Disengage from the record. Examine the feelings it engendered. Don’t feel the feelings. Just recall them and pick them apart.
4. Determine what aspect of your reaction to the record is in tune with what another human being of sufficient taste might experience when exposed to this music. Similarly, determine what aspect of your reaction is due to personal idiosyncrasy, emotional problems, drunkenness, brain damage, low blood sugar, etc. unless you're capable of making something truly artful out of the latter garbage, almost always throw almost all of it out. No one cares.
5. Write your review. Forget about impressing anybody. Just write down what you think.
You need to meet the record head-on. You cannot start out with it on a pedestal, you cannot regard it as a personal talisman, and you cannot start out laughing at it. You need to accept it on its own terms to even begin the process of evaluating it.
I’m not saying it is easy. It is not. But making records is a lot harder.