Tuesday, 22 November 2011

Ferocious noise: Pitchfork’s Music Reviews

I wrote another article about things I don't like about music reviews, but this time I tried really hard and it got published on the wonderful Shouting At Cows site, which was nice of them. Enjoy?

“Ferocious Noise.”  This one fairly clumsy descriptive couplet used pointedly as a sentence to describe one poor band’s album has got me up at night. Nothing so far this week has angered me like this; an affront to common sense, a beastly exercise in self-satisfied pretention. The paragraph preceding this had been a set-up for a review, a mediocre thousand words or so, on an album so ludicrously named only the severely fashionable would ever say it out loud. Six out of ten. Fairly average for something so seemingly memorable. “Ferocious noise”. So ferocious it may get played from time to time on nights where all the girls have bowl cuts, and all the boys chain smoke thin Cutter’s Choice rollies and debate Stanley Kubrick’s choices in direction, lighting, music choice and underwear. Judgemental, yes, but they’re the ones with half-mast drainpipe jeans and cheap cigarettes despite their ample bank balance. This isn’t an article about trendy people though, this is an article about how truly, achingly, horrendously shit two thirds of music reviews are – and I blame Pitchfork.


No comments:

1. 4.
There was an error in this gadget
Related Posts with Thumbnails