Artist: Excepter

Album: Presidence

Reviewer: Jonathan Dean

Tiny Mix Tapes, 2010

Writing Disorders: Jargon Palsy, Infectious Punctuation, Toxic Tedium








Comma Foul: “It should be noted, however, that Excepter do not promise resolution, or even coherence, to their audience.”

Most Sterile Phrase: “the group seems to eschew the notion that their explorations are leading to a terminus or apotheosis”




Jonathan, I’ ma call you Jon because the full name gets me too aroused. And since I already nicknamed Jonathan Keefe with an H, you get the Jon Arbuckle spelling. So, Jon, let’s start with a snip from your review I think sums up the whole 800-word disaster:

“the word ‘tedious’ comes to mind”

Jon, this review was so skull-numbing that I forgot I had a brain for a minute or two. I’m assuming your aim as a writer is to attract readers, not generate the most groans per minute per paragraph of text. Crap like this has me wondering though:

“These improvisations are rhizomatic — not predicated on the assumption that structure is a desirable endpoint, but rather content to allow song structure to bubble up and dissolve with its own logic and duration.”

Jon, that’s not a word. Even if a reader remembered enough botany to know you meant an adjective based on the origin of a plant’s root system, he’d probably still struggle to connect it with the rest of your BS. Did you seriously use the phrase “predicated on the assumption” in a music review? It’s not a legal brief, Jon. Sometimes people dance to this stuff. Well, when in Rome, I guess. My belief that you can change your awful writing is predicated on the assumption that you have any moxie left in those balls. Here’s to hoping.

Let’s imagine for a moment that I’m a listener curious about Excepter. Maybe I’ve heard some scuttlebutt round town that their music pops boners or drove some poor girl to get jiggy with it. In my quest to know more, I stumble on your review:

“Their longform, improvised jams are not rooted in post-punk or psych-pop like those of their neighbors Black Dice and Animal Collective. Unlike Gang Gang Dance, they do not tend towards deconstructions of worldbeat, nor do they engage with the minimalist drone traditions that inform the work of Growing. And although their instrumental palette…”

Never mind. This band sounds dull to the third power. You know why, Jon? You sucked the life out of it. Look dude, most readers aren’t drafting a Pentagon report on the Brooklyn noise scene. You think you could have sexed this up a little bit by leaving out the long division? This is music, not inventory. Even if this band didn’t light your fire, you might have extended a shred of respect by not making them boring by proxy.

Take a knee, Jon – this is a teachable moment. You see, reading detailed descriptions of what a band’s music sounds like is like reading a transcript of a basketball game. In case you haven’t noticed, we no longer live in a world where experiencing new music means enduring radio DJs or taking a trip to the local record store. Back then it made some sense to translate an album into paragraphs of Helvetica so folks could ration their time and money. Things have thankfully changed. If internet users want to sample a band, they can use any number of free listening services, and they can do it immediately. If you want to put a band’s sound in context, then do it with snappy points and hyperlinks, not this:

“Excepter have been ritualistically refining their own brand of shambolic, drug-damaged, future-shock folk, balancing tense, psychedelic profundity with a lackadaisical disaffection bordering on camp.”

Or this:

“uses the basic kosmische template to create a minimal soundscape propelled by a chugging analog synth and a kraut-inspired bass rhythm, embellished with ornamental flute trills”

If you don’t want to get with the times, you might at least consider injecting some personality into your writing. If you shoved some first-person shims under this whole wobbly table bending under the weight of your jargon, you might have reached some balance. It’s not a bad idea for an opinion writer to actually express an opinion every once in a while with the words “I,” “me,” “my” or “mine.” Plus you get the added bonus of coming off as a person, not a robot programmed to link contemporary artists with made-up adjectives. If you’re really that boring in real life, then I think you’re in the wrong field here. As a writer, you’re a communicator, Jon. And a communicator without charisma is pretty useless.