Band: Boys Like Girls
Album: Love Drunk
Critic: Andrew Burgess
Publication: MusicOMH, 2010
Writing Disorders: Scorn Disease
Stuffiest Phrase: “a pseudo-punk rock band to soundtrack those slumber parties when the mood calls for something (very) slightly edgier”
Andrew, I like probing the psychology of people who poop on art for kicks, and your review gave me ample opportunity. Like fellow music critic Ian Roullier, you clearly detest millenials:
“That’s where Boys Like Girls comes in, filling that bouncing, trite, overproduced power(less)-pop niche for preteens who like to complain to Facebook about how Sharon So-and-so’s a bitch, and how, OMG, Johnny Football is just never going to ask them to the dance.”
Andrew, if some 6th grader said he’s picked boogers better than In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, would you maybe say he wasn’t mature enough to appreciate its “lo-fi power?” Well just maaaaybe there’s a similar age gap at work here. If this album is so obviously geared towards middle schoolers, why did you review it? Why didn’t you ask your editor to kindly send you a release that caters more to the demographic of married men with forearm tattoos?
That’s a question worth pondering. I figure there are three possible reasons you ended up with this album to review, even if your lengthy conniption really narrowed it down to one:
- MusicOMH sends random CDs to writers with clearly defined tastes in their own site bios
- At a time when nearly every band has a website or MySpace page with song samples to pre-screen, you somehow unwittingly picked an album you ended up hating
- You picked an album you knew you’d hate just to squeeze word turds on it for fun
So either your editor’s oblivious, you’re oblivious, or you’re kind of a dick. Take your pick. If you need help deciding, here are some butt bullets to illustrate:
“their defacto inclusion into the genre is something to cringe at”
“one radio-ready nugget of pop-rubbish after another”
“could have been honest and engaging if it weren’t so plagued with clichés”
Maybe I missed the memo where you’re God’s gift to music, but even if I did, I’d still think it’s rotten for a musician to write that junk about other musicians. Like a small minority of music critics, you actually play an instrument and record music when you’re not niggling others people’s. That actually brings me to my next point. Here’s your ninth insult:
“It’s positively begging to appear on an episode of Gray’s Anatomy.”
Andrew, I don’t know if you’ve ever listened to the music you’ve recorded and put up on MySpace, but midtempo acoustic numbers with barely audible vocals aren’t much further from a McSteamy montage. And while we’re on the subject, why is it so awful for a band of heterosexual males to land their song on a show watched primarily by women? Maybe it’s not as satisfying as the 73 plays your stuff has gotten, but I wouldn’t complain if my music got women thinking, “I want to go down on his voice with my ear.”
Here’s my beef, Andrew. You’re so hung up on carping in the most devastating way possible that you end up making a string of really dumb arguments. Here’s a taste:
“They’re not even emulating Bon Jovi’s heyday, opting instead for what must have been blaring from their own stereos in their mums’ basements at high school parties”
Whoa, musicians emulating music they enjoyed listening to in their formative years? That’s positively CRIMINAL. I know some children aren’t fortunate enough to “discover the meaning of life” from the 8 songs on Born to Run like you did, but berating someone for not emulating the “right” part of a catalog is pretty weak.
Here’s another bit that caught my eye:
“This album will get a lot of confused, reality-television-obsessed kids through breakups, hang-ups and prom night woes.”
How is that any worse than other music getting 20-somethings through the travails of the office grind and online dating; or 30-somethings through the horror of weight gain, family life, and the discovery of infidelity through a spouse’s email? Every song has its audience, Andrew, and not every audience is you. Bear in mind that you’re the grown-up who blew through six paragraphs explaining how this music isn’t for grown-ups. Now that’s something to cringe at.
Good luck with that novel.