Album: Isis/Melvins Split

Reviewer: Jess Harvell

Pitchfork, 2010

Writing Disorders: Infectious Punctuation, Idea Fever, Scorn Disease








Use a Thesaurus: “a bit of a dull”

Don’t Ask Don’t Tell: “I don’t mean that in a disparaging way at all”

HA: “climaxes are so restrained you can almost miss them,” “tight but heavy”




Jess, we both have our shortfalls. I write like a dick and you write like a bitch. Apples and oranges. Bands seem to like me though. Maybe because I don’t tee off like this:

It’s probably asking too much of two songs…Nonetheless, it’s a bit of a dull adieu.

Glad you went ahead and asked too much anyway, since the world could always use more people who ask too much.  By the way, what’s a real dull adieu?

Jess, this is the third time you’ve been heckled here, and it’s not just a lurid sexual fetish.  I haven’t muscled my way to your level of unpaid gigs, but I don’t think writing’s your strong suit.

(Admittedly with a few stylistic changeups along the way.)

What is that?  An advertising disclaimer?  Two questions are jostling to the fore here, Jess. Why the parentheses and why the period?  Am I supposed to imagine you whispering racy secrets about “stylistic changeups” in my ear? Good, because I am.

Tell you what — let’s put your last bit behind the one from the Sentence Protection Program so they can hump. I want to see why the catcher doesn’t want an independent clause in the chute:

Then Isis… kept going. (Admittedly with a few stylistic changeups along the way.)

Jess, there’s a reason no 50-foot spaghetti gun popped up in Doom.  Using something like that to kill an imp would be ridiculous, just like penning a whole new sentence in parentheses when a comma would have worked wonders.  (Readers, she did this again. She clamped the same curvy chastity belt on a 40-word sentence down the line. Read this quietly though, maybe in a Clive Owen voice. I don’t want her to hear.)

You know what I think your problem is, Harvell?  You write like you’re still in high school. Not just the emotalics and the crummy punctuation either. I’m talking English class on puberty. You know…why say a story includes something when you can say it’s PLAGUED by it?

The same problem plagues “Way Through Woven Branches” and “The Pliable Foe” here.

…

Two more Isis songs are wheeled into the ER…

Nurse: They keep coming in.  What’s wrong with these PEOPLE?

Doctor: I don’t know, Emma, I don’t KNOW.  But I suspect the music is too static to achieve any sort of real grandeur!

…

I hear the cure for the plague is recording something better. Oh, but that would take work and creativity. My bad.

I don’t want to be here all morning, Jess, so let’s take a quick look at those emotalics:

surprisingly nimble

didn’t plan

finally let loose

adieu

Am I supposed to shout that stuff in my head or are they breath markers to remind me not to pass out from boredom? Sure glad I gulped some air before I was told that I could “only hope they’ll explore it for a little longer.” Wasn’t a total loss though. Try reading “surprisingly nimble” without picturing the Melvins prancing like leprechauns. Hardee’s har har, $2.99.

Jess, let me know when senior year’s over.  I’ll clap you through graduation from times when girls pick on girls, and those girls pick on music.

Album: Recovery

Reviewer: Jayson Greene

Pitchfork, 2010

Writing Disorders: Infectious Punctuation, Scorn Disease








Longest Sentence: 64 words

Irony: “he actually sounds clumsy”




Jayson, I always enjoy when music lice write about rap releases they don’t like. They usually devote at least one full paragraph to how awful they think the rhymes are, and whoa, you didn’t break precedent. I’m one to favor an artist over a louse, so let’s see how your own lines stack up. How about your opening sentence for starters?

“Watching Eminem attempt to re-situate himself in the pop landscape the past year or so has been a bizarre spectacle.”

If you’re gonna pluck a man’s pubes one by one, try aiming straight. Read that sentence again closely. In case you didn’t smell the fish, I’ll move it closer to your nose:

“Watching Eminem attempt to re-situate himself in the pop landscape the past year or so has been a bizarre spectacle.”

How was watching alone a bizarre spectacle? Were you stuffing beef liver up a tube sock with your feet while you shot the upskirt? If you meant the guy’s attempt to re-situate was bizarre, you might have written it that way. The editors of Pitchfork seem to be doing everything but reading the opening lines of featured reviews. Thank god for good Samaritans, huh?

Jayson, if I didn’t think rating music was for parasites, I’d still say a review in the 2/10 range shouldn’t include the words “almost,” “nearly,” and “sort of” in any context. Despite giving this album a definitive failing grade, you still kinda/sorta’d your way to bareback fence sitting:

“seeming almost puppyishly eager”

What does that even mean? What’s almost puppyish? We talking 2-year-old mutt behavior or are you just afraid to make a point without two adverbs dry humping the adjective?

Coming back to you hating his rhymes, I wonder if you loathed Eminem’s “Donkey with Parkinson’s” bit because it hit too close to home. After all, you’re prone to tics and stutters that could crop up in any given music review on any given site, Jayson. Most involve hyphens:

“post-Encore slumber”

“Diane Warren-esque”

“unwieldy rap-rock hybrids”

OH, this one’s my favorite though:

“the body of 1999-era Slim Shady”

Jayson, a year is not an era. It’s a year. Or it’s The Slim Shady LP.

I still need to beat my meat and water the plants this morning, Jayson, so I’m going to wind this down. There was one line in your review that really made me cringe:

“He reels off an astonishing amount of cringe-worthy lines”

I suppose it would ruin the journalistic integrity of the piece if you wrote that Eminem’s lines made YOU cringe. Jesus, do you even read what you’re writing down half the time? You’re suggesting that this guy’s lyrics are worthy of displeasure, as if it’s a blue ribbon at the Inquisition. All these retarded phrases might be written in music lice DNA for all I know. I can’t imagine why anyone would write them otherwise.

Now that you’ve brought it up, let’s see if you’re cringe-worthy, Elaine. I’ve featured a video you might recognize and readers might enjoy. Underneath, they can record their reaction. I recommend turning off the HD before watching.







What do you think, folks? Record your vote now!

Who knows, dude?  Maybe you’ll get featured a-fucking-gain on RipFork for a third time. Just keep doing what you’re doing and you’ll get there.

Album: Omni

Reviewer: Ian Cohen

Pitchfork, 2010

Writing Disorders: Jargon Palsy, Ambiguity Sickness








Most Emo Phrase: “You confront that awkwardness from the first second”

Beer or Music?: “lite-funk trappings”




Ian, I originally planned on featuring you in a post about Pitchfork’s dugout being bereft of black folk. And yes, through the magic of Facebook and Google, I’m able to check such things. I settled on you because whenever Pitchfork probes a record with two scowling black men on the cover, there’s a good chance your name’s in the byline. In the end I figured it wasn’t worth inciting hysteria by suggesting it’s dumb reserving beats and rhymes for a white guy who writes about hip hop like Victorian cabinetry. I fully support people’s God-given right to type pretentious jargon about any genre of music regardless of color or race. The more the merrier for me. But it’s still queer how most music jargon’s typed by hands lighter than a latte.

Anyway, I decided not to blow the racial powder keg, but focus on your review of a band that would get red at the beach. There’s still plenty to joke about. Let’s start with your opening:

“Indie rock has often had an uneasy relationship with sex. While some bands in that realm are capable of carnality and seduction, many would rather let the sonics do the work, and lyrically, it can be tough to reconcile base sensations with music that prides itself on its intelligence.”

Um…judging from that, I’d say your unease is squirmier than any band’s. “It can be tough to reconcile the base sensations?” Wow. Do you make partners flash zoning permits before entering your bed or are you still in the planning phase? If you can’t knock a band’s bedroom jazz without making it sound clinical, maybe you should ease off the barb pedal. Half your review was devoted to niggling the singer’s idea of fucking after all:

“adding a creepy dimension to the keg-hovering come-ons”

“You don’t need to be a soul-papa belter in order to talk about the passion”

“lyrics about the pleasures of the flesh that would be sketchy enough”

Hey, at least the guy sings about what’s coming out of his pleasure center. Maybe you could have provided us some of your own sexual poetry for comparison, Ian. I certainly would have enjoyed it. Moving on…

There’s heaps of junk here I could rattle about for days, but I’m bound by editing. Here’s a good example of the opposite of that:

“for a veteran band like Minus the Bear, newly signed to Dangerbird Records and known in the past for knotted, prog-spiked populist indie, it’s a move of baffling awkwardness.”

Female: Whatcha listening to?

Male: Minus the Bear.

Female: OH, I’ve heard about them! Aren’t they known for knotted, prog-spiked populist indie?

Male: [coldly]…Not anymore.

Jesus H. Christ, how about writing, “It’s an awkward move?” You know, like applying 3 levels of made-up taxonomy to a band is AN AWKWARD MOVE. Baffling awkwardness…yeesh. I ’ma drop another editing fail of yours, Ian. You could use the help admitting you have a problem.

“And yet, in a weird way Omni is actually kind of admirable.”

I had a high school English teacher who used to embarrass students by saying “kind of” like Yogi Bear every time they dropped word junk in discussions. If only you were so lucky. You already wrote “in a weird way.” You don’t need to follow it with “kind of.”

I wondered how you burned so many words on an album you detested ‘fore I realized you fluffed things up with critical catch phrases. You got a manual compiled for quick reference? This review’s chock full of cotton balls. Here’s a few in case you can’t pick them out on your own:

“it also boasts an immediacy and pop smarts”

“the issue lies in the incongruity of the delivery”

“pop and sheen that would make the most anonymous of 1980s corporate rockers proud”

Ian, if you click on “Read a Random Rip” on the right side of RipFork, you’ll probably come across something like those featherweights in other crappy reviews. They’re a common affliction in your occupation.

I’m sure you need to study up on the latest pseudo-underground hum-thump populist-hop, so I’m going to cap this off with your one piece of faint praise for the band:

“And credit Minus the Bear for aiming to be something than just another competent indie band.”

If only they weren’t so clueless about what Ian Cohen likes.

Album: Speculation

Reviewer: Patrick Sisson

Pitchfork, 2010

Writing Disorders: Ambiguity Sickness








Clumsiest Phrase: “neither over-intellectualizing nor over-sentimentalizing”




Patrick, how long did you spend writing this review? 30 minutes? 45? Did you actually listen to the whole album or did you just skim a couple tracks so you could catch “Goldberg” and still type something out before your deadline? You might as well have just written two words and been done. “It’s looser.”

You see, Patrick, by virtue of my time as a music louse, I know when a review’s half-assed. There were times when procrastination left only the night before a deadline to listen to a band’s work of art and write something about it. Then the BS would start flowing to fill the cracks. You know what I’m talking about. There’s enough go-to music jargon in your review to fill a reference manual. Ahem…

“a sense of immediacy”

“plenty of propulsion and muscle”

“growing sense of looseness”

“an organic element”

“a real sense of play and exploration”

I’m starting to think “sense of immediacy” is the equivalent of “um” in music writing, while “sense of urgency” is “uh”. Since I still don’t know what the hell it really means, I’ve opened up the topic for discussion on the RipFork Facebook page. Feel free to add your input, Patrick. Going back to your jargon though, here’s my favorite bit of insulation:

“they know how to finesse electronic timbres and human melodies, neither over-intellectualizing nor over-sentimentalizing their songs”

That’s a pretty blanket statement, Patrick. Think maybe you could have provided us a frame of reference by naming a couple of guilty musical peers, some lyrics, or even a definition of what “over-intellectualizing” would be? Right now I’m picturing this band as somewhere between Neutral Milk Hotel and Meat Loaf. Is that pretty close to the mark or should I go with The Decemberists and Bryan Adams?

Before you get to asking why I can’t be less willfully retarded, rest assured that some of your points just don’t make sense:

“To Rococo Rot’s skill lies in making electronic-infused post-rock engaging where most other bands fiddling with sculpted synths and cyclic bass lines settle for crafting something tasteful.”

I don’t get it. Does To Rococo Rot make music about exploding monkey dicks while others “settle” for songs about quiet tea parties and afternoon croquet? I don’t understand how “tasteful” and “engaging” are mutually exclusive like you’re suggesting here. Mr. Phil Collins has handily proven time and again that a musician can make music both tasteful AND engaging. I think you’ve got your antonyms mixed up.

At least your lazy review was short, Patrick, so I’m going to wrap this up in honor of that momentous achievement. But I will say in closing that if you need any further evidence pointing to a rush job; just remember you wrote the word “fiddling” twice.

Album: …And Then We Saw Land

Reviewer: Andrew Gaerig

Pitchfork, 2010

Writing Disorders: Jargon Palsy, Ambiguity Sickness








Stuffiest Phrases: “factoring in the tendency,” “might say more about the prevalence of folk and electronic elements in modern indie”

Wow: “sort of remarkable”




Andrew, I noticed you had two reviews up on Pitchfork yesterday, so maybe this weakling is just a sign of being overworked. Good news! I hear now’s a great time to book a vacation away from writing lab reports on albums. The travel rates are low to sunny destinations where people listen to music for fun, not vivisection. After all, if you hadn’t tried to make this review into some profound commentary on a band struggling to fit into the “avant-folk crowd” and instead just focused on how the music affected you, it might not have been so awful. Maybe you wouldn’t have penned crud like this:

“Tunng now record folk songs that are sweetly… sweet. That’s an indictment, but less of one than it seems.”

Wow, thanks for clarifying. I was one step away from phoning my congressman to redress that whopper. Let me get this straight. Not only did you have to explicitly state you were indicting something, but you had to reassure us it’s less of an indictment than one that wasn’t clear enough in the first place? Are you soft in the head, Gaerig, or just full of sawdust?

From most angles here, I’d say the latter. I suppose plugging holes in logic isn’t a pressing concern for writers on a website that doesn’t allow comments, but I’m still annoyed. To wit:

“Tunng probably never deserved the laborious mini-genres they’ve been tagged with, as they fit neatly in a tradition of British bands who have a slightly warped take on pastoral folk”

Oh, and slightly warped pastoral folk isn’t a laborious mini-genre? I’m pretty sure you just tagged the species, genus, and family there, Linnaeus. Uncork the champagne; we’ve got a new organism for the books!

“Tunng’s fourth album, …And Then We Saw Land, contains few of the appealing crevices and pocks of their early work, but sees them developing as songwriters.”

This is getting ridiculous. How does an album of sounds “see” anything? That’s like saying a patched-up shoe sees a man developing as a cobbler. If you’re adamant about letting a noun like “album” lead the active voice, at least say that it shows, demonstrates, exhibits, reveals – that kind of stuff. Better yet:

“Tunng’s songwriting develops on their fourth album, …And Then We Saw Land.”

Golly, will you look at that! No anthropomorphizing and no vague references to “crevices and pocks” that could mean anything in music.  Are those the same “well-worn eccentricities” that you gave a cursory mention, or am I just not reading your filler closely enough? Oh well. If I struck out on those fluff bunnies, maybe I can boost my average down the line. There’s plenty of padding to go around. Check out these meaty insights:

“Tunng have outgrown and outlasted the restrictive genres they were once boxed into, but Saw Land struggles to find its place in a larger context.”

“Even factoring in the tendency for bands to grow less weird as they get older, Tunng’s move toward the middle is sort of remarkable.”

Here’s a fun activity, Andrew. Write out a list of all the adjectives you can think of and put the words “sort of” before each. It might be sort of illuminating. Before you do that though, tell your editor to check his BS filter. Looks like a whole lot got through the screen there. “Struggles to find its place in the larger context?” Wow, did you pay a buck ninety nine for that on QVC or did your dog write it? Two parts ambiguity isn’t the best recipe for a closing sentence.

Speaking of ambiguity, for someone who etched a decimal rating on this album with a laser, you don’t exactly make a strong case in the body.

“That’s an indictment, but less of one than it seems”

“songs that seem burlier”

“they seem a bit too Grizzly Bear”

“The Roadside” seems like something”

Andrew, I’m more likely to let an opinion writer out of the live well if he avoids absolutes, but if the word “seems” appears too much, it gives the impression he doesn’t know his ear from an anus. Maybe at this point you could have admitted you couldn’t see far enough up this band’s colon with your microscope and just said, “I liked this guitar riff” or “I didn’t care for that melody.” If people so dead-set on Grizzly Bear are going to skip this music, they’ll likely do it on the basis of sampling the songs, not your prose.

I’d love to stay, but it’s time to eat my Kashi, Andrew. Check Priceline for new low rates on that dream vacation to hemorrhoid-free music appreciation. It’s worth the price of admission.