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Tom Breihan’s Review of “S-M 2: Abyss in B Minor” By Serena-Maneesh

Mar 25

Posted by Matt Wendus in Pitchfork | No Comments

Artist: Sheena-Maneesh

Album: S-M 2: Abyss in B Minor

Reviewer: Tom Breihan

Pitchfork, 2010

Writing Disorders: Infectious Punctuation, Jargon Palsy








Stuffiest Phrase: “it’s easy to admire the roiling conviction that makes the album go, but it’s a lot harder to love the actual songs that that conviction yields”

Critic Scabs: “XTRMNTR-era,” “quasi-medieval”




Tom, you’re one of those older music lice, so I don’t have any delusions about altering the course of your rotten writing. In a way, that makes pickling your prose more enjoyable on my end because I have no desire to help you. I can just boot your nads and twist.

Usually it takes me at least two sentences to gauge how lame a review’s going to be, but I didn’t even need to roam that far to get the inkling with yours:

“When Sufjan Stevens turned up in the credits to the self-titled 2006 debut from Norwegian fuzz-rockers Serena-Maneesh, it seemed pretty random — his fresh-faced orch-pop being about a million vibe-levels removed from their nodded-out lurch”

Tom, am I supposed to read this sentence or sing it out loud? There are so many little horizontal lines in your opening that it looks like Morse code at distances greater than three inches. Four hyphens in that last clause alone. That’s ridiculous. Two of those ionic compounds didn’t even NEED hyphens. Fuzz rockers. Vibe levels. You have a disorder.

I’m not going to let this slide. Did you have alien sex with Jess Harvell lately? The gene responsible for choosing another phrase over silly hyphenation seems to be completely burned out of your DNA:

“quasi-medieval flute-tootles”

“doom-metal riffage”

“the icy-beauty thing”

Tom, none of those phrases requires hyphenation with the exception of “quasi-medieval.” That one’s right. Congratulations. You have a disorder.

I’m going to move away from hyphens for a minute so I can lick some of your salt, Tom, because the salt tastes suspiciously like crap.

“the absurdly titled S-M 2: Abyss in B Minor”

How is that an absurd title? Do you have a rubric for determining whether or not an album name is worthy of favor? If so, I’m not getting it. Not three weeks ago you reviewed an album named “Snakes for the Divine” and there was no snide remark about that. Would it have helped if Serena-Maneesh enlisted Melvyn Grant to paint an actual abyss, or are you just more forgiving to metal releases because their fans are more likely to threaten to MMA your ass? Don’t feel too bad if that’s the case, Tom. I know the worst I’ll get from a miffed critic is a lengthy comment about how I’m a hypocrite for any number of reasons. I can take the blow.

I need to go to work soon, so let’s step away from the little things and move right into the spotty rash of a crux under your argument here. It has to do with the word “Loveless.”

“This time around, Serena-Maneesh face down the Loveless challenge more directly and bravely than any of their neo-shoegaze peers”

What challenge?

“But the problem with any album that invites this many comparisons to Loveless is simply that it’s not Loveless”

Really, Tom? I figured the real problem might be music critics comparing every band that decides to use a digiverb pedal to My Bloody Valentine. It doesn’t seem like every new hardcore album gets compared to Damaged or every thrash release to Master of Puppets, but whenever a band decides to use the trem bar when strumming distorted chords, it’s likely to be hammered for not living up to MBV’s second (and last) studio album. Who knows? Maybe these Serena people express their feelings best in a way that happens to sound like something else. I don’t think it qualifies as a made-up challenge to top another band’s release just because a writer can’t help but fall back on it to describe a band’s sound. That’s quasi-lazy, Tom.

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Larry Fitzmaurice’s Review of “Jet Lag” by Josiah Wolf

Mar 6

Posted by Matt Wendus in Pitchfork | 16 Comments

Artist: Josiah Wolf

Album: Jet Lag

Reviewer: Larry Fitzmaurice

Pitchfork, 2010

Writing Disorders: Idea Fever, Purple Hemorrhage








Critic Talk: “bizarre pop mutations,” “its more straightforward cousin,” “absurdist yarns that hold a weird car-crash fascination”




I want to take things slow here, Larry. I’m normally gung-ho ’bout reaming someone’s review without any foreplay, but I want shift down to second for a tick. Let’s set the mood — you know, dim the lights, put on our lacy thongs, and maybe see what kind of an album you’re dumping on here:

“The songs on the debut full-length from WHY? drummer Josiah Wolf were inspired by the dissolution of an 11-year relationship, as well as Wolf’s move back to the Midwest after years of living in California.”

And what better way to cheer the guy up than to give his debut album an F? I guess he had it coming though:

“Dropping a breakup album for your first LP seems a risky move. Listeners are just starting to get to know you, after all.”

Larry, here’s something to kick around your cortex. Do you think it’s a risky move because A), listeners are alienated by debut breakup albums, or B), that a music critic might have the gall to say an artist doesn’t provide the right soundtrack to his own emotional turmoil? I’m casting my lot in column B, but let’s see if we can work out yours:

“If Wolf could be accused of lyrical overcompensation, the opposite could be said about the music.”

“offbeat musings on praying naked in the shower…sound forced”

“Wearing your heart on your sleeve is one thing, but musically, Josiah Wolf isn’t really taking any risks here”

So…this guy made a risky move by not really taking any risks? I don’t follow. Also, how is it offbeat to mention praying naked on a record dominated by breakup stories? That don’t seem forced to me. You sure you weren’t just reaching for something to bust this guy’s chops on? Would you have gushed over this release if Wolf had skipped on the “attempts at surrealism” and just stuck to “the grief-stricken script?” I’m not convinced.

Know what?  Put your pants back on, Larry. I’m done with cuddling. Just grab a shovel instead so we can start pitching manure. Your second paragraph is a mess:

“Meanwhile, “Unused ‘I love you’s build up” in his throat in the somewhat cornily named “The Apart Meant”, after expressing the lonely sentiment that “For 11 years/ We didn’t touch another/ And now I can’t sleep,” in “Skull in the Ice”.”

Jesus Christ man, you can PARAPHRASE what the guy’s saying. Seems like he’d be more miffed you rated his debut album a 5.6 than if you summed up what he’s singing without direct quotes. Consider for a moment what you’ve done here. You’ve distinguished both song names and song lyrics by fencing them off with quotation marks. In that sentence above, the quoted bits outnumber the words holding them together. That’s not such a great recipe for comprehension cookies. And what’s with the pussy-footing adverbs? “Somewhat cornily?” Just be a man and say you’d name another man’s breakup song something else.

Did I mention pussy-footing? Here’s a nice pair of labia loafers:

“sort of competent but dull chamber-pop”

“half-decent ideas haphazardly grouped together”

Larry, where I come from, the phrase “sort of” is a mark of shame. Says a man’s too lazy to come up with a better word. If you can type a 500+ word review, you can consult a thesaurus. Also, isn’t “half-decent” 25% on the scale from horrible to excellent? Just say “bad.” In the meantime, careful you don’t slip on them clam waders.

Like other lice, you waited till the last paragraph to mention anything you liked about the album you’d just molested in the parking lot. Scratch that. I don’t even really know if there was any enjoyment on your end. All you did was give a wordy description of a couple songs without words like “haphazardly” or “jammed-together”

“Opener “The Trailer and the Truck” stretches and yawns via elongated guitar bends and bursts of concentrated drumming, while “Is the Body Hung” rolls with freak-folk touches and Wolf’s cracked vocals.”

Here’s a bit of advice, Larry. If you’re going to kick a musician in the crotch, try giving him the shiny penny before the boot in the pecker. Bit of etiquette, you might say.

Now put on that thong. Let’s see those creamy thighs.

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Stuart Berman’s Review of “Maintentant” by Gigi

Feb 28

Posted by Matt Wendus in Pitchfork | 7 Comments

Artist: Gigi

Album: Maintentant

Reviewer: Stuart Berman

Pitchfork, 2010

Writing Disorders: Jargon Palsy, Idea Fever, Toxic Tedium








Longest Sentence: 64 words

Stuffiest Phrase: “beyond this incongruity, there are redundancies”




Stuart, your awful writing might have slipped past my nets today if not for certain events in the Western Conference. When it became clear that Ivan Drago was going to beat the Nuggets, I figured I’d see what kind of dreadful slush made the cover of Pitchfork. Sure enough, there was plenty to dull the senses and strip music of all of its lure and beauty.

Honestly, do you ever feel ashamed of making all music sound like a trip to the dentist? Any album unlucky enough to feel the touch of your sterile hand ends up sounding like a cataclysm of boredom, regardless of how you felt about it.  To all the bands out there that Stuart Berman has written interminable tracts of fluff about: you have my sympathies.

Do you have any regard for an audience, Stuart, or do you just treat music writing as power training for your jargon muscle? It was hard to narrow down choice examples of your babble, but take these two for reference:

“Maintenant feels more an extension of a certain Vancouver-bred pop classicism– one that dates back to Carl Newman’s pre-New Pornographers outfit Zumpano”

“it serves to contemporize an album that both deliberately evokes– both in sound and collaborative process– early-60s Brill Building pop-song production”

Both, both, huh? I’ll live with just rolling my eyes at your shop talk, but I have a major bone to pick with your second paragraph, Stu. In the span of that ONE paragraph clocking in at less than 150 words, you mentioned 21 artists and bands. 21:

Gigi, Nick Krgovich, No Kids, Colin Stewart, Black Mountain, the Pipettes, Lucky Soul, Camera Obscura, Carl Newman, New Pornographers, Zumpano, Young and Sexy, Duffy Driediger, Ladyhawk, Veda Hille, Rose Melberg, Tiger Trap, The Softies, Karl Blau, Mirah, Owen Pallet

That’s a lot to keep tabs on in such a tight space. Look, I’m sure you’re beaming with pride after deciphering the connection between “soft-pop peers” of “Vancouver-scene mainstays,” but what you wrote reads like alphabet soup. If listeners are interested enough to want the complicated history of each band member and session contributor, then they can satisfy that urge with the liner notes and Google. Other folks might just want to know how you felt about the album you’re reviewing.

When that opinion finally comes, it’s in the usual castrated form of the third person making textbook observations:

“Driediger proves himself a surprisingly gentle crooner on the charming boys-do-cry serenade “The Hundredth Time”

“I’m Not Coming Out Tonight” channels its post-breakup desperation into a heavenly orchestral ascension”

How delightful! Sure makes me want to listen after I awake from this text-induced stupor. Stuart, I think your main problem is that you write about music as if it’s a social movement that took place in the 19th century. Reading through your jargon, I wouldn’t even know that you LISTENED to the music you’re describing. It could just as easily have been stitched together from a hundred sentence fragments you culled from search queries.

The Heat/Magic game just started, so let’s just skip to the conclusion and call it a night, okay? You need at least a decade to thaw out those balls.

“Still, as a paean to the past, Maintenant sounds right in the here and now– because for all their vintage dressing, Gigi are ultimately most interested in the bad romance that makes our present so tense.”

You know, Stuart, I call music critics “music lice” for several reasons, but few are more compelling than the closing sentences. I think it’s a slap in a band’s face when the writer can’t even use the word “I” in his opinion of their album, but he still cranks out that kind of self-absorbed chicken choke. It’s hard to read that closer after your mountain of academic slime and come to any other conclusion than thinking the only reason you’re writing about bands is to promote your name.

Well, let’s make it about you, Stu. Before you go, I’ve got one last request. A couple of people have objected to me doing this, but I really couldn’t resist. You might consider posting a picture of yourself where your eyes aren’t shifted to the 2:00 position over clenched lips. It looks creepy all lined up on Google. I fear for my liver.

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Stephen Deusner’s Review of “Peace and Love” by Juliana Hatfield

Feb 18

Posted by Matt Wendus in Pitchfork | 2 Comments

Artist: Juliana Hatfield

Album: Peace and Love

Reviewer: Stephen Deusner

Pitchfork, 2010

Writing Disorders: Detachment Syndrome, Scorn Disease, Jargon Palsy








Gross: “her kid-sister inflection might seem to undermine the maturity of her recent output”




Stephen, congratulations are in order. You’re the first music critic to be featured three times on RipFork. Bravo, league leader. You pulled ahead of a strong field of music writers who’ve made double appearances: Brent DiCrescenzo, Amy Granzin, Nate Patrin, Conrad Amenta, and Matt Wendus. If you bring the glasses, I’ll pop the bottle of André.

Nah, I’m just joking. I don’t trust myself with older men and the bubbly. Let’s just probe your latest disaster instead, shall we? You really did go Mike Dukakis apeshit here, shooting dull barbs at this Hatfield woman for not writing music pleasing to the 36-year-old dudes in the room.

“Peace & Love sounds like that stalest of 90s relics…”

Ooh, a riddle! Wait! Don’t tell me! Is it a 20-something Stephen Deusner?!

“…the unplugged album”

Damn, wrong guess. Yeah, I suppose just about anything has more flavor than that dreadful acoustic Nirvana album. That one’s a tooth breaker, no doubt. By the way, after the last dry turd you pinched out of Pitchfork, I think it’s pretty funny you used “stale” to describe any bread other than your own. Any of these rocky crumbs ring a bell?

“occasionally that beginner’s aesthetic leads to some nice moments”

“her songwriting sags with too many awkward rhyme schemes, clunky line meters, and come-together pronouncements”

Oh, here’s my favorite:

“In fact, it seems to be defined by Hatfield’s limitations rather than her strengths”

You know, Stephen, for all the folks harping on me for being an atrocious writer, at least I haven’t yet used the phrase “in fact, it seems.”

In fact, it seems like there’s a pattern forming here. I’ve read a clutch of your junk over the years, and there’s always been the same brown stripe smeared through it. You treat what you do as AP-ready journalism. You know, there IS a difference between writing an article about troop movements in the Marjah Offensive and writing how you think a Pipette’s song is “pop without the pop.” Yet whenever you’ve decided to claw the skin off people who play music that doesn’t quite give you a boner, you do it behind the shield of the third person, as if somehow you’re giving an objective take on events instead of your opinion of something entirely subjective.

Now why do you do that? Is it because you’re afraid of sounding like a complete dick if you put “I” in front of any of your reasons for rating someone’s art into the dirt? Are you anxious that it would blow your gravitas over if you wrote anything that resembled a man’s personal thoughts about music? After 13 years of writing this tepid slush, are you just incapable of owning up to it?

Regardless of your reasons, I think something you wafted out on a keyboard is a sorry-ass reason for artists to get shafted. Congratulations on the hat-trick though. I have no doubt you’ll raise the bar yet again. Nice scarf, btw.

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Stephen Deusner’s Review of “Thin Thin Line” by Kath Bloom

Feb 11

Posted by Matt Wendus in Pitchfork | No Comments

Artist: Kath Bloom

Album: Thin Thin Line

Reviewer: Stephen Deusner

Pitchfork, 2010

Writing Disorders: Idea Fever, Toxic Tedium







Longest Sentence: 53 words

Irony: “An earthy, unpretentious presence”



Stephen, you’re really freaking boring. You bore more than a wood borer through wood. And if you’ve ever split wood, you know those bugs can bore.

What exactly is your angle here? Appeal to people who enjoy their oatmeal both in the bowl and on the screen? Read some of this glop that forms a mere third of your introduction:

“So credit goes to Australian label Chapter Music for giving her a wider audience by reissuing some of her 80s albums, collecting her 90s output on the 2007 comp Finally, releasing a strong collection of new material called Terror, and organizing a tribute album featuring Devendra Banhart, Bill Callahan, the Dodos, and Mark Kozelek.”

You know, half of this wouldn’t be NEARLY as dense or tedious if you threw in a hyperlink once in a while or, God forbid, rationed your trivia. Look, back stories are cool. It’s nice to learn who artists are by virtue of what they’ve done and who’ve they’ve met. But when you lay it all out like crop tallies in a harvest almanac, it can quickly turn from interesting to “who gives a shit.”

Seriously, count up the number of nouns in that one sentence. You’ve got a record label, albums, reissues, and four different bands/artists – all in one sentence. Now I can only speak for my own prejudiced brain, but when I try to amble through a sentence brimming with that many things I’ve never heard of, I give up after a while.

Your review is heretically short by Pitchfork standards at a mere 500 words, but it’s still exponentially harder to get through. At least I can laugh at how Mark Richardson strokes himself silly in his 1200-word reviews of indie’s darlings or fume at how many hyphens Jess Harvell crams into one of her nauseating diatribes about a type of beat. Your writing is so boring it makes my nose itch. My brain actually concocts a physical distraction to break me away from your dull stanzas. That’s how bad it is.

Usually I can whip up some shtick about how someone’s metaphors sound stupid when taken literally or how dumb a string of adverbs looks when block quoted. In a bind, I can moan about how music lice shun the first person singular, or even throw mud when they rag on bands for not satisfying their narrow fetishes. But what can I even do here, Stephen? What can I even come up with in the long shadow of these clammy pickets?

“In conveying such emotional extremes, Bloom’s songwriting remains startlingly direct in its plainspoken poetry”

“Bloom sings a chorus that in other hands might be simply a bromide: “If we’re living, let’s get living.” In a sense, it’s her “Let’s Get It On”, a desperate plea to move beyond arguments and grudges and just be together.”

Truth is, I’ve got nothing this go-round, Stephen. You managed to bore me so stupid with your writing that I couldn’t even muster the energy to get my rocks off with another review. If you want to claim that as an honor, be my guest, but if you’ll excuse me, I gotta drop a Deusner.

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