Album: Thug Motivation 103: Hustlerz Ambition

Reviewer: Jayson Greene

Pitchfork, 2012

Writing Disorders: Jargon Palsy, Ambiguity Sickness

Hi Jayson. I’m going to start with something you all seem to like:  a long analogy.

I’m reading Game of Thrones, on page 134. And in Game of Thrones, there’s pretty much the Dothraki and the white folks. And before every nerd drops his nob to get it through my idiot head that Dothraki are ACTUALLY based on Abyssinian warriors or something…just give me a minute here.

Anyway, Jay, reading your review of this black man’s album got me thinking about the Dothraki and what it’d be like if some bookish little Lannister got a grant to study the way they do things out in the open like that. Maybe he’d write how their body of song “somehow seems both airless and over-inflated” too.

And for anyone itching to mash whatever racism button’s closest…relax. I’m just saying that a man writing things like “satisfyingly huge- and evil-sounding” about a guy’s rap album is making me laugh.

Now Jayson, it’s cool to find fault with any or every rap album. And hell, feel free to write about it — that’s why the keys are there. But really man, roll your shoulders a bit…get those kinks out — relax — ain’t a black guy gonna jump through the window and knife you in the kidney if you write in plain English that his brother can’t rap past a 6.8.

So for the love of Christ, please never write “satisfyingly” or “shockingly” or “baldly” again. The first two shouldn’t even be adverbs and the other one looks like BADLY — like Jayson Greene writes BADLY.

I could crack your writing in half it’s so stiff. READ THIS. Really. Read it.

“The hoary details of the song’s poverty lament”

“appearance by of-the-moment ATL star Future aside”

“You can hear the lack of organic excitement”

Enlighten me, Jayson. What organically excites a man like yourself? I’m reading that, wondering if there’s more or if I’m supposed to guess. Well, I’m going to guess.

“You can hear the lack of organic excitement you’d get from juicing a grapefruit”

Silly? Well at least then you’re giving me a vantage point instead of just moistening the sideline of black culture with ambiguous jargon so you don’t upset anyone. Maybe if you took half a second to remember it’s possible to write without sounding like NPR’s anus, you wouldn’t swing with goofy-ass nonsense like this:

“Nothing much is visibly wrong with Thug Motivation 103“

Ah, right, because you usually hear music instead of see it. Or since there’s nothing visibly wrong (to the ears), you had no choice but to push deeper into dog whistle frequencies. Oh, sorry, am I being too literal? Okay, let’s go back to you being a ginger snap

“a verse…that induces misplaced nostalgia shivers for classic Lauryn Hill”

Jeez Jay, I was beginning to think all this crummy writing was really just a Batman alter ego to your everyday Bruce Wayne sense of clarity. Now I’m not so sure. So you’re telling me if you got a chance to tell this fellow what you thought of his music, you’d say it makes you think of Lauryn Hill — and shiver — but not in the right place? That’s hella…oh, what’s the word…weird.

What I’m really getting at here, Jayson, is that you’re making the road to breezier race relations a nudge harder by writing about rap like it’s a very interesting type of slime mold. If stuff written about black music by white men is going to be this graham cracker stiff, then maybe we should just go back to listening to the stuff because we like doing it and telling our friends what we think.

…not probing “dubious sociopolitical implications” or describing a “head-spinning cross-breed of trap-rap and cloud rap.”  Speaking of that, why does trap-rap get a hyphen and cloud rap doesn’t? And speaking of THAT, wtf is cloud rap? Again, is there more to that or am I supposed to guess? You might enlighten your readers, because I’m pretty sure, like, 14 people on the Internet are aware of that particular subgenre.

Jay, it’s been a year and a half since I last featured you here, and this is your third appearance. I’m not asking you to dumb it down.  Just for the love of God, loosen up a bit. It’s easy. Just let it flow…like rap.

Album: As Good as Gone

Reviewer: Jared Bier

Tiny Mix Tapes, 2010

Writing Disorders: Jargon Palsy, Ambiguity Sickness








Irony: “for the sake of convenience”

Rise of the Machines: “the album — a distinctively aggregate entity”




Jared, back when I was a music louse, I used to write reviews like yours here — maybe not as hard to read, but just as vague and pointless. Judging from the vapid copy, I’m guessing you weren’t too thrilled about reviewing this Nudge album. Maybe you plucked it off a thin list surrounded by screamo albums. Maybe your editor cleared the backlog onto you. Maybe you burned the week procrastinating. I don’t know. If it’s any consolation, I reckon most critics would have forced the same four paragraphs of airy jargon too. It’s easier than admitting you have nothing to say.

This whole review could have been about three sentences long, but you padded it fluffy enough to nap.  I nearly did after reading stuff like this:

“With some genealogical backtracking, one could probably put together a rather convincing argument suggesting common antecedents and, thus, the common qualities shared by these aforementioned genres, but the album skitters about too often to reveal the connections.”

Jared, I’m gonna let the lard speak for itself because that ridiculous sentence got me thinking of something else. Sometimes I wonder what critics would sound like if they actually sat down with a band to criticize them mouth to ear. I reckon you’d probably just clutch your knees and mumble praise, but based on your writing, anything’s possible:

Jared: Hi guys, this was a solid 50% effort, but next time you might want to skitter less. I think it would help weirdos like me better ascertain connections between common antecedents after a good genealogical backtracking.

I really hope Matt LeMay is the only outcast in a world where critics confine their jargon to the internet. If you really blow stuff like that past your lips in conversation, I’d recommend drugs.

It probably wouldn’t hurt. You’re not the clearest cat in the alley, Jared, and it’s your own fault. Whatever miniscule points you make get buried under all the clutter heaped on top. Read this:

“Nudge’s isn’t by any means a brand that thwarts all stylistic categorization”

Now read this alternative:

“Nudge’s style doesn’t thwart categorization.”

Ahhhh…Allegra.  Want another example? Good, because I’m giving it:

“And for every such triumph, Nudge roll around to throw a monkey wrench into the whole business of tidying up”

Jared, I’m assuming the most important part of that sentence is the monkey wrench throw.  So why did you need to say Nudge rolled around to throw it?  Is it imperative to specify they didn’t sneak up, bellyflop in, or shuffle over? When you’re writing about a band with a common verb for a name, it’s maybe not a good idea to follow it with two verbs.

It’s disappointing to see you on RipFork again for mostly the same reasons — jargon, tedium, ambiguity.  Your reviews make listening to music sound like scrubbing limescale, but for what? What’s the payoff? After clogging a short review with all that piffle, you concluded As Good As Gone “lacks…unity.”  Whoa, call the fire department to douse those flames. Insight alert.

Let’s wrap things up, Jared. I’d like to spit out your cotton ball so I can go earn money. I think one of your criticisms aimed at the band can help illustrate a cure for your own bad writing:

“would have benefited from a few more pieces serving to fill in the gaps.”

Considering the gaps in this review, you might want to look in the mirror, kid.

Album: Nightmare

Reviewer: Jeff Weiss

Los Angeles Times, 2010

Writing Disorders: Ambiguity Sickness, Detachment Syndrome, Scorn Disease








Stuffiest Phrase: “your inclination to the aesthetic”

Sexy: “almost pornographic”




Jeff, ripping this dumb review is a moot point considering the 186 comments it’s already received, but I couldn’t resist. Few critics go anywhere near metal, and I personally think it runs deeper than distaste. After all, metalheads are passionate fans, and they’re not afraid to call bullshit on haters, especially when haters spec before they check.

About the only good thing I noticed was the brevity, so there’s plenty to probe here, Jeff. But before we get you lubed up, I want to start with a visual. I think it’ll help ease the entry. These are the five albums you reviewed over the last month and a half:





Three out of five are hip hop releases. That tells me you like hip hop. Not metal. Scanning through your blog posts I’m not seeing many tattooed men with Schecter guitars either. Feel free to upload your Lamb of God remixes, but based on what’s in front of me, I’m gonna say you’re not really into the whole metal thing.

And that brings me to my most pressing question: why did you review this album?

“Whether you appreciate the veteran hard rock/metal hybrid depends on your tolerance for spiraling guitars, avalanche drums and satanic screams.”

Jeff, it’s not like the album’s style is out of left field. It’s clear you’re not much for the basic blueprint, so why’d you review something built on it? To warn metal haters to avoid an album called “Nightmare” with a winged reaper hovering over a terrified child? Something tells me your average Drake fan isn’t gonna go buy that on a whim. If you were ASSIGNED this album, that doesn’t help your case much either. Hammering something you had no chance of liking for a major newspaper is a disservice to music even if it’s music you’d rather do without.

If the style doesn’t melt your butter, that’s cool. But don’t diss the audience like it’s a herd of pubescent sheep that don’t know no better. Ahem:

“With imagery haunted by death and lyrical allusions to alienation and angst, Avenged Sevenfold’s fifth full-length is almost impossible to appreciate unless you fit the prime demographic: tormented teenage boys.”

Dude, unless you’re a mix of every man and woman on earth under 13 or over 19, I don’t think you can make that kind of assertion. How do you know elderly transgendered folks or college-bound girls wouldn’t bang their heads to this stuff? In lieu of a new census poll, you might try sticking with your own dismal assessment without projecting it onto others.

The Linkin Park reference alone speaks volumes about your metal know-how, but you make a full run of dubious points in this review. Here’s one from your opening paragraph:

“The major labels may continue to wither, but they won’t go out without a bang. After all, there’s no other way to explain the recent promotional tie-in between the new Avenged Sevenfold track “Welcome to the Family,” and its ideological brethren, the ultra-violent video game, “Call of Duty: Black Ops.”

Jeff, you JUST explained it another way. Seems like “ideological brethren” would be paired in a promotion because of marketing 101, not a last ditch industry effort to go out with a bang. Besides, I don’t think I’m alone saying that when I gear up for simulated war, I ain’t listening to Belle and Sebastian.

There’s plenty not to like about your review, Jeff, but there was one bit that really bit my bird:

“The sincerity is palpable even if the style seems synthetic, particularly on “So Far Away,” which presumably addresses the untimely death last year of their drummer, James “The Rev” Sullivan.”

First off — seems like you should get a firmer handle on whether something’s a tribute to a dead man before you start slagging the style. You’re essentially saying the band could have done a better job honoring their fallen comrade, IF indeed that’s what they’re doing. Wow. Do you also do funerals, Jeff? Music criticism sure is something.

Try reading those comments. You might learn something.

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: Broken Bells

Reviewer: Sam Donsky

Cokemachineglow, 2010

Writing Disorders: Idea Fever, Jargon Palsy, Ambiguity Sickness








Stuffiest Phrase: “a perfectly bland distillation of the formula that I had long since recognized but never quite grasped”

Irony: “the sort of thing you almost wish would just hurry up and be shitty”




As you may have noticed, I read a lot of awful music reviews from many different sources. Some produce greater heaps of junk than others though, and Cokemachineglow occupies its own space altogether. I’m still unsure whether the whole site’s a gag or dead serious.  From what I’ve tolerated long enough to read, it seems like a place where writers burn time before becoming serial killers. I wouldn’t be surprised if Brent DiCrescenzo himself taught many of the writers how to wank.

Sam, I think you went with the wrong title on your thousand-word turd here. “Record Review: Broken Bells” doesn’t accurately portray most of the content of your article. First off, you didn’t even mention the band’s name over the course of 8 bloated paragraphs, and it took you nearly 400 words to drop the album title. What was so important that pushed those useful details to the back burner? Well, let’s take a look:

“Infinity will have to eat itself and then regenerate with a third arm and then lift weights with those three arms continuously until the sun collapses before there can exist a quantity commensurate with how much I used to love iTunes Celebrity Playlist”

“I used to fucking love iTunes Celebrity Playlist”

“if you had asked me six months ago to name the definitive commonality on the iTunes celeb circuit, I would have said it’s a tie”

Sam, if it takes you three paragraphs to tenuously connect one thing to another, you might want to go back to the drawing board. I honestly had no clue where you were going with that “introduction” until I reread the third paragraph and finally noticed an angle. So really the whole point of that stupid parade of half sentences was to eventually name two songs by The Shins and Gnarls Barkley? Maybe you could have reached that staggering insight in one sentence instead of 23. Your intro was like an hour-long Ovaltine joke.

My eyes rolled so far back in my head I could see my brain, but I think I’m okay to continue into the body of the review. I’m ready to be dazzled, Sam. Hit me with your best shot. Fire away.

“Almost everything sags into the same, slow-grooved alterna-template, a least common denominator of half-hooks and atmosphere and faux-space-age slickness”

America’s universities really need to start giving out failing grades in English courses if only to prevent that kind of nonsense from escaping. Let’s move past your infectious punctuation for a moment so you can answer me one thing, Sam. What exactly is LEGIT “space-age slickness?”

Do you have a machine programmed to pull things out of your ass or do you still manage the old fashioned way? If there’s any template at work here, I’d say it’s you writing like every other music critic with little regard for an audience. Speaking of ass pulling…

“the triumph of essence over absence”

“new dope presented in the clothes of an old reputation”

“most certainly rep-able, it’s not ambiguous in the least”

Wow, does that vague BS come with fries? Even when you’re merciful enough to offer an explanation of these empty phrases, I still have no clue what you’re talking about. In the future, you might consider asking someone to edit down your work so it’s A) readable, B) interesting, and C) inconclusive proof of mental illness. Maybe you could ask these guys:





Sam, I did notice that you’re the recipient of a poetry prize, so maybe prose just isn’t your strong suit. After trudging through to the end of this abomination, I’m left with a burning question. Who actually reads this stuff besides me?