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Posts Tagged Scorn Disease

William Grant’s Review of “The Illusion of Safety” by The Hoosiers

Aug 24

Posted by Matt Wendus in Drowned in Sound | 6 Comments

Artist: The Hoosiers

Album: The Illusion of Safety

Reviewer: William Grant

Drowned in Sound, 2010

Writing Disorders: Scorn Disease, Jargon Palsy








Stuffiest Phrase: “an ironic stab at the vacuous nature of that which it fit into”

Spoon uppa Ass: “I by no means profess to be any sort of modern pop obsessive”




William Grant, if you’re a girl, I apologize. Jess Harvell ruined my boner when she ended up being a dude, so I’m taking names with a grain of salt these days. I can take a better stab at what’s in your pants with a picture, but more on that later. Don’t soil your ovaries if I got your gender wrong, he-man. Now let’s focus on your review.

I didn’t like it. Almost as much as you didn’t like this Hoosiers album. I’d still have beef with you giving bands the rusty trombone even if you weren’t a bad writer.  But you are a bad writer, Will, so let’s run with that:

So, with that in mind, what can be said about The Illusion Of Safety is that if you have any inclination towards the beautifully intricate synthesized pop of the Eighties, and hence a lot of modern accessible Shiny Songs, then the opening double gambit will, remarkably, make you quite happy.

So…after all that cotton, you’re saying folks who like ‘80s synth pop will like two songs on this album? I’m guessing none of your teachers ever graded for editing. Try rereading your stuff every once in a while without a hand down your waistband and you might catch the declutter bug.

You write like most other music lice in their twenties, but a couple times you broke free of the pack. That’s no compliment. Nothing blue balls my brain worse than the word “esque,” and you really took it to a whole new level of pussy footing:

Lead single ‘Choices’ has an almost Hot Chip-esque synth line

Ugh. Dude, consider what you wrote there.  Almost-esque.  You’re saying this lead single was hardly almost like something.  That’s like saying Claire Danes’ peaches are almost Heather Graham-esque.  I mean, they ARE breasts, but not quite. Consider something in the future, kid. If you’re gonna compare, try standing on a leg stronger than a used tampon.

I don’t reckon your listening rivaled the time spent making the album, but you rained down static all the same. After mentioning the first two songs, you had this to say:

Unfortunately, despite their gallant strides, the rest of the album is a chore.

So let me get this straight, Will. You’ll burn time dissecting a synth line down two levels, but 5/6 of an album of music is just a chore? Like emptying the trash or cleaning the fish tank? Thank god you explained all the lazy with a whole new paragraph. It was even 11 words longer than your opening anecdote about serving cider to men! Phew. For a minute I thought you were being lazy.

Well shit. Let’s back up the smack with some staggering William Grant prose:

as well as a a serious not to the idea of the ‘hook’.

Hold on a second while I pen a quick note. Dear Drowned in Sound editors – when one of your minions writes himself into a seizure, it’s your job to clean up the mess. Two typos in the span of three words? Put that on a resume.

Okay. Sorry about that, Will. For the love of Christ, edit your own shit, dude.

I’d wrap this up so you can go find another hobby, but I’m not going to let you off so easy. I promised more about that picture of you after all. I peed myself giddy at this new evidence suggesting Drowned in Sound writers shop at the same creepy milkman store:





Will, take a knee. Do you understand what you look like in those things?  You look like a sex offender.  I’m sure you’re just expressing yourself or something, but I don’t reckon rapist glasses are pushing you almost-esque toward a straight girl or gay man’s favor.* Men need to bang, and those things aren’t helping.

Baby steps though. Keep niggling musicians for not pleasing your ear. Can’t be making drastic change right out of the gate. I’ll be checking in.




* Or whatever combos they have these days under the T and Q.

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Jess Harvell’s Review of “Isis/Melvins” Split by Isis and The Melvins

Aug 17

Posted by Matt Wendus in Pitchfork | 21 Comments

Artist: Isis/Melvins

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.

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Jeff Weiss’ Review of “Nightmare” by Avenged Sevenfold

Aug 2

Posted by Matt Wendus in Los Angeles Times | 7 Comments

Artist: Avenged Sevenfold

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.

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Jayson Greene’s Review of “Recovery” by Eminem

Jun 21

Posted by Matt Wendus in Pitchfork | 9 Comments

Artist: Eminem

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!

QuestionsView Results





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.

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Calum Marsh’s review of “Forgiveness Rock Record” by Broken Social Scene

May 18

Posted by Matt Wendus in Cokemachineglow | 1 Comment

Artist: Broken Social Scene

Album: Forgiveness Rock Record

Reviewer: Calum Marsh

Cokemachineglow, 2010

Writing Disorders: Scorn Disease, Idea Fever








Most Emo Phrase: “a sense of gravity that it doesn’t really carry on its own”

Irony: “insisted on inflation and indulgence so stubbornly”




Calum, I like your name. I can address you as an Amish man, rash ointment, or sexual plague without even saying so. Versatile.

Let me use a phrase so many of you do. To be fair, I was two snaps away from thumbing someone else’s 1,700 word review. She had a university spoon so far up her bottom, she actually footnoted her opinion of a Hole album. Even if you didn’t win that brown ribbon in bare knuckle fluffing, Calum, you still grabbed an honorable mention in the smug tug. Down this nine mile review, you laid down points an editor could have fit in fortune cookies.

Smear an art pucker tight as yours over too much space and it starts stinking quick. Take a whiff, Calum. You dealt it, so it’s only fair you smell it. These are your first words:

“That’s a contentious little rating perched up above this text…”

So right out of the gate — first move — you shout about treating music like we measure consumer confidence or oil life in modern cars. Percentages. I’m intrigued. Tell me more.

“(it’s)…the lowest this record has received from a professional criticism outlet by Metacritic’s count, and so let’s just acknowledge upfront that the position I’m defending in this review is an unpopular one.”

Dude, what is this? You tooting your own horn? That a horn I hear? What kind of man demands acknowledgment with his first sentence? Calum the Magnificent? I ain’t acknowledging figs, you fop.

And clear me on something here, son. We talking the same Cokemachineglow that serves 5 page reviews in point-11 font…on one goddamn page? What kind of meal is that? A hard to read meal is what it sounds like. This the same “professional” site that couldn’t get one of six editors to blot your pee stain down to maybe a thousand words? I don’t know what’s worse, Calum: refusing to whittle something that long, or actually editing down TO that length.

What was so brilliant you couldn’t spare one 95-word sentence in the explanation? You spent a third of the review braying like a mad ass about people only liking this album because it’s by Broken Social Scene. Same could be said about any album by any band if you’re cynical enough to see it. Thank God it only took around 900 words for you to finally OD on U2 demerits and your love for Ryan Dombal. Then I was lucky enough to spy a couple mentions of the album under “Record Review” in your heading:

“Forgiveness Rock Record doesn’t provide anything interesting to talk about in and of itself”

Right, and your first six paragraphs were diamonds in the dung. I’m sure right now Pulitzer’s applauding your decision to smother the only two songs mentioned under half a paragraph devoted to defining “pop.” You name more songs from previous BSS albums than the one you’re supposed to be reviewing. If that’s not putting corn in the hole, I don’t know what is. And as if rewriting the Magna Carta about an album wasn’t bad enough, you berate a battalion-sized Canadian indie band for not being minimal enough:

“musicians who continue to prove themselves unable to let a good idea breathe”

Now while you’re munching leafy greens to boost the irony in your blood, I’ll say this, Calum. Regrettably, I couldn’t locate your submission to “Canada’s Sex-Enthusiasts’ Journal” so alas I couldn’t learn the right way to let a good idea breathe. If breathing means writing something longer than George Clooney’s eulogy, I’m glad the whole world isn’t hooked on hyperventilating. Next time you’re itching to spread Calum, just skip to the infection.

I’m late for work.

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