Ever had an opposite critic? This is someone who, if they like it, you’ll probably dislike it. If they LOVE it, you’ll likely HATE it. I’ve had a few film critics that were like that for me. Oh sure, occassionally we’d match up on something undeniably good or bad, but it was rare.
I’m starting to think that Pitchfork, the bastion of all things good and sacred in indie music, is my opposite critic. Everytime I read one of their reviews - after I’ve put down my copy of “Obscure Metaphors Used Only By Music Critics and English Lit Majors” - I think that they missed the point. I wondered why that was until I read this exerpt from their review of the new Wilco CD, “Sky Blue Sky.”
For a band who can credit a hefty part of their charm to always thinking they’re weirder than they actually are, stripping away the disconnect between Wilco’s earthy adult-alternative center and their more recent ambitious aspirations– whether they’re exploring Krautrock, breaking into a Sonic Youth freakout, or sabotaging a song’s structure– reveals a fairly traditional band that’s emerged from their “weird” phase a markedly less interesting group than they were before they entered it. Perhaps after giving the band-member carousel another spin, Tweedy merely ended up with the wrong personnel to articulate his mood here. If that’s the case– as long as his restless habits hold– we may only need to wait one more album for message and messenger to click back into alignment.
It’s the same as their complete pan of the new Fountains of Wayne CD saying that calling it “fun” is really just making “excuses for mediocrity.”
The message: if you are remotely mainstream, you suck.
That’s fine. I’m ok with that. It just means that now I can read their reviews with the understanding that whatever they choose to hate, I’ll probably choose to love and vice versa. Anything that helps me find more totally uncool, bland, crappy music is fine by me. 