Pitching a Fit Over Pitchfork

With the amount of access people have to inexpensive home recording equipment and the ease of posting something on myspace the amount of DIY underground music in all genre's has reached levels that would make Ian McKaye's head spin. There certainly is A LOT of material to sift through and for a music lover it becomes overwhelming to keep up with all the bedroom/dreamhaze/lo-fi/video-game-dance/drank-hop/post-rock possibilities. For years I have been relying on the site Pitchfork.com for a little help with this sifting. In the beginning of their online presence, Pitchfork was known as sort of the indie kids Rolling Stone, a step up from the local punk zine, a step to the side of Magnet and a step into "the future" of online music news. As the years marched on there has been a growing swell of backlash against the site which I generally attributed to whiney, hipster hating, downer types who could find a flaw in a warm summer day. Everything has some imperfections but give me a break Pitchfork does fill a void and you can take it or leave it. I felt a sort of loyalty to Pitchfork, the same type of loyalty I feel when a friends band starts getting some publicity and the naysayers begin their naysaying.

But now Pitchfork, the war is ON.

A review of the album Feels Good Together by newcomers Drummer received a 7.5 on the Pitchfork review scale of 1-10. I am not really sure what the criteria are for these numbers but generally speaking a review in the high 7's is quite good. Anything over an 8 and the record makes it to the "Best New Music" list, which this year (just to add fuel to my personal vendetta) is compromised of thirty nine albums thus far only six of which feature female fronted bands and I AM including the gender mystic Antony in that count. I digress, the point being the record by Drummer is horrible. I am not talking "I just don't get it" bad, I am talking "I get it, this is shit" bad.



I was interested in this album for a few reasons, foremost being it is comprised of all drummers from other bands, the most well known drummer being Patrick Carney of Black Keys. When I first caught wind of this group I thought it was an interesting concept and assumed that it would be some kind of experiment in rhythm and percussion. I was wrong. The album starts out promising with Lottery Dust, a solid, churning rock and roll song. From there the songs digress into an unfortunate clamor of trite full-mouthed lyrics and musical wanderings that meander into the land of Creedance-ish southern rock (Connect to Lounge) and lots of loud-soft-loud-solo structures. The record feels indulgent in almost every aspect from the "concept" to the indie-rock-star (sort of) line up, to the guitar soloing, to the more then a mouthful lyrics. Okay, fine I just don't like it. We are all entitled to differing opinions and this is not the first time Pitchfork and I have agreed to disagree.

Still, while listening to this album an overwhelming flood of all the little irritants and nagging issues I have had with Pitchfork in the past began to amplify with each forced "I smoke a lot and drink late" breath that singer Jon Finley wheezed. Why a 7.5?! Why is the reviewer heralding this clearly redundant BS and not reviewing some other band that I have never heard of, some surprise band?! Why did Micachu and the Shapes, by far one of the most interesting and fun records of the year not make it to the "Best New Music" list (they got a 7.9, the injustice!)? Why do I need to hear every single thing laid to tape by Bradford Cox? Why does Pitchfork coin terms such as "chillwave" and "glo-fi" without an after thought? Why are they primarily interested in bands who play music that makes me feel sleepy and/or suggests the full experience would be had by gulping down a mental patients medicine cabinet? Why did Sleater-Kinney have to break up? Where is Kathleen Hanna?



Kathleen Hanna: Last seen with former band Le Tigre.

Okay, fine, those last two questions have nothing to do with Pitchfork. Although they could tell me where Kathleen Hanna is if they REALLY CARED.

Even the government agrees that monopolies are not good business. How is there no competing indie/underground music reviewing site yet? Can someone else please start a super cool, interesting music blog? Someone who is not famous already? Someone besides Carrie Brownstein? Then I will be able to officially break up with Pitchfork yet remain on friendly terms. The sooner the better cause my contempt is building.


Micachu and the Shapes. At least an 8.5 in my opinion.

-KM

Giant Shoe Mystery

A few weekends ago, we were executing an apartment re-org, during which KM was clearing off the uppermost shelf of the coat closet. Like a grandfather pulling a quarter from behind a kid's ear, she pulled a giant-size athletic shoe from the depths of the top shelf and proudly announced she had found "something special." Since we haven't seen a giant race of humans roaming around our building, we were mystified as to who the owner of this footwear could be.

Stereo is scared by the magic shoe

Perhaps a previous tenet got the shoe as a gag gift? Maybe his friends called him "bigfoot" because he had abnormally big feet, or he was so small and tiny the joke was that he would fit into a giant shoe.

Have you had a "shoe moment" lately?

Days went by, the shoe revealed no answers, and we left it sitting on the floor for the cats to sleep on and went about our lives. As the shoe continued to do nothing, I began thinking about our "surprise shoe" and looking for the "perfect fit." Is it a coincidence we found such a comical version of footwear hidden beneath the dust bunnies and plywood shelves of our closet while our government officials search for a health care reform bill that will fit the beat-up, gangrenous "feet" that is the state of our nation's health? Could its garish colors and outdated Reebok logo suggest that KM and I review our past fashion choices with a more discerning eye? Probably not, but I DID begin to wonder whether the shoe is something meant for US, a sign that we should forget our squabbling over finances and travel plans and whose hair clogs up the shower drain or who dances with footloose-style enthusiasm to avoid helping the other person cook dinner, and think more about the "foot" that we're all idealizing, the "size" that will be "perfect" for our collective closet shoe. Maybe the giant orange shoe we found in our closet will never be matched with a foot as large and warm as that of its original owner. And maybe that's okay. Like our unexpected suprise, we can all learn to enjoy the "shoes" life puts in our "closets" this holiday season.

-KE

Guilt and Reality TV

I once wrote a two page review of the movie Stealth, starring Jessica Biel and Jamie Foxx, for a humor website. The "review" basically consisted of me pointing out how ridiculous and unbelievable the plot, editing, and concept of the movie were, to the point that it was one of the most enjoyable movie-watching experiences I've ever had. I truly couldn't believe the movie had been made. From the opening sequence where Jessica Biel is introduced as one of the top three "ace" pilots in the U.S. to the HAL-like fighter jet that turns out to contain a mean streak malfunction, the movie was BAD in the most painful, excruciating sense.

For me, this type of BAD means movies and TV shows that cause me to lightly punch whoever is watching/listening with me, and embark on long monologues about quality, plot holes, cheese, idiocy, and brain damage within the human race. At some point I become depressed and ashamed, and I turn away from the entertainment in question, like a toddler that has accidentally shit on the floor and is both fascinated and repulsed by his-or-her own mess.

Everyone knows just how awful reality TV can be, yet everyone (who is not a complete pompous ass) will also admit that there is a seductive allure to these shows, be they bachelor-esque dating dramas, self-improvement (makeover, weight loss, home renovation shows), or pure competitions a la survivor and its ilk. It's actually kind of funny to think back on the original granddaddy of reality TV - MTV's Real World - and realize that there was no catch or prize or bonus round of selection.

But back to my original intention - addressing the guilt and slight self-hatred that often accompanies watching the worst of these shows, most of which glut the schedule of VH1 these days.

I will say that I enjoy some reality-classified shows practically guilt-free. Project Runway, Top Chef, What Not to Wear, and even The Biggest Loser are the fruit and yogurt of reality TV shows (as compared to the fried oreo on a stick of something like Rock of Love). In the "healthy" shows, no one is (usually) made to look stupid on purpose, contestants' public image generally is improved, and some people I think genuinely do change their habits or lives for the better.

I will also say that there are some dogs that eat their own shit without hesitation - a comparison that may ring a bit too true for some of us.

I guess my point is, I think watching trashy reality TV should be treated like junk food - okay once in awhile, as long as your brain is being stimulated by a variety of other forms of intelligent entertainment, and keep it away from children as long as you can lest they grow up thinking all women look like strippers, all men are complete dicks, and everyone has a vocabulary of three words: "bitch," "slut" and "daaaag".

-KE