Thursday, December 29, 2005

Bestiary

I hate music reviews. I love music reviews. I hate them when they miss the point, drown in their own verbosity and are more about the reviewer than the artist. I also hate it when they burst my bubble. I love music reviews that make me think, challenge my expectations and lead me to other artists and genres. I've heard people disparage websites like www.pitchforkmedia.com, citing the oh-so-hip writing, the archness, the insularity. Sure there's a fair bit of it, but as a reference point for the acceptable face of indie/alternative/underground music it's not bad. As someone approaching 50 (the new 40 by the way) I appreciate reviewers who love the music they write about, who have extensive knowledge and insight of 20th century artists and throw in a laugh now and again. Every musical era has it's keepers. People who actually transcend the scenes they may or may not have been a part of. 15 years from now when the Arcade Fire and Wolf Parade do a reunion tour, there we'll be, snatching back pieces of our youth, and loving the sound again for what it is. Heaven.

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