Critical Mass
One of the things that really stymies music criticism is that the vast majority of music critics, like the vast majority of most critics and indeed journalists in general, are scum.
Harsh? Possibly. Then again, if you've ever seen an episode of Jon Ronson's show Critical Condition, maybe it isn't harsh enough. The point I'm going to make is that music critics share that particularly 21st-century critical disease; the idea that every field must have its designated heroes and villains, lest the writers start thinking for themselves.
Example. This morning, before Futurama, I saw a performance by The Automatic of their new single 'Recover'. I liked it, and I liked their previous single 'Monster' too. Unfortunately, The Automatic are this year's critical whipping boys for crimes such as being a bit silly, having very naff cartoon record sleeves, Welshness, being overenthusiastic on stage, and many other nitpicks not connected to their actual music.
Listen. I'm not suggesting The Automatic are the saviours of music - they make very good use-once-then-destroy pop-metal, and that's it. But are they really so much worse then Bloc Party, the Kaiser Chiefs, Hard-Fi and all the other shit we're actually supposed to like?
Proof of the designated heroes and villains theory can be found in the number of bands and artists who've passed from one to the other. Remember The Horrors? I don't! More seriously, look at The Ordinary Boys - designated heroes for their first album of deeply tedious, lumpen lad-rock, designated villains when their more interesting follow-up album didn't connect with the public, and now heroes again not for their music (they haven't released any new material since the critical sea change) but because their lead singer Preston is half of Britain's least inspiring sleb relationship and the music press need him to be on their side so he can continue to drip-feed them exclusives.
I heard a song by The Long Blondes this morning and I really liked it - an emotion that I'm not used to having when I hear a song by a new rock band. Looking up a bit of information about them, I found a press release where they take a pot-shot at the derivative nature of modern rock; "We do not listen to The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, The Doors or Bob Dylan. We chose an instrument each and learnt to play it." Except no-one really takes their inspiration from Hendrix and Dylan any more. If they really wanted to cause a shitstorm, they'd say they didn't own a copy of Marquee Moon and think the Pixies were average.
Is it a problem that there's a 'scene'? No, not at all, if it's an organic scene like punk rock or acid house, two scenes that were worked out by the creative talent involved long before the music press bought themselves a clue. The current post-punk revival (or revival of the post-punk revival, or the New Wave of New Wave of New Wave), has basically come about because the staff of NME are a bit neurotic and want to feel like they're contributing to an important period in musical history.
I don't think that designated heroes and villains are consciously worked out, but I do think that most critics wait to see what everyone else thinks before they venture an opinion. In this reading, it's motivated more by a fear of being laughed at than some sinister plot. I do wonder about Alexis Petredis, though. He's one of the good guys most of the time, yet every now and then he writes something so stupid I have to check the byline to make sure he's not on holiday. I imagine him getting a phone call from the editor of the theguardian saying "For god's sake, Alex! You're not writing for The New Yorker or Creative Review! Pleb it up a bit!"
Petredis contributed one of my favourite designated hero reviews, where he gave five stars to the Arctic Monkeys' debut album (you know, the one where every... song... sounds... the fucking same) despite admitting it would probably sound crap in a few years time and isn't that distinctive. Of their lead singer, he says "Turner's refusal to tone down his dialect probably wouldn't have happened without the Wearside-accented Futureheads" - apparently the first band ever to sing with a regional accent. I hope Petredis never listens to the Wurzels, they'll blow his mind!
My favourite designated villain review was in The Big Issue, bemoaning the preponderance of 'nice' music. Of course, all their designated villains were female, because music writers have always found it easier to pick on women. Any idiot can see that an overview of musical blandness isn't complete without mention of penis-owning bores like Jamie Cullum, Michael Buble and anyone who's recently won a TV talent contest, but music critics are, of course, sub-idiot.
That wasn't what amused me about the article, though. What made me laugh out loud was an off-hand reference to inoffensive wine-bar music "like Norah Jones and Amy Winehouse". Cor! (Emphasis very much mine) That's like writing an article on bland 70s rock and making an offhand reference to acts "like Neil Diamond and Johnny Rotten"! I can't remember who that writer was, but here's a helpful memo; if you actually try listening to the music, rather than reading the press releases and forming a conclusion after that, you'll start writing much better articles.
Winehouse, for her part, has a new album out soon, and it sounds like she'll have a fair bit of material to draw from. She's fallen in love (I pity that man), split up with said sweetheart (wonder why) and turned to drink (turned?!). The new single is called 'Rehab', and I expect much smoothly-delivered but unmistakable bile from here.
Harsh? Possibly. Then again, if you've ever seen an episode of Jon Ronson's show Critical Condition, maybe it isn't harsh enough. The point I'm going to make is that music critics share that particularly 21st-century critical disease; the idea that every field must have its designated heroes and villains, lest the writers start thinking for themselves.
Example. This morning, before Futurama, I saw a performance by The Automatic of their new single 'Recover'. I liked it, and I liked their previous single 'Monster' too. Unfortunately, The Automatic are this year's critical whipping boys for crimes such as being a bit silly, having very naff cartoon record sleeves, Welshness, being overenthusiastic on stage, and many other nitpicks not connected to their actual music.
Listen. I'm not suggesting The Automatic are the saviours of music - they make very good use-once-then-destroy pop-metal, and that's it. But are they really so much worse then Bloc Party, the Kaiser Chiefs, Hard-Fi and all the other shit we're actually supposed to like?
Proof of the designated heroes and villains theory can be found in the number of bands and artists who've passed from one to the other. Remember The Horrors? I don't! More seriously, look at The Ordinary Boys - designated heroes for their first album of deeply tedious, lumpen lad-rock, designated villains when their more interesting follow-up album didn't connect with the public, and now heroes again not for their music (they haven't released any new material since the critical sea change) but because their lead singer Preston is half of Britain's least inspiring sleb relationship and the music press need him to be on their side so he can continue to drip-feed them exclusives.
I heard a song by The Long Blondes this morning and I really liked it - an emotion that I'm not used to having when I hear a song by a new rock band. Looking up a bit of information about them, I found a press release where they take a pot-shot at the derivative nature of modern rock; "We do not listen to The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, The Doors or Bob Dylan. We chose an instrument each and learnt to play it." Except no-one really takes their inspiration from Hendrix and Dylan any more. If they really wanted to cause a shitstorm, they'd say they didn't own a copy of Marquee Moon and think the Pixies were average.
Is it a problem that there's a 'scene'? No, not at all, if it's an organic scene like punk rock or acid house, two scenes that were worked out by the creative talent involved long before the music press bought themselves a clue. The current post-punk revival (or revival of the post-punk revival, or the New Wave of New Wave of New Wave), has basically come about because the staff of NME are a bit neurotic and want to feel like they're contributing to an important period in musical history.
I don't think that designated heroes and villains are consciously worked out, but I do think that most critics wait to see what everyone else thinks before they venture an opinion. In this reading, it's motivated more by a fear of being laughed at than some sinister plot. I do wonder about Alexis Petredis, though. He's one of the good guys most of the time, yet every now and then he writes something so stupid I have to check the byline to make sure he's not on holiday. I imagine him getting a phone call from the editor of the theguardian saying "For god's sake, Alex! You're not writing for The New Yorker or Creative Review! Pleb it up a bit!"
Petredis contributed one of my favourite designated hero reviews, where he gave five stars to the Arctic Monkeys' debut album (you know, the one where every... song... sounds... the fucking same) despite admitting it would probably sound crap in a few years time and isn't that distinctive. Of their lead singer, he says "Turner's refusal to tone down his dialect probably wouldn't have happened without the Wearside-accented Futureheads" - apparently the first band ever to sing with a regional accent. I hope Petredis never listens to the Wurzels, they'll blow his mind!
My favourite designated villain review was in The Big Issue, bemoaning the preponderance of 'nice' music. Of course, all their designated villains were female, because music writers have always found it easier to pick on women. Any idiot can see that an overview of musical blandness isn't complete without mention of penis-owning bores like Jamie Cullum, Michael Buble and anyone who's recently won a TV talent contest, but music critics are, of course, sub-idiot.
That wasn't what amused me about the article, though. What made me laugh out loud was an off-hand reference to inoffensive wine-bar music "like Norah Jones and Amy Winehouse". Cor! (Emphasis very much mine) That's like writing an article on bland 70s rock and making an offhand reference to acts "like Neil Diamond and Johnny Rotten"! I can't remember who that writer was, but here's a helpful memo; if you actually try listening to the music, rather than reading the press releases and forming a conclusion after that, you'll start writing much better articles.
Winehouse, for her part, has a new album out soon, and it sounds like she'll have a fair bit of material to draw from. She's fallen in love (I pity that man), split up with said sweetheart (wonder why) and turned to drink (turned?!). The new single is called 'Rehab', and I expect much smoothly-delivered but unmistakable bile from here.