Thursday, May 16, 2002 -- 10:25 p.m.

I suppose this is "talk about music reviews instead of actual music" week for me. Anyhow: here is a list of some really, really wrongheaded reviews that finally made me decide to remove the link to Pitchfork from my sidebar. Be aware that this may be more cathartic than interesting, but you might want to check this out in a "learn how not to write" sorta way.:
1) Basement Jaxx, Rooty: This guy thinks "Romeo" has stupid lyrics and sounds like a really bad Janet Jackson song. This guy has no business even being within ten feet of a house record. Sure, I sorta thought that way about Basement Jaxx until I actually, you know, heard the album.
2) The Beach Boys, Pet Sounds: "I AM SO RAD BECAUSE EVERYONE LOVES THIS ALBUM BUT ME!" Listen, I make it a point to mention at least intermittently that I do not get such critical darlings as, say, Fugazi. But I suppose my justification ("I am not a big fan of the vocals") is a lot better than Ryan's ("There's a Radiohead album recorded thirty years later that sounds more innovative").
3) Ben Folds Five, The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner: Steve Albini isn't really your friend, Brent. He's just using you for your money.
4) Blackalicious, Nia: For a positive review, this is seriously condescending garbage. "Hip-hop even a grandma can like!" Even though the reviewer supposedly liked it, too? Baby baby baby make up yo' mind.
5) LTJ Bukem, Journey Inwards: "Each of these 14 tracks are laid down to satisfy the requirements of your local hip martini and sushi bar. This album's mellow Rhodes piano and ride cymbal flourishes will complement your local's frosted windows and utterly sophisticated white walls." SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP
6) The Cars, s/t (reissue): "Dude, people who like the Cars are pathetic nerds!" That's nice. Go away.
7) Cat Power, The Covers Record: A positive write-up, included for Matos' amusement/derision.
8) Chemical Brothers, Come With Us: Bernard Sumner should stay away from the Chemicals' studio? So we won't get "Out of Control", one of their best singles ever? Oh, and God forbid they do anything that's not loud and fast and bombastic. Between this review and the CultureDose review I'm starting to wonder if online music 'zines parcelled out all their Come With Us reviews to total dimwits.
9) The Clash, From Here To Eternity: Live: "What it really boils down to is: does your stereo have a remote control? If it does, a) fuck you, you're a douchebag, b) you shouldn't be listening to the Clash, c) you probably don't need to buy this album." That's it. DUMMY SMACKS ALL AROUND.
10) Daft Punk, Discovery: Again with the bitching about the lyrics on a house record. "Aw, hell, the '65 Corvette Stingray doesn't have electric ass-warmers in the seats!"
11) Fatboy Slim, Halfway Between The Gutter And The Stars: Wow, a review of a dance album that weighs heavy on the drug metaphors! I am shocked and amazed!
12) Handsome Boy Modeling School, So... How's Your Girl?: "Now, maybe it's me, but it seems like if anyone in "underground" hip-hop gave a shit, this might sound half as good as anything Cash Money's releasing. Look at B.G., Lil' Wayne, Hot Boys and Juvenile." DUMMY SMACKS AGAIN!
13) Hellacopters, Payin' the Dues: To answer Brent's questions, in order: A while; pretty long; I should assume for at least a few years more; I take it you've heard of the Hives; whenever, y'know?; longer than singers who sing like Thom Yorke, probably; about the same amount of time as professional wrestling is going to be around; OH GOD NOT SILLY PUN BAND NAMES, NO!; long enough to put out more Radio Birdman reissues, I can only hope; harmonicas are God's work and don't you ever say otherwise; there are certain merits to songs about kickin' ass; "Boba Fett? Boba Fett? Where?"; "Andrew Shit" is actually Andrew W.K.'s real name; as go CBGBs, so goes C-G-D-G; yes and they're great; until the last Ford Mustang rolls off the assembly line; when hot-rodding dies; I thought they had members named "Boba Fett" and "Andrew Shit"- how can they be ganking the Ramones schtick if their last names aren't all the same?; yes they are and I love my copy of "100% Apeshit Rock"; tambourines will exist as long as there's a singer that needs something to do; as long as men have dongs; ditto; uh, yeah; there's enough of those to pose an annoyance?; as long as people still give a damn about Robert Johnson; "JESUS BUILT MY HOTROD" RULES; as long as people want and need things; Roni Size's In The Mode and that was only 2/3 good.
14) Herbaliser, Very Mercenary: Ignoring the Jay-Z cheerleading and the fact that "Wall Crawling Giant Insect Breaks" was deliberately constructed as an homage to the Invisbl Skratch Piklz; how in the hell does "Moon Sequence" sound like the "Miami Vice" theme? IT DOESN'T. And why is Blow Your Headphones "pretty decent but kinda crappy" in this Schreiber review, while it "rocked the world with bulletproof basslines and pervasive grooves" in this one?
15) Lifter Puller, Fiestas and Fiascos: 3.2? 3.2? 3.2?!?!?!
16) Roots Manuva, Run Come Save Me: No further comment.
17) Sonic Youth, NYC Ghosts and Flowers: Possibly the single most insane piece of rock criticism ever written. This is coming from someone who hasn't even heard the album yet. I can only imagine what will happen in the event I buy it and wind up enamored with it somehow. God save us all when that goes down. Chicago will wind up a smoldering crater.
18) Supergrass, s/t: Yes, the 9.0 is deserved. The stupid, stupid, STUPID gimmick review is NOT. George Washington dancing to Scottish retro-power-pop is an atrocious mental picture that I really, really wish I could purge from my mind. But I can't.
19) Yo La Tengo, And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out: "OH MY GOD! I just realized that YUPPIES might like this album! This very important and certainly relevant topic MUST be addressed NOW and in GREAT DETAIL before I can get to anything else!"
20) Rob Zombie, Hellbilly Deluxe: The saddest of all possible review gimmicks: The Imaginary Relative.

I have spent far too long on this article so I will shut up and go to bed now.

-Nate

Thursday, May 16, 2002 -- 04:52 p.m.

j.b.r. sent me an e-mail about the fact that CultureDose has certain flaws (not her words). I don't visit that site regularly (outside of some of her old columns and that hip-hop album list) so I decided to peek around.
Erk.
Problem #1: This Strokes review, which I swear to God I read just today and not before I wrote my Hipster Detritus Super Rock Critic Quiz. The added Clash comparison is slightly less ludicrous but still a bit questionable (except for the fact that both Joe Strummer and Julian Casablancas both went to boarding school- not together tho).
Problem #2: This Chemical Brothers review, which commits the tandem sins of being both hamfistedly negative (way to use the word "generic" about six hundred times) and sounding like a high school term paper (The last paragraph starts with the words "In conclusion". BLAGH). I will not even begin to delve into why this review makes me laugh derisively over and over and over again.
Problem #3: This Marvin Gaye review. "Bloated arrangements"? "Preachy lyricism"? ARGH

-Nate

Thursday, May 16, 2002 -- 11:42 a.m.

Controversy time! CultureDose.com picks their greatest hip-hop albums of all time and Straight Outta Compton ranks far below Brand Nubian's One For All, which is surprising (though not maddening, at least not in my case). I'd say most of the list makes sense, especially the top 5, and in an interesting turn the #1 album is not by Public Enemy, Notorious B.I.G. or N.W.A. (though it does make sense).

-Nate

Wednesday, May 15, 2002 -- 08:15 p.m.

The St. Paul Rokkblog Summit betwixt me and Matos and Josh went off a hundred times better than expected. We hung around and talked about music for three hours and then me and Mike (which I suppose I can call him, since he introduced himself that way) went up to Cheapo to laugh at a few local artists' CDs and also to buy Lifter Puller's fanbloodytastic Half-Dead and Dynamite. Condensed proceedings:
-Mike hates Bright Eyes with a fiery passion due to the emotionally-abusive-bastard undertone to some of his lyrics. He was at a Bright Eyes show and actually had to run out to the lobby to calm himself down and prevent himself from shouting the guy down.
-Mike also called bullshit on my griping about Harris, though he also mentioned that sometimes, yes, he did do editing like what happened to my Kid Koala piece and all you have to do is put your foot down and he'll cut it out. Which is what I did and what he did so it's cool, I guess. I'm going to ease off the bitterness in that dept. now.
-Lots of great listening recommendations from him. He told me that I should buy the James Brown Star Time box set like NOW because once I do it will be the only thing I will listen to for a month and I will desperately want more. It's James Brown, so it seems like a pretty plausible scenario to me.
-Also stated: Todd Edwards is great. Audiogalaxy time!
-Josh didn't say much but he was cool.

I feel much better about things in general, actually, and I started writing the 1978 QCPM blurbs last night. They're pretty good so far.

-Nate

Wednesday, May 15, 2002 -- 10:52 a.m.

I could get used to this "update the blog every couple hours" routine. That does not bode well, I think. Anyhow, more ruminations on my brief freelancing gig with City Pages, where my constant cranky letters led me to a brief career writing rave reviews of albums I don't listen to much anymore.

An article about a local hip-hop crew and a sorta-controversial deli/music venue that was both my first article and the first thing I did involving more reporting than criticism since I wrote for the Central High Times. It's got some really cheesy moments ("See, look, there's no pimps or guns at this show!"), but it really was a fun show and I got to hang out with some high school friends I hadn't seen for years, riding back to St. Paul late at night listening to the Blackalicious "A to G" EP. Good times.
Company Flow, Little Johnny From the Hospital: In retrospect, I am pissed that El-P made this an instrumental album instead of getting some rhymes on it. Can Ox would sound sick over "Bee Aware". Also in retrospect, it seems that I indulge in a bit of the keefharrisular: backhands at Puffy (who I still think is cheesy, really, but no need to stress that gratuitously) and the RZA (sorta- the "enough to make the RZA sleep with a night light" remark is along the "no small feat" lines, to be honest). I am also unsure whether the term "dis-concertos" is clever or completely pants. And I have since learned that there is a time and place for multiplatinum MCs with party rhymes, albeit sparingly. I don't have this album anymore, though I sorta wish I did.
Jungle Brothers, V.I.P.: This was my first feature-length article and it's kind of lame. I sorta touch on the whole "hip-house" phenomenon and how it's cool that the Jungle Brothers bring it into 2000 via big beat (though they didn't do it a tenth as effectively as Outkast's "B.O.B."). The editor- I think it was Peter Scholtes at this time- added in a few things that didn't seem quite right to me ("adamantly heterosexual"?) and cut some things that I thought were clever but might have just been lame (I originally called Gift of Gab's lyrical skills "magically Blackalicious"), but I let it slide for some reason. I'm also unsure how my Straight Out the Jungle=Raw Power analogy holds up, since more people associate the latter with Iggy Pop madness and proto-punk rather than a notable example of an album that desperately needed remastering (as SotJ does). Now that I have a world of impossible-to-find music within reach thanks to Audiogalaxy, I should probably look for some of these Crazy Wisdom Masters tracks. I no longer own this album, since my initial fervor sort of cooled off and the cheesiness of a lot of the lyrics started to become grating. There isn't anything as gleefully disco-funkular as "What U Waitin' For", either. Producer Alex Gifford, meanwhile, has sort of disappeared off the face of the earth or something save that one "Goldfinger" remix by the Propellerheads from last year.
Kid Koala, Carpal Tunnel Syndrome: As previously mentioned. The re-editing made me sound like a bitter little smartass with some sort of grudge against DJs, which I found mortifying since (a) they were added without my knowledge and (b) my brother is a DJ. If I was a turntablist with a kid brother that got printed in a huge weekly paper disparaging my musical tendencies, I'd be thirty-two flavors of pissed. Scrapped line du jour: Koala sounds like "Chuck Chillout on nitrous". Still have this album; still love it.
Jurassic 5, Quality Control: Hrm. Another backhand aside against mainstream rap, but I get to use the term "Jiffy Crunk". Notice I spend a bit of time talking about J5's MC harmonics and catchy choruses and not much time talking about the rest of their lyrics, which are actually sort of forgettable. I had this album, sold it, had it again, sold it again and might just buy it again for some damn fool reason I can't quite sum up. It's one of those kinds of records.
Talib Kweli and Hi-Tek, Reflection Eternal: Or was it Reflection Eternal, Train of Thought? I don't know. Anyhow, this is probably the best thing I wrote for CP, despite the fact that there's a sentence in there that doesn't end properly and I'm probably way too hard on Hi-Tek's production. I still have this album- this is actually the first CD I ever got as a promo review copy instead of actually buying it in the store- and I think the only thing that keeps me from listening to it more often is the fact that being in a slim-case with no cover artwork doesn't let it jump out at me from my CD shelf. I am kicking myself for leaving the Blackalicious/Kweli First Ave show last month before Kweli actually went on stage. It was a sort of reactionary protest against the retard that kept shouting "Kweli!" during Blackalicious' set.
Fatboy Slim, Halfway Between the Gutter and the Stars; Roni Size and Reprazent, In The Mode: My last article for 'em, in which I discuss two members of the Class of '97 Big Electronica Boom trying to survive in a time where big beat and jungle get shrugged at by the press. I got a letter two weeks later from some ex-pat knuckleknob in Hungary who complained that I was out of touch because techno music is all over the place in Budapest. That's nice. Anyhow, I like the Fatboy Slim stuff more than I did when I wrote the article; "Sunset (Bird of Prey)" is actually pretty exhilirating, "Weapon of Choice" is decent enough and even if "Ya Mama" does bite the Chemical Brothers, it still rocks like a bastard. I don't have this CD anymore, but I'm probably gonna wind up picking it up in the used bins somewhere since it's actually aged better in my mind than You've Come A Long Way, Baby. As for the Roni Size bit, I'm just glad I mentioned Basement Jaxx without talking shit about them because I was in a bad way back then and didn't realize how great they were. The Roni Size CD is about as good as I made it sound, but the thing is I stopped really listening to it after a few months. Good singles album, though.
I wound up sort of losing my drive to write after I got a really cool full-time job a month after the Fatboy/Roni article was printed. (It didn't help that the check for that article took some four months to finally make its way to my PO Box.) I tried getting back in touch with 'em earlier this year- they have a new editor now, Melissa Maerz, who is an enjoyable writer at times. She asked me to review a CD by cLOUDDEAD (or whatever ganked-from-fIREHOSE capitalization method they use) that I absolutely detested on first listen, but I didn't want to end my writing hiatus with "hi, there're these really popular Anticon kids and I know you all love them but this CD makes me want to smoke crack and die" so I politely declined. Maybe I'll get something later, I don't know.

I suppose this is my way of saying I am currently available as a freelance record reviewer- just don't ask me to write about anything that heavily involves Dose One because I won't be able to sit through it.

-Nate

Wednesday, May 15, 2002 -- 09:03 a.m.

You know, if he actually found a way to write about music he likes without constantly taking swipes at music he doesn't, Keith Harris might be tolerable. Instead, all I really gleaned from his review of the new Cornershop album is how little he thinks of DJ Spooky (he's pretentious!), Sonic Youth (they're white record geeks!) and Beck (he's a phony and his fans don't know how to dance!). Maybe I'm just bitter that he (without consent) added smarmy remarks like "rooming with several thousand slabs of obscure vinyl might knock you for an elliptical loop" and sticking parenthetical (yawn)s in a Kid Koala review I wrote when he was editor, but still: Give. It. A. Rest.

-Nate

Wednesday, May 15, 2002 -- 08:20 a.m.

I am suffering a moral quandary. Now I consider myself fairly progressive and I sympathize with the cause of the blue collar laborer, and I consider unions a necessary force in helping workers' rights stay intact. However: my apartment is on a semi-commercial street right next to a storefront that houses a plumbing and heating service. The pipefitters' union is currently on strike, so they have a few guys standing outside starting sometime between 7-8 AM every day (or at least every weekday) holding picket signs that read "WE ARE ON STRIKE" in large typeface. Many people driving down my street share my views on the necessity of unions, and they are eager to show their support, which is why every three to fifteen minutes starting at around 8 AM I hear this:
HONK HONK HONK HONK
(Be aware that this includes commercial trucks and other large vehicles with 250dB airhorns.)
Another important detail:
Time I got to bed last night/earlier this morning: Around 2:30
Time I was first awaken by aforementioned honkery: 8:00
I'm within inches of calling in strikebreakers myself.

Being cranky and all, I suppose it's a good time for me to address a months-long annoyance that's been gnawing at me. It's time to take the Hipster Detritus Super Quiz For Rock Critics!
Listen to the following songs, if time allows:
A) The Velvet Underground: "Oh! Sweet Nuthin'"; "Heroin"; "Sister Ray"; "Sweet Jane"; "Pale Blue Eyes"
B) The Stooges: "1969"; "Loose"; "Fun House"; "Gimme Danger"; "Search and Destroy"
C) Television: "Little Johnny Jewel"; "Marquee Moon"; "Venus De Milo"; "Friction"; "Torn Curtain"
D) The Jam: "Away From The Numbers"; "The Modern World"; "Strange Town"; "Heat Wave"; "Start!"
Given this cross-section of each musical group's typical work, which of these bands do The Strokes most closely resemble?
(Answer: If you picked anything besides "D", you fail. FAIL FAIL FAIL.

-Nate

Wednesday, May 15, 2002 -- 01:32 a.m.

Feeling better about myself now. It helps that I watched part of The Amazing Colossal Man on MST3K. "This is your house and you're in it and I'm out here laughing!"

I might as well do something useful with this update, so here is a link to the rokkblog of a guy what calls himself "Badger". Not sure why (Wisconsinian? Digs holes? Stylish sideburns?), but he can write pretty damn good.

-Nate

Tuesday, May 14, 2002 -- 08:22 p.m.

You might want to ignore this if you don't like "oh man I just realized I hate my writing" angst and pity-party crap.

I finished writing my article on the QCPM '77 mix earlier today and I already am very unhappy with it, which is why I hid it in the archives five hours after the fact. It doesn't help that I have been invited to meet Matos and one of his friends tomorrow at some coffeehouse, where I will probably sit around and look confused as they talk intellectual/analytical stuff before I chime in with something like "yeah, I really like the riff in that one" and come off as King Rockist Dimwit. But back to QCPM (jeez, even the acronym is starting to look stupid to me): Between the didactic history lessons (despite my tenuous grasp on music lore), the naive yay-for-this cheerleading ("this song is spectacular/great/pretty damn cool") and the not very weighty, purple-prose-laden halfassed mini-blurbs I wind up resorting to by the end, I'm starting to actually question my ability as someone who can actually write about music instead of just listen to, appreciate and perhaps maybe occasionally post to a messageboard about it. I suppose I could be considered Mr. Safe Twentysomething White Kid as far as my musical tastes run, actually. The last two albums I bought were Blackalicious' Blazing Arrow and Super Furry Animals' Rings Around the World, discs which could probably get me beaten up by emo kids. I like Beck and the Gorillaz; I have little to no interest in Jay-Z or Fugazi. I was shocked to discover on the ILM board that lots of people hate the Clash and one of them is lovable Moog nerd Momus- shit, he's been sued by Wendy Carlos, so he's probably more up on things than I am. I've taken a serious interest in cheesy '70s library music ferchrissakes.
(God help me, I even love the Strokes.)
Maybe I'm just beating myself up and my writing is actually better than I think because almost everyone has problems with their own writing. It's sort of hard to tell sometimes. Maybe it isn't even my writing but my whole view of music that's screwed up; I've had a lot of antagonistic undertones to my thoughts lately and even if it's not obvious I feel like I've been writing with an automatic defense mechanism in mind: "This song is GREAT here's WHY and THAT'S THAT". Again, perhaps it is ILM's fault. They seem to hate a lot of my favorite bands- did I mention that?
Whatever the case: I am going to sit down and listen to Radio Birdman and the Buzzcocks and Magazine and Suicide Commandos and Joy Division and The Cars and Parliament and Cheap Trick and The Who and Patti Smith and I will find out what makes me love their music if it kills me, damn it.

Unrelated: jbr has taken to calling me "Nate Detritus", which sounds like the sort of name I'd have if I started a punk band 25 years ago.

-Nate