(Coolfer was offered an op-ed by a member of the music community and is posting it here. Music website Pitchfork has become a lightning rod and has its supporters and critics. This piece was written by one of the latter. Don't bother asking me identify the author. Coolfer's obstinance would make Judith Miller look like a stool pigeon.)

As Glenn pointed out on Friday, there are plenty of Pitchfork Media haterz on blogs and message boards these days -- even more since the eventful six-ads-!flashing!-in-your-face redesign of January of this year; or that recent ridiculously complimentary New York Times article; or the fawning profile in the New York Observer.

Yes, this might just be another case of the New York media elite finding a new, hot thing to cover so mercilessly as to hammer it into the ground (viz metrosexuals, garage rock, trucker hats). But it does sort of seem as if the tide has turned in the battle between print and digital. As far as the music world is concerned, digital is starting to come out on top.

But I'm not here to debate what "the kids" think of the 21st century Rolling Stone. (Okay, fuck that. Pitchfork is neither as important nor as well written as Rolling Stone circa 1969.) I'm here to point out how onerous the effects of Pitchfork are. Fans and industry folks alike would do well to give it some thought.

With roughly 125,000 unique visitors per day we have empowered Pitchfork as our gatekeeper and, on the surface, it makes a lot of sense. Over the last five years we've stood up, done a little dance, and said, "Hooray! The Internet has won the battle over music magazines! It's managed to sweep aside a good chunk of the major label and mainstream media gatekeepers who limit the world's choices for the benefit of their own reputations and wallets."

Further, we've adopted a simple numerical rating system that reflects how we usually rate things with our peers (i.e. "that girl is like a 10" vs. "that girl is like 5 stars"). No one can remember what Pitchfork said about The Arcade Fire's Funeral, but that 9.7 rating is 4eva.

The only problem with our little underground empowerment party is that our new gatekeeper -- whose symbol is ironically that of the devil -- fits the role like American Apparel hot shorts on a scantily clad undergrad.

I did just that through a quick survey of the first ten people I could get on the phone (indie publicists, musicians who have been either trashed or praised or both by Pitchfork, an agent who books a Pitchfork favorite, an indie label owner, and two good ol' fans/friends). Nine out of ten said it would be better not to get a Pitchfork review at all than to get pricked by the 'Fork. (Meaning a rating of 5.0 or less amidst what often seems a field of limitless and meaningless reviews in the 7.5 range.) The odd person out was a publicist who still believes in the P.R. rule that "there's no such thing as bad press." My guess is that my other respondents would pretty much agree except that Pitchfork is often, seemingly an exception. When asked why, no one had such specific answers regarding the negative effects of a bad Pitchfork review, but in so many words everyone said it was because "everyone reads it" and takes note of the ratings. And worse, some people act upon it.

Indeed, the real effects back up the sentiment of fear growing in the independent music underground: record stores won't stock up on releases that get poor scores despite other positive press; college and specialty radio promoters admit that a few handfuls of key stations base their enthusiasm for a record on it's Pitchfork score; and other press outlets decide on coverage -- you guessed it -- based on scores. Sure, an Andrew W.K.'s 0.6 isn't going to keep Island/Def Jam's marketing department up at night. (The kind of mediocre album will just make them shrug, and go, "Fuck, let's get Jay-Z in US Magazine again.") But what on earth's the point of giving Travis Morrison's Travistan a 0.0? Did Barsuk leave some coal in Ryan Schreiber's stocking? If we give in to Travistan do the terrorists win?

And so the question becomes this: Is it worth the risk for the bands, labels, and publicists in the indie label underground to send their records to Pitchfork?

The stunning conclusion after the click...

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