Have album reviews been on a downward trend recently? It's not as if I've just recently noticed that music critics talk about everything but the actual merits of the album being reviewed; this has gone on for years--if not decades. I remember reading a review of Rollerskate Skinny's Horsedrawn Wishes and having a flashback to an upper-divison sociology class I once took. Not once did the review say if it was a good or bad or average album. There was a lot of scholastic mumbo jumbo and tons of beating around the bush. Hey, just say if it's worth my money, OK? That's why people read these things, to find out if the album's a waste of money. But I've noticed it a lot lately. Especially in the Village Voice. Geeta Dayals' review of the new Liars's record, for example, left me wondering where on a scale of one to whatever it ranked. At the end of a non-commital review, Dayal ends with: "Unable to stem the messy tide on its own, the album dishes out equal parts signal and noise, leaving it to the listener to sort out the goods." No, the reader is left to sort out the goods. The listener already owns the album and knows if it's good or bad.
For once, can somebody put in words, without room for interpretation, whether or not an album is good or bad? Use whatever Roget-approved synonym you want, but at the end of the review I would love to have a good feeling on the album's artistic worth. Too much to ask? I hope not.
Maybe it's me. I don't know. And to any music critics reading this, I completely understand that this isn't a black-and-white issue. Not every album can simply be exhaulted as good or knocked as bad. But, for the sake of readers everywhere, how about throwing in an adjective every now and again?
On a similar thread, a lot of album reviews discuss the financial implications of the band's album and contract and net per-night merchandise sales at concerts. Not only do music critics gauge--or not gauge, unfortunately--the quality of an album, but they take the opportunity to play armchair A&R guy. 'Oh, I never would have signed this band to such a huge contract,' they'll rumble. 'This has no chance of going platinum. It's the best album I've heard in 18 months, but it won't sell a million units, that's for sure. What were the suits at the label thinking? You can put a monkey in that executive's suit, stick him in a chair, give him Blackberry and that monkey will sign better talent than the guy who cleared this album for production.'
The Onion's recent review of Franz Ferdinand's debut was just as concerned about predicting the future chart position and impact of the band as it was talking about its qualities. (Let me just say that Coolfer if guilty of this as well, though these thoughts are more op-ed than album review banter.) "The problem of translating massive waves of British hype into American sales has long puzzled the U.K. rock machine," it starts out. "For every Coldplay, there's an Elbow, a South, a Gay Dad, a Cast, and a Kula Shaker wondering how such a deafening roar of approval could be so dim just an ocean away."
Then writer Josh Modell makes his prediction: "Prepare...for a potentially lukewarm hello." And a bold precition it is! Good thing he's not on Sony's board of directors.
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