As a music writer, I find myself writing more album reviews than anything else. Yes, I often am writing manifestos that draw from my own musings as a listener and observer to tackle the more abstract and personal facets of the musical experience, but I don’t think that requires the same kind of formulaic process that reviewing an album does. Those kind of pieces fall into the category of writing that almost demands the absence of process (stream-of-consciousness seems to work best in these kinds of situations), as preconceived notions and the boundaries of reason can sometimes be obstacles when it comes to that kind of thought. But when it comes to more formal criticism, there are steps that I consciously take to correctly construct a thoughtful and accessible evaluation of a piece of artistic effort.
Back when I started writing music criticism, I thought the only way to do so was to assign some sort of alphanumeric grade to a piece to coerce readers to awaken a possibly misplaced trust in me, the writer, to guide the listener in the right direction. For years I have foolishly bound myself to the harsh numerical ratings put forth by music blogs like Pitchfork and Consequence of Sound, blindly following the guidance of critical writers that gleefully dictate what’s good and what is sub-par. Pitchfork is perhaps the most brutal of all music blogs, taking any one or several minor imperfections and warping them into such exaggerated flaws that in turn inexplicably fall victim to unprecedented disdain, garnering the unjust label of music that is not worthy of praise. Anything that falls short of Pitchfork’s terribly high standards is almost automatically deemed unfit for human ears. This is not a fair system. Their terribly faulty 10-point system, occasionally peppered with self-satisfying commendations of albums labeled as “Best New Music” (as if they know what’s best), is at the same time infectious and disheartening. I think we as humans crave so-called experts to tell us what is good and what is bad; that’s why we listen to such critics. Admittedly, for my first couple reviews, I unwittingly prescribed my critical structure to such rubrics. When I finally realized that I had very little negative things to say about the albums I was reviewing, I decided to abandon the numerical grading system altogether and construct my own system of criticism.
Photo by Jon Jordan
I kind of hate the word ‘criticism.’ It carries with it such a negative connotation that invokes uncomfortable feelings of mediocrity and self-doubt. I guess that’s just how the English language works. However, in the modern age, we have such terms like “constructive criticism,” in which the words of elders and experts are carefully tuned to summon positive results from undesirable performances using careful language and an encouraging tone. When it comes to music reviews, however, we as writers and critics are not guiding artists, but rather listeners. We are not in the position to give advice to artists and bands to better their craft; rather we are forced to grade them on their performance, despite how hard they have worked. What do music writers know about composition, poetry, artistic effort? Often, nothing. But somehow we feel entitled to grade someone else’s artistic vision, acting as a discerning, judicious middleman between artist and listener. Well, that just doesn’t sit well with me.
A few semesters ago, I attended a workshop dealing with non-violent communication put on by a fellow student. I felt the ideals put forward during this workshop could be translated to my chosen medium, and so from then on I sought to offer a truly personal and honestly specific perspective when offering critical analysis to music. Since then I have abandoned the use of alphanumeric grading, instead offering a frank and sincere reflection on how one’s music speaks to me. Granted, I avoid writing negative reviews, thus focusing my energies on artists and albums that speak to me personally. I feel that if a specific artist or band or specific album doesn’t speak to me, why should I derail the artistic message of a certain effort? Music is a strange and wonderful being, one that seems to transcend any other art form and speak to individuals in unique and fascinating ways. I can’t bear to assume that what I have to say about some collection of songs or an artist’s style holds any sort of importance over what other people might think about it. Thus, when I write my reviews, I generally write about albums that I find exceptional, and tend to avoid any sort of negative commentary.
If I decide to write about an album, it is usually by way of certain circumstance. Sometimes I am assigned albums or EPs or songs, and if I don’t respond positively, I may refuse to provide a response for the reasons I have stated above. On the other hand, if I feel a certain connection, then I will respond accordingly. I will often listen to an album several times, firstly decoding the instrumental tone, followed by a careful investigation of lyrical content. More often than not, the instrumentation speaks to me on a different level than the lyrics. Often, the instrumentation has a more profound effect on me. Back when I was in high school, I was much more used to the opposite: lyrics often gave me greater insight to an artist’s vision more than the musical structure. I don’t know what has happened in the past several years, but nowadays I find myself responding more to the sound and musical structure more than what the song is literally saying through lyrics (I often prefer to review instrumental pieces for this reason, though I find enjoyment in decoding poetic imagery and lyrical subtext).
Often after examining musical structure and tone, I will delve into the words (if there are any), scoping out any motifs or themes that are present in stanzas/verses/choruses, and drawing conclusions that are cohesive with other lyrics and also with instrumental structure. I have only taken a few music theory classes but I find that I have an innate ear for common theme when it comes to sound and poetic nuance. From there, I go through the album (track-by-track sometimes), and discuss my personal findings, yet refrain from demanding any sort of need for concurrence when it comes to my findings. As with most art forms, I feel that any artistic piece speaks specifically to an individual, so I assume no position of expertise or specified knowledge.
I just want to tell people if something is good. I want to share. Really, that is all I’m going for here. If it’s good to me, it might be good to someone else. I am especially in no position to say that something is bad, and personally, I find it annoyingly arrogant that there are those out there that feel that kind of entitlement. I understand it’s a part of the job, but fuck that. I just want to share the wealth. Honestly. It might mean that I never get a great paying job as a music writer, but if that’s the world I have to live and work in, I’m not sure I want to be a part of it.
I like reviewing music and telling people how great it is. Sure, I have my opinions on what is good and what is not, but I am certainly not going to shove them down anyone’s throat. And anyone who does is just a bully. Because I think a crucial part of human free will is finding our own bliss, and if someone is going to tell me that what I love is crappy, then my natural reaction is just going to be a big old middle finger to them, and I will turn back to my crappy music on my crappy iPod, and I will close my eyes and smile, knowing that no blog and no person will ever tear me away from what I yearn to listen to. And that’s the way it should be.
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