I am going to be reblogging this every December from now on.
Though I haven’t been a real rock critic for years (if I ever was), this was the year that I finally shed the last vestiges of it. From 1998 to 2009 that was how I made my living. I never liked it. It’s not a world where thoughtfulness is particularly prized; instead the game is reacting strong and faster (better is irrelevant) than everyone else. It’s a game that serves the critics themselves, rarely the readers.
Earlier this year I left my music job to do something of my own. I was nervous about this decision. I’ve worked in music for a long time — part of my identity has always been wrapped up in it (and in later years that identity became my reluctance about this fact, which was particularly exhausting) — and I was fearful that leaving that world would turn me into a very normal pumpkin.
And maybe it did. But what I also discovered was that music became a lot more fun. My old job was to have a sellable POV on the next six months. I had to know everything before everyone else, what context to frame it in, and how to make it interesting to people who wouldn’t find that kind of thing interesting. It was often fun and rewarding and I was quite good at it, but over time the discrepancy between what I liked and what I pushed became too great. It bothered me.
I’m particularly happy not being a music critic right now, during Top Ten season. I hate making lists. First, I’m not very good at them, but even more it’s that these are things to be “good” at. Silly, isn’t it? And seeing these decade things, watching hands furtively trying to gather the sprawled mess of ten years of art into a one-page feature that says more than I care to read about Radiohead and the internet just feels… hollow. I feel for Joe Public who goes out and buys Merriweather Post Pavilion or Dear Science because of a rock critic’s recommendation. They certainly won’t let that happen again.
Though the internet has blown this up to some degree, a writer needs an audience, a constituency, a vessel to whom they are imparting fact, opinion, context. It’s probably too much to ask for a relationship but an exchange of ideas seems perfectly reasonable. But music criticism never allowed for that space. It was always more important to move onto something else.
It’s only since leaving this world that I’ve realized what an asshole I was while in it. About two months after leaving my music job I had dinner with a very good friend who still works in the industry. Eventually we got around to talking about records, and he asked my opinion on a number of hyped bands that I knew very little about. The real inflection point came when he asked me if I thought one band “was over.” I pointed out that this was the first I had ever heard of them, so probably not. It was a weird moment.
At some point over the next week I’ll probably break down and post some records that I like. But I won’t expect you to like them. My taste is mine and your taste is yours. I claim no agency over what moves you — it assumes a dynamic that doesn’t actually exist. But before I do I wanted to share something that I wrote on my old blog five or six years ago about list-making. May it help you avoid the bullshit.
The Anatomy of a Top Ten
01 The Consensus Pick
The first choice sets the tone for the entire list. A critic can either go for the consensus top pick, which earn the trust of a reader, or could make a grand statement by choosing an unlikely number one. 95% of the time a critic will opt for the cultural product he likes that most other people like as well.02 The Real Number One
I generally assume that the number two item on a Top Ten list is a writer’s real number one, especially if it’s something that’s not especially familiar to the reader. It takes courage to put one’s idiosyncratic tastes front and center; it’s safer to tuck it in just a bit.03 The One They Will No Longer Like Next Year
If any spot lends itself to listing something that a critic wants to like rather than actually likes, it’s the third place. Maybe the critic likes the idea of the product more than the product itself. Maybe the critic thinks that the item gives him a certain amount of cultural capital to wield. In the movie world, this is known as The Foreign Film Slot.04 The Disappointment
This is something that early on seemed like a potential number one, but that has not stood up well to repeated viewings/readings/listenings. Always avoid number four.05 The Sentimental Favorite
Placed any higher and this would stick out as either pedestrian or foolhardy. Put here in the middle, it can instead be merely a curiosity. Number five is a good personality slot — you can tell a lot about a critic by what goes here.06 Wish They Liked It More Than They Do
This is a retread of number four, only there were lower expectations going into it. There are good moments, but more than likely the critic is the only one who hears them.07 The Popular Kid
The blockbuster/bestseller that the critic didn’t completely dislike goes here, simply because it will give the reader a sense of comfort that will be needed through the final three.08 The Token
Somewhere between number seven and number nine you’ll get the token selection from a genre that a critic clearly has no business trafficking in. The token pick implies a much broader knowledge than actually exists. The token pick will almost always be laughed at by specialists in whatever genre, even if they too enjoy the product.09 The Anonymous
It’s here that the critic really shoves around his “heard it all” weight. Seemingly at random, a critic will pluck something from the abyss and declare it overlooked, then smugly sit back and admire his handiwork.10 The Catch-All
Undoubtedly the preceding nine choices will omit some movement that the critic would be embarrassed to completely ignore, even if he did so during the previous year. To counteract that, the critic then arbitrarily chooses something that suggests that there could be 20 more items on the list that would be equally impressive and well-considered.
