Further proof of the utter uselessness of music reviews

6 Jan

God bless The A.V. Club for trying, and I’m not here to pick on anyone’s writing skills (glass houses and all that), but below are the descriptors in a review for a band called Neon Indian. A.V. gave it an “A”, so I was curious to learn about what they sounded like, the genre they fit in, the other bands they compared to, etc. I love new music, love checking out new artists. I was intrigued. But instead of being provided such elementary information, I was treated to these descriptions of the album:

“perfectly mixed sun-damaged cassette fuzz and lazily synthesized pop idolatry”

“Palomo’s voice sounds like it’s been melted to the song’s flangey, bouncy core”

““Terminally Chill,” which re-imagines the deadened electronic thrust of Daft Punk as a crackly thing built of poor posture and refurbished parts.”

“lo-bit keyboard crunch and gooey melancholia”

“balmy psychedelia and breezy infectiousness”

Gooey melancholia! That may just be my new go-to descriptor when either griping about how much I hate music reviews, and/or making fun of writers who are overly proud of their own vocabulary. I honestly have no clue what this band sounds like. Not the slightest. Furthermore, I kinda-sorta suspect this “review” was written a joke, some sort of sociological experiment to see if anyone would notice.

Well, A.V. Club: I noticed. And while I love and appreciate your work, I kindly ask that in the future you take a step back and clarify just what in the hell you are talking about.


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