OK, is this the worst piece of music writing ever?

deep desire to be loved, receive free links to 128k advance mp3s

to get girls

are right about everything, need people to know this

connect to albums by bands as if they are g.i. joe figures, want to play with them forever

nv & matt otm

Free Swervedriver tix

Weedeater man those dudes are some scary fuckin rednecks they look like they'd knife you I think dude was drinking cough syrup onstage

The guy who wrote the Swervedriver review is a mine of pure gold.

On Swans: "Beneath faded spotlights, Thor Harris gently strokes a gong. His beating causes an almost erosive ambience. Minutes and minutes and minutes go by. The climate is still. Members of the group trickle in one at a time. Michael Gira arrives last. He reapplies fabric to his elbow as a cushion against the body of his guitar. The volume grows and voices are lost in the ramshackle."

He's versatile, too – he can be bad an all genres. Here is on JME: "Yet while JME preaches over the fruits of veganism and the toils of A&R depravity, there is a storming vocal aggression that uppercuts the purls of his production. Behind the computer console accreditations, the Nazir Mazhar citations and internet meme quotes is an unquenched ferocity fuelled by the desire to be self-sufficient in an unforgiving social climate."

And interviewing Dylan Carlson: “I joke I only had one good idea in my lifetime and have decided to run with it.” He laughs earnestly, winter winds bayonetting at his lungs as he relieves the catarrh from his throat. Carlson is currently travelling with his bandmates Adrienne Davies and Dom McGreevy to the north of England, a place he treasures for its folklore and sardonic humour. There’s this giddy movement to his delivery. “Obviously I’m as happy as pig in shit to be back in the UK,” he cracks another chesty cackle.

his use of language really is unique, isn't it?

Not totally unique; there's a jazz critic, Derek Taylor, who's almost as bad. It's thesaurus addiction - write a clear sentence, then pull the book out and pick the most obscure possible replacement for each word.

it's not just replacing words, though, the structure is nutso too

I don't know how you end up writing like that if English is your first language (or even second tbh). It's not bad like most of the writing on the thread is bad. It's truly bizarre.

"he cracks another chesty cackle" -- are we sure he's not just randomly quoting Finnegans Wake?

OH fuck

I think I met this guy's roommate at a Weyes Blood gig on Tuesday, he had to use my phone to access Facebook and his contact was called Tom Watson. I asked whether the MP or the golfer. It transpired to be someone yet greater

I mean, now that there's an orotund London critic game, it's time to convect those stakes upon a rising thermal blast of soliloquy

Tom Watson ‏@onetongue Jan 8
Twelve dead journalists amounts to a populace of thought and satire destroyed. Their pens are the mightiest weapons forged. Very sad.

Skepta’s emotional strong-arming gives off an intensely thick-skinned impression.

This virtual revelation from Skepta caused a potent reaction last year when That’s Not Me came at loggerheads with commercial audiences, heralding a so-called return to form for grime.

If Jane Austen wrote about grime

That must be the first use of the word "catarrh" since 1940.

http://www.mediafire.com/view/scu1gnym05a8xc9/1930019_509053615505_5042_n.jpg

Beneath faded spotlights, Thor Harris gently strokes a dong. His beating causes an almost erosive ambience. Minutes and minutes and minutes go by. The climate is still.

"he cracks another chesty cackle"

totally my stripper name...

I interviewed Dylan Carlson last year and he didn't sound at all phlegmy to me.

It was a revolution of the solar cycle ago when Dylan Carlson and this writer exchanged passionate thrusts of verbosity. No rheumy eruptions could be detected from where I resided, like all hominid creation, in a prison of flesh.

Think he's nailed Fucked Up here. Nothing else need be written about them.

Despite his premature death clock ticking, Abraham and his band of matured Lost Boys are forever scrutinising their ageing subculture. Unlike 2011’s flagrantly ceremonious rock-opera David Comes to Life, their newly released Glass Boys is a disciplined ten-track study of combating age and the music industry. It’s a record of genuine purity, stripped of its predecessor’s conceptual guises. “This record is like all of us giving the best version of what we’ve ever done,” Abraham raves doubtlessly.

Flagrantly ceremonious!
Premature death clock ticking!
Matured lost boys!
Genuine purity!

They read like bad Titus Andronicus lyrics.

shades of eye of argon

"Abraham raves doubtlessly"

I'm glad the AI that wrote the fake newspaper articles in Sim City 2000 is still around and has moved on to music criticism, really missed that guy

in fact, thank you stranger for my new display name

Dammit, you beat me to it

Monday morning treat for the real headz:

http://thequietus.com/users/7759

http://thequietus.com/articles/10111-quicksand-slip-reissue-review

Hardcore’s Youth Crews were suffering from a spot of biological decline and required something slightly decelerated to get angry to. Amongst punk’s wilting complacency and Seattle’s slow-broiling illegitimacy, missing links began to occur. Bands had too many influences and not enough coherent fluidity between them.

"It was 1993 - one year before Kurt Cobain swallowed a mouthful of Remington."

The new Jim Thompson is born.

a mouthful of remington? http://files1.coloribus.com/files/adsarchive/part_27/279655/shaver-remington-shaver-w-doug-flutie-and-victor-kiam-1989-600-13296.jpg

I changed my coherent fluidity this morning.

(have sneaking suspicion i am guilty of a number of this guy's sins myself tbh)

hey fashioned abrasive intelligence, enmeshed with instrumental chaos. It was absolute pandemonium. Yet all the mess and disharmony seemed professionally maintained. The irrefutable severity of tracks like 'Head To Wall' and 'Lie And Wait', elevate beyond anarchy. As snares penetrate incessant hi-hat slaps, sludgy riffs travel like aggressive circle pits. They permeate an authentic dissonance, accentuated by Shreifels’s husked, tonal wails.

Stop. Using. Words.

"The soulful whines of John Legend".

Dorian, I'm spiking your Nina Simone piece and getting Tom Watson to rewrite it.

why would you capitalize "Youth Crews"? like they were the Whig Party or something. maybe the capital Y is okay. it's a sub-genre...but even those don't get capitalized...hmmm....

grammar rules not my strong suit...

Dictionary.com has never heard of the word "consilient."

this is a certain kind of earnest solipsistic dude writing: the boy who thinks he can build style while retaining his authenticity by using a thesaurus, rather than reading good prose written by other humans....

http://www.cine-vue.com/search/label/Tom%20Watson?max-results=30

During the making of Metropolis (1927) Germany was caught in a tundra of political restructure and cinematic prosperity. Beneath the cindered waste cast aside by the First World War was a fatherland set for reform by the Weimar Republic and a film industry set to take the world stage. The so-called 'ethic of change' was in the air and the country's cultural isolation was dwindling. With the realities of war being all too real, the Expressionist movement was en vogue and German auteurs were at the forefront of an artistic uprising. The likes of Robert Weine and Fritz Lang were paving a macabre, fantastical path that would reshape the forms of storytelling. Deep in metaphor, heaped in rhetoric.

It's fortune telling and chaos as death that riddles Wiene's fantastical landscape. At the time, Caligari was said to have unsettled its audiences. Critics applauded its ability to "squeeze and turn and adjust the eye". It was also said to be a criterion for the slowly emerging intentions of Nazism. This is by and large a warped overstatement of a film that was impossible not to influence generations of artists, thinkers and, ultimately governing societies. Wiene's film was an inspiring footnote to the ever-increasing ascendancy of twenties Dada and Surrealism.

Approximately a year ago today, a swarm of antipathy left London in a choke-hold as a series of riots engulfed the capital. What began as a peaceful protest against police brutality mutated into a beast more brutal than anyone could have envisaged. Described as 'copycat violence' by the media, thousands upon thousands took to the streets in a tirade of hateful ignorance. And from this ignorance stemmed an easy target - youth culture. Thankfully, Tarun Thind's 2010 assured short English aims to bring vital balance to the debate.

his writing is a tundra of magisterial clichés and fantastical imagery, a swarm of antipathetic words embracing the reader in a choke-hold of helpless delight

Approximately a year ago today, a swarm of antipathy left London in a choke-hold

pfah, they shoulda took the train

"As snares penetrate incessant hi-hat slaps, sludgy riffs travel like aggressive circle pits. They permeate an authentic dissonance, accentuated by Shreifels’s husked, tonal wails."

Nothing beats that feeling when your authentic dissonance gets fully permeated by.... I have no idea...snares maybe? Sludgy riffs? what is a husked wail, let alone a husked tonal wail?

"The Shreifel's Husked Tonal Whale, a rarity in these sludgy riffs, permeates the authentic dissonance only to be attacked by a roaming gang of aggressive Circlepits, whose snares penetrate the beast's incessant hi-hat slaps."

That reads better tbh