Classic Christgau Zings

I admit that some of the tunes retain considerable nostalgic appeal, but there's no way I can get around it--Jim Morrison sounds like an asshole.

In a desperate attempt to market Ian McCulloch's crumpled shirts and skin problems (two of the most likable things about him, I'd say)

And now let me give it up to an I Love Music post by Pitchfork's Scott Plagenhoef: "off-kilter, upbeat guitar pop, with--in comparison to their peers--something singular about both their music (e.g. not just the touches of African pop but the willingness to use space and let the songs breathe a bit) and their lyrics (detail-heavy, expressive; too bad they're images of wealth instead of poverty, otherwise they'd be critical manna)." Right on, my brother.

the gloom merchants at Factory/Factus

Back when my hair was halfway down my back and my Lower East Side apartment cost $45 a month, I scoffed at hippie's insularity, self-righteousness, privilege, and half-assed analysis of the marketplace. And in the postpunk era I've been wont to ask, "Why so glum, chum?"

i am having trouble parsing that but it seems like a not-great sentiment expressed in a way that's kinda proud of itself

neoclassicist Strokes/Stripes guff

Only in Australia or some similar well-heeled backwater could an unknown art student write, direct, edit, and star in a wacko comedy that took place anywhere but in his own head.

That these silly middlebrow hacks should hang in long enough to become stars is the usual biz fable. That they should do so with danceable rock and roll that sounds smart in the background is one more sign that the world is coming to an end.

He never included that blurb in the published Consumer Guide, which makes sense because he was fucking wrong

What a cerebral band--if they keep on at this rate, they'll inspire more deep thinking than David Bowie and Henry Cow combined.

Bitch bitch bitch, bloat bloat bloat.

Not that "If the South Woulda Won" can be said to go against the Nashville grain--nobody really wants to go back to slavery, understand, but if that's the price of more hangings and no more foreign cars, we may have to bite the bullet. Anyway, Hank drops in a good word for Martin Luther King on the very next song. How much do these people want?

Not as stupid as they sound--but do they sound stupid.

Back when I was a young feller, we called these things hootenannies, only we thought they needed songs

I mean, is Eno really completely fascinated by banality?

You'll wonder: Is Zooey Deschanel homier than Feist, or just a good actress?

Lou sure is adept at figuring out new ways to shit on people.

Long-winded young wankers so insularly indie they're incomprehensible to anyone who hasn't been softened up by Wowee Zowee and the Meat Puppets

An active member of the Fraternal Order of Old Farts since birth

these cheesy media sluts want to Grow Musically

he's sweet enough to come out on the losing side sometimes, but in the end he'll probably "let that lovely creature down," because he can't resist a piece of ass

Of course, the latter may not notice any difference, because doomsday is Mr. Radiohead's neighborhood. Go to their page in the All Music Guide and find under Tones (capitalized like the Platonic forms they are): "Enigmatic, Somber, Reflective, Intense, Plaintive, Wistful, Bittersweet, Paranoid, Gloomy, Wintry, Poignant, Aggressive, Theatrical, Eerie, Earnest, Melancholy, Angst-Ridden, Brooding." Sounds pretty inviting, doncha think? No wonder they matter so much. (Right, now I'm being sarcastic.)

is that all you do on ILM?

avant-bigots

is that all you do on ILM?

Once you learn to tell them from the Stoned Tempo Pirates, the Stolen Pesto Pinenuts, the Gray-Templed Prelates, Temple of the Dog, Pearl Jam, and Wishbone Ash, you may decide they're a halfway decent hard rock act.

The last thing we need is collegiate existentialism nostalgia.

high-texture also-rans process rock and roll readymades through art school sensibilities and infernal machines

Calling Neil Tennant a bored wimp is like accusing Jackson Pollock of making a mess.

They call Australia Oz because it's about as exotic as Kansas upside down.

Only on the oceanbound land mass where acid house was Beatlemania would anyone sit still for such earnest post-rock tripe.

Some Amurricans think a whispered "Je te desire" is por . . . er, erotic--sexy! I've always preferred "I wanna fuck you" myself.

Anglophobes and wimpbashers won't hear it

watch out America--well-mannered four-part harmonizers are coming to fuck your daughters

I swear these tuneful blandos were hands-down winners of the REO Speedwagon eight-track earmarked for the Least Alternative "Alternative" of 1994 before I ever read their bio. I swear I didn't know the front man studied guitar at Berklee and took his band name band from The Fountainhead.

almost hooky enough to reconcile me to a world that needs Marxist background music

But you have to ask yourself just exactly what kind of repository of All That Is Highest in Western Civilization it is that remains so susceptible to the brummagem, the bathetic, the half-assed, and the utterly full of shit.

Benetton boys adrift on Tony Blair's morass of neoliberal compromise

I was fully prepared to get close to the high-tech textures and artificial energy of mindless electrodisco. In a few cases I did, too: Utah Saints! Utah Saints!

seven years and no response from clemenza ;_;

Wish this "illegitimate son of man" would stop pretending he's a pimp--he tours so much he can't possibly provide the necessary continuity.

Down from 48 percent to 35 at amiannoying.com, not because they're less annoying but because they're less successful.

purty music, but I yawn like a lawn when I hear him recite

Hopeless eccentric spends most of his adult life and a large chunk of his ill-gotten fortune trying to make the perfect album. Succeeds, kind of, on his own totally irrelevant terms. Nobody cares.

college radio wouldn't know a good rhythm section if one played live in the studio

Lol at those last two.

Male computer nerds who've mastered a culture of affluence without making sense of their sex lives should listen up.

Hopeless eccentric spends most of his adult life and a large chunk of his ill-gotten fortune trying to make the perfect album. Succeeds, kind of, on his own totally irrelevant terms. Nobody cares.

^a fair assessment of Mark Hollis's solo album, imho

"666[bent downward arrow or else some emoji I'm too uncool to recognize]"