How does an artist survive a bad review? Do they wallow in their misery or do they breathe it all in and come back all the better after taking the criticism to heart? As the still-invincible Doobie Bros once harmonized,… Continue Reading →
WHO: Joshua Tillman aka “Father John Misty” aka “Fleet Foxes Guy” aka “The Most Self Important Asshole On Earth” (thanks Ryan Adams) WHAT: Publicity stunt album rollout alert WHEN: Unfolding right now WHERE: Music blogs, social media, expanding within your… Continue Reading →
Another day, another Pitchfork review of a band with an intriguing name that I’ve never heard of, and yet another example of the immense importance of music critics. Yesterday was possibly the most pivotal moment in a band called Goat… Continue Reading →
Early in the second paragraph of Pitchfork newcomer Alfred Soto’s review of these two Cars reissues he manages to land a tricky one-two punch, dissing classic rock grump Robert Christgau and nailing the populist appeal of the band in one… Continue Reading →
If a wise sage had predicted in 2001 that the louche, leathered-up and super-hyped lead singer of The Strokes would one day, around the golden age of 40, be dropping pounding, ominous darkwave bangers with Indian-inspired shrieking choruses, the elder… Continue Reading →
So I may not know what true hurt feels like, but the death of those three obnoxiously capped letters hits me hard.