The Music Critic

A recent op-ed piece in The Boston Globe, “Love Music, Hold the Criticism,” by longtime Boston journalist Steve Almond prompted a wave of thoughts. Almond’s column dealt with the futility, and even misguidedness, of music criticism. While I don’t agree with everything he wrote, I do agree with some of his points.

Like Almond, I’ve done a fair amount of writing about music, both professionally and personally, over the last 26 years. Unlike Almond (at least in his early years, according to his piece), I’ve never viewed the music critic’s purpose to be one of tossing stinging barbs of superior sensibility or self-indulgent displays of verbal flourish, though evidence suggests that is certainly some scribes’ intent.

Trite as it might sound, I’ve always leaned toward the old ethic: “If you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say anything at all.” That doesn’t mean ignoring the atrocious or fabricating nice things just to meet a word count. But if I don’t like an artist’s music before even going in to a concert or reviewing an album, what’s the point in my writing about it – unless I have some kind of profound conversion experience (itself then possibly a worthy topic)? There’s enough crap around, aren’t we all better served by dedicating our limited time and attention toward the positively remarkable and the truly sublime?

The one notable exception to this in my experience goes all the way back to 1984 or ’85 when I was assigned to review a Joan Jett concert. This was around the peak of her career and the performance was something of a big event for the small city I was living in at the time. Few national rock tours ever came to town.

But I was no fan of Joan Jett. While I love gritty, straight-ahead rock and roll as much as the next person, I saw her as a low-brow, kitschy, MTV-fueled, rock poseur. I went to review the show because I had to, not because I wanted to.

Yet even then, as a 20-something novice music writer, I had enough scruples to know that I had to give her a fair shake. And I did. While I’m sure I did hurl a few amateurish barbs of overly verbose critical élan, the main gist of my review was that the show was better than I had expected – just not really my cup of tea. I went on to describe how Joan undeniably had stage presence and her band was more Rolling Stones-ish (or perhaps Dead Boys mixed with Mott the Hoople) than I had expected – both good things.

For the most part, however, I’ve always figured that my time and, more importantly, my readers’ time and the available editorial space is better spent shining the light on something truly inspiring, and then aiming to shed light on why it’s praiseworthy – for the edification of the uninitiated, the affirmation of the already converted, and even for argumentation with those of opposing view.

Of course, sometimes it is the critic’s role to flag the crud so the rest of us can steer clear of it. But this is most applicable when something is grossly over-hyped and so lacking merit that the shortcomings must be highlighted and explained.

As for Almond’s other comment that criticism of live music can’t begin to capture or explain the “feeling” an audience experiences, I agree – to an extent. The impossibility of wholly capturing in words the etherial magic of music in the moment doesn’t mean one can’t depict some of the spirit, energy and vibe of the occasion. No, there is no substitute for being there, feeling the experience in the interstitial spaces of your being. But when you can’t be there, a trusted critic’s rendering of the experience can stimulate your intuition and imagination – maybe even motivate you to make sure you are there the next time around.

With nearly an unlimited amount of music out there these days, we all need some guideposts and frames of reference – whether they are peer opinions posted on Amazon.com or more professional critiques. The key is to find those guides that resonate with your own sensibilities, so you can rely on their judgment and comments.

In the end, the best criticism – positive or negative – provides context, insight and food for thought; piquing interest and curiosity. I know not everyone shares my tastes and opinions, but if I adequately perform the critic’s role (as I see it), then people can decide for themselves whether or not to give my words credence ... and those who do will find some value in that.

Strummin’ in the Wind

I got this hand-me-down from my father-in-law eight or nine years ago and managed to repair it back to playability. He bought the guitar in pre-Castro era Cuba while stationed there in the Navy. This is the same model guitar that Bob Dylan used at his first Newport Folk Festival appearance in 1963.

1956 Martin 00-17

(Guitars I Have Known #10 – Photo by Rowena Lindsay)

Beck’s Redos and Mash-Ups

I’m probably little more than a middling fan of Beck Hansen’s music. I really like some of his material; other parts I could take or leave. But I’ve become a big a fan of Beck’s website. It’s one of the more interesting and creative official sites for a modern pop musician. I first got drawn into regular visits late last spring after reading music press references to Beck’s new Record Club project, which garnered considerable attention as soon as it was announced.

The way the Record Club works is Beck and various musician pals (including some fairly noteworthy names) get together at his Southern California studio for a day-long impromptu session in which they tackle a slightly off-the-beaten path classic album and re-record it in its entirety. They also shoot video of the proceedings. The results are then fine-tuned and presented on the site as free streaming audio and video. Following the original sequence of the album, one song is added each week. What’s most interesting, besides the various combinations of musicians, is that there is little regard paid to reproducing the songs as they were done back in the day. Instead, the emphasis is on interpretation. The project is less about historical reverence than the gathered artists having fun with the material and each other. The results are modern-sounding productions with an unmistakable Beckian stamp.

Given the volume of material (usually 10 or 12 songs) and the tightness of the timeframe, the quality is impressive. Beck and his buds clearly know their way around many instruments and the ins and outs of the recording studio. The video accompaniments, while given some effect treatments here and there, are closer to home-video affairs.

So far, the Club has tackled the Warholian heroin chic of The Velvet Underground with Nico (featuring classics such as “Run, Run, Run”; “All Tomorrow’s Parties”; “There She Goes Again”; “Waiting for My Man” and “Femme Fatale”), the poetic romance of The Songs of Leonard Cohen (including greats such as “Suzanne”; “Sisters of Mercy” and “So Long, Marianne”), the crazed, psychedelic folk of OAR by ex-Moby-Graper Skip Spence, and INXS’ 1987 blockbuster Kick. Featured artists joining Beck on these endeavors have included Fiest, Wilco (including Jeff Tweedy’s 15-year-old son), Devandra Banhart, Nigel Godrich, James Gadson and members of Wolfmother, MGMT and the noted Brazilian band Os Mutantes, among others. Beck himself takes the lead on many tracks, but does not necessarily dominate the sessions.

Digging into Beck’s website a little further – beneath the standard musician’s web fare of news, music videos and CD tracks; past the quirky videos from Japanese Television; beyond the artist’s interviews with other noted musicians and actors; and aside from the spotlights on various lesser-known visual artists – I stumbled across the section I’ve come to enjoy the most of all: Planned Obsolescence. There I discovered a half-dozen delightfully entertaining mash-ups. Apparently, this is what Beck does in his spare time.

For each of the 15- to 30-minute-long mixes (true, professionally-produced mash-ups, not simply sequenced playlists), he seamlessly interweaves dozens of songs ranging from 1920s’ delta blues and ’70s’ soul to modern European dance tracks and a few recognizable pop and rock hits. This deep musical mining and sonic foundry is compelling: alternately ironic, humorous and even, legitimately funky. If you’re at all musically adventurous, check it out. Mash-ups Nos. 12 - 17 are currently on the site – presumably, the “plan” is for the older (“obsolete”) ones to disappear as new ones are added.

Whether the guy is creating some of the most musical, white-boy crossover rap/hip-hop since the Beastie Boys, playing introspective acoustic folk music (a la Sea Change), tapping the chicano gestalt of L.A. or doing some amalgamation of all of the above, the one-time wunderkind remains a stand-out in music today. And to think, controversial Scientology associations aside, he started out a decade and half ago as just a “Loser.”

Reflections on Resolution and Reverence

I’m a hobbyist musician whose musical ideas often exceed my technical knowledge and abilities. Nevertheless, I dabble and, every once in a while, I come with ... uh, something ... that is reasonably satisfying – to me at least.

I’m in a similar position when it comes to computer technology. I’m far from a code geek, but I’m probably a little more tech savvy than the average Joe (although living in the Boston area with all these MIT grads around, I say that with some reservation). Over the years, I’ve managed to become fairly competent with an array of sound and design technology that is useful in my amateur musical endeavors.

This is why I’ve subscribed to Electronic Musician magazine for the last decade or so. Much of the content is way over my head technically (and often musically, too), yet I find enough of the publication useful, inspiring or thought-provoking to keep me renewing it each year. One of things I always read is Nathaniel Kunkel’s monthly column on modern sound production trends and issues. Kunkel is a Grammy Award-winning producer and engineer who also happens to be a decent writer with interesting and thoughtful things to say.

Kunkel’s most recent column (“Avatar This,” March 2010) addresses the increased cheapening of music today, especially when compared to the film and video industry (with its emphasis on large screens, hi-def, 3D, etc.). Kunkel notes that as music has become more disposable (with the proliferation of low-resolution MP3 files that are dissociated from any meaningful context in their presentation, as well as any focused commitment on the part of the listener), it has become little more than sonic wallpaper. It is ubiquitous, almost always in the background, rarely the focus of attention and, thus, of little value. No wonder the industry is struggling.

Yet, Kunkel points to a small but allegedly growing cadre of consumers who are looking for and finding value in their listening experiences. These are the folks behind the apparent resurgence of the vinyl records market. I’ve seen

the vinyl section increasing at my local music retailer (Newbury Comics) in recent years and, as Kunkel notes, even Best Buy is stocking vinyl now.

Obviously, part of the value and appeal is the packaging (the tangible physicality of it, the large artwork, readable liner notes, etc.). Then there’s the renewed attention to the order and contiguity of the songs – things that still hold meaning to some artists. But perhaps most important, Kunkel says, is the higher resolution of music preserved on vinyl – hence, the “warmer” sound routinely cited by audiophiles.

To me, the first critical step in renewing the satisfaction of good music in our lives is to give it a bit more of our focused attention – even if that still means just popping a CD in the player or selecting a choice iTunes playlist rather than digging the old vinyl collection out the back of the closet. And, despite his valid points on the importance of packaging and resolution, Kunkel seems to agree. “Maybe,” he concludes, citing the committed effort that goes into spinning a vinyl disc, “people hear more out of vinyl because it’s the only time they are really listening that closely.”

Whatever it takes, it would be nice to see a return to real reverence for good music – however you choose to define it. Indeed, “Tear down the wall(paper)!”

Time Is Right

The title of a new Feelies’ song (much on my mind since last Friday’s outstanding concert) seems an apropos entré to this brief shout out to Time magazine’s recent special issue highlighting “10 Ideas For the Next 10 Years.”

In 10 brief essays by leading thinkers, researchers and analysts (many from the New America Foundation), Time offers a fascinating overview of how America stands with one foot over the threshold of the new century, as well as some prognosis for the coming years. Overall, it’s a thought-provoking, remarkably optimistic and reasonably centrist (well, just left-0f-center, it is Time, after all) analysis of the United States’ evolving place in the world economically, politically, culturally and militarily. It holds a mirror to our recent history, and highlights key impulses already at play in our society or now percolating just beneath the surface.

The introductory essay, in particular, “The Next American Century,” by Andres Martinez, puts a surprisingly positive spin on our current national sense of society going to hell in a hand basket. It’s followed by thoughtful pieces on “Remapping the World” (bad borders and realistic means to minimize their ongoing detriment in light of current and future challenges), “Bandwidth Is the New Black Gold” (revealing how bandwidth issues will soon affect us all), “The Dropout Economy” (the future of work, education and social constructs in light of the growing libertarian impulse in America), as well as essays on U.S.-China relations, growing “white anxiety” in our increasingly diverse nation, and what it means to live in the “post-trust” era.

All worthwhile reads. Whether you go old school and pick up a copy at the newsstand or read them all online, spend 20 minutes with this Time.