The Great Event of 1928

Sometimes you have to be glad that Everett True exists

Mainly because he is absolutely right about Pitchfork (in reference to their review of Pens):

“What fucking year is this? 1975, and we’re all studiously examing Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here for hidden messages? 1997, and we all can’t believe how clever and collegiate-smart and important Radiohead are? 2008, and we all fucking love Animal Collective because they’ve got beards and they’re serious and they’ve managed to rip off Beach Boys completely while stripping them of their most precious asset (the tunes)?”

You should really read the whole thing, despite the fact that we’re going to quote more:

“THEY CAN’T PLAY. Pathetic, fucking pathetic. Music critics who go around spouting the same tired cliches of five decades should NOT BE ALLOWED to fucking type their words, but write them out painfully in longhand using the blood from countless generations of musicians held back by similar critics’ use of same. Dickhead. Fucking dickhead. Bet he despises Riot Grrrl (and punk, and gospel, and 60s pop, and late 80s grunge, and garage rock) (etc).”

He expands on this in his Vivian Girls (wonderful band, and great new record) review, which we will quote and then go. Read them all, though.

“Define ‘play’. Go on. Dare you. And while you’re at it, why not define ‘art’, ‘criticism’, ‘good’, ‘bad’ and all those other dividing lines for us doorbells out here? Incidentally, if you’re going to start insisting on harmonies being in tune, not only are you discounting most of the classic gospel cuts and early rock’n’roll AND ’60s pop AND ’70s punk AND ’80s pop AND ’90s grunge (et al) but also…I’d like to know which scale you’re using to define tunefulness with.”

Again, thank you Everett. You may have even done it better than I could’ve. (But probably not.)