[This is the first in a short series of blog entries dealing with the miserable state of modern musical criticism. It is just about impossible to trust the judgment of any modern music critic. This series will attempt to outline an explanation for that dearth of analytic talent.]
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Do you devote yourself to memorizing your favorite albums’ production credits and liner notes? Do you hold Jack Black's character in High Fidelity as one of your primary role models?
Do you believe that meticulous dissection of minutia is the true path to art appreciation? If you answered "yes" to any of these questions, you are well on your way to becoming a full-fledged music snob. As with any worthwhile endeavor, though, professional-grade snobbery doesn’t come cheaply. Looking down one’s nose at others is easy enough, but true contempt for your musical inferiors takes some training. To that end, we’ve spotlighted five fields of knowledge that should be in any aspiring know-it-all’s repertoire.
Real Song Titles
You die a little inside every time someone refers to The Who’s "Teenage Wasteland," or worse yet, "the C.S.I. New York theme song." The name of the song is "Baba O’Riley," dammit, and there is no excuse for not referring to it as such. Sure, you could make the argument that if artists want people to get the title right, they should make it have something to do with the actual lyrics, but that would be far too easy on the fair-weather fans. The true snob should also be well acquainted with parenthetical titles and creative spellings. You get pretension points every time you remind someone that James Brown’s biggest hit was actually called "I Got You (I Feel Good)," and you score even higher by setting the record straight on Sly & The Family Stone’s "Thank You (Falletinme Be Mice Elf Agin)."
Sample phrase: "David Bowie was just starting to come into his own with ‘Space Oddity.’ (Pause for blank stare) Oh, that’s right – you probably know it as ‘Ground Control to Major Tom.’"
Side Projects and Solo Albums
Some artists just aren’t satisfied limiting themselves to one creative endeavor at a time, and neither should you be. You owe it to yourself to scarf up your heroes’ every solo album, side project and artistic indulgence. Sure, you probably won’t listen to that Jello Biafra spoken word album beginning to end more than once, but it gives you that much more ammunition against punk rock posers. Even the most sedentary Lou Reed fan needs to be up on the former Rock & Roll Animal’s album of instrumentals for tai chi exercises. And can you really call yourself a Guns N’ Roses devotee if you don’t own the entire catalogs of both Slash’s Snake Pit and Izzy Stradlin and the Ju Ju Hounds?
Sample phrase: "Seriously, I’d put Fred Schneider’s second solo album up against any late-period B-52s."
Alternate Takes and Deep Cuts
When you listen to a studio album, it’s a safe assumption that at least some of the creative forces involved felt that these were the best available recordings of the best available material. But you know better – the best songs shine brightest when filtered through the metallic hiss of a decades-old demo tape, and the depth of a band is best gauged by the strength of toss-off tunes buried on long-forgotten movie soundtrack albums. When your less adroit pals ask for your favorite Bowie song, hit ‘em with the alternate take of "Panic in Detroit" from the ‘92 Rykodisc reissue of Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps). When they ask about the crowning achievement of the Wu-Tang Clan, the correct answer is either "America is Dying Slowly" from the eponymous all-star benefit album or "Wu Wear: The Garment Revolution" from the High School High soundtrack.
Sample phrase: "Sure, I love Pavement’s studio recordings, but there’s just something so much more raw and immediate about the demo cut of "Best Friend’s Arm.’"
Personnel Changes
Rare is the long-lived band that doesn’t go through at least a few lineup changes. So long as the switch-ups don’t affect the group’s sound too radically (like the post-Morrison Doors, say, or the Shane MacGowan-less Pogues), most fans are happy to accept these unavoidable growing pains. You, on the other hand, know what you like and will accept no substitutes. There are two paths you can go by here. You can insist that a band never recovered from one member’s departure – refusing to buy any R.E.M. albums that don’t feature Bill Berry, for instance – or you can make the case that a later addition gave the group a new lease on life – say, claiming Built to Spill never really clicked for you until Jim Roth became a permanent guitarist. Really, either route provides optimum opportunity for condescending sighs.
Sample phrase: "I know the early Victor DeLorenzo stuff is more commercial, but for me the Violent Femmes really came into their own during the Guy Hoffman era."
Producers
When it comes to crafting a great album, the producer has probably the most vital job that 98% of listeners know and care nothing about. Except in extreme cases, like Phil Spector saccharine-coating The Beatles’ Let it Be, most music fans can’t tell one producer’s work from another’s (hip-hop albums are a notable exception). Start out simple by memorizing some key celebrity producer credits – Ray Manzarek on X’s Los Angeles, Manu Chao on Amadou & Mariam’s Diamanche a Bamako, Prince on half the albums that came out of Minneapolis in the 1980s – and move on to the more obscure. When you’re able to hold forth on the merits of Brian Beattie versus Ted Nicely as The Dead Milkmen’s greatest producer, you’ll know you’ve arrived.
Sample phrase: "Don’t even talk to me about Fun House. Without John Cale at the controls, The Stooges were barely listenable."
http://www.madeloud.com/articles/diy/become-music-snob-five-easy-steps
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Become a Music Snob in Five Easy Steps!
By ira_brooker in Made Loud on Jun 24, 2009Do you devote yourself to memorizing your favorite albums’ production credits and liner notes? Do you hold Jack Black's character in High Fidelity as one of your primary role models?
Do you believe that meticulous dissection of minutia is the true path to art appreciation? If you answered "yes" to any of these questions, you are well on your way to becoming a full-fledged music snob. As with any worthwhile endeavor, though, professional-grade snobbery doesn’t come cheaply. Looking down one’s nose at others is easy enough, but true contempt for your musical inferiors takes some training. To that end, we’ve spotlighted five fields of knowledge that should be in any aspiring know-it-all’s repertoire.
Real Song Titles
You die a little inside every time someone refers to The Who’s "Teenage Wasteland," or worse yet, "the C.S.I. New York theme song." The name of the song is "Baba O’Riley," dammit, and there is no excuse for not referring to it as such. Sure, you could make the argument that if artists want people to get the title right, they should make it have something to do with the actual lyrics, but that would be far too easy on the fair-weather fans. The true snob should also be well acquainted with parenthetical titles and creative spellings. You get pretension points every time you remind someone that James Brown’s biggest hit was actually called "I Got You (I Feel Good)," and you score even higher by setting the record straight on Sly & The Family Stone’s "Thank You (Falletinme Be Mice Elf Agin)."
Sample phrase: "David Bowie was just starting to come into his own with ‘Space Oddity.’ (Pause for blank stare) Oh, that’s right – you probably know it as ‘Ground Control to Major Tom.’"
Side Projects and Solo Albums
Some artists just aren’t satisfied limiting themselves to one creative endeavor at a time, and neither should you be. You owe it to yourself to scarf up your heroes’ every solo album, side project and artistic indulgence. Sure, you probably won’t listen to that Jello Biafra spoken word album beginning to end more than once, but it gives you that much more ammunition against punk rock posers. Even the most sedentary Lou Reed fan needs to be up on the former Rock & Roll Animal’s album of instrumentals for tai chi exercises. And can you really call yourself a Guns N’ Roses devotee if you don’t own the entire catalogs of both Slash’s Snake Pit and Izzy Stradlin and the Ju Ju Hounds?
Sample phrase: "Seriously, I’d put Fred Schneider’s second solo album up against any late-period B-52s."
Alternate Takes and Deep Cuts
When you listen to a studio album, it’s a safe assumption that at least some of the creative forces involved felt that these were the best available recordings of the best available material. But you know better – the best songs shine brightest when filtered through the metallic hiss of a decades-old demo tape, and the depth of a band is best gauged by the strength of toss-off tunes buried on long-forgotten movie soundtrack albums. When your less adroit pals ask for your favorite Bowie song, hit ‘em with the alternate take of "Panic in Detroit" from the ‘92 Rykodisc reissue of Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps). When they ask about the crowning achievement of the Wu-Tang Clan, the correct answer is either "America is Dying Slowly" from the eponymous all-star benefit album or "Wu Wear: The Garment Revolution" from the High School High soundtrack.
Sample phrase: "Sure, I love Pavement’s studio recordings, but there’s just something so much more raw and immediate about the demo cut of "Best Friend’s Arm.’"
Personnel Changes
Rare is the long-lived band that doesn’t go through at least a few lineup changes. So long as the switch-ups don’t affect the group’s sound too radically (like the post-Morrison Doors, say, or the Shane MacGowan-less Pogues), most fans are happy to accept these unavoidable growing pains. You, on the other hand, know what you like and will accept no substitutes. There are two paths you can go by here. You can insist that a band never recovered from one member’s departure – refusing to buy any R.E.M. albums that don’t feature Bill Berry, for instance – or you can make the case that a later addition gave the group a new lease on life – say, claiming Built to Spill never really clicked for you until Jim Roth became a permanent guitarist. Really, either route provides optimum opportunity for condescending sighs.
Sample phrase: "I know the early Victor DeLorenzo stuff is more commercial, but for me the Violent Femmes really came into their own during the Guy Hoffman era."
Producers
When it comes to crafting a great album, the producer has probably the most vital job that 98% of listeners know and care nothing about. Except in extreme cases, like Phil Spector saccharine-coating The Beatles’ Let it Be, most music fans can’t tell one producer’s work from another’s (hip-hop albums are a notable exception). Start out simple by memorizing some key celebrity producer credits – Ray Manzarek on X’s Los Angeles, Manu Chao on Amadou & Mariam’s Diamanche a Bamako, Prince on half the albums that came out of Minneapolis in the 1980s – and move on to the more obscure. When you’re able to hold forth on the merits of Brian Beattie versus Ted Nicely as The Dead Milkmen’s greatest producer, you’ll know you’ve arrived.
Sample phrase: "Don’t even talk to me about Fun House. Without John Cale at the controls, The Stooges were barely listenable."
http://www.madeloud.com/articles/diy/become-music-snob-five-easy-steps
This is hilarious. I know these people.
ReplyDeleteI'm a wee bit late, but thanks for sharing this!
ReplyDelete