An Evaluation of the Pitchfork Top 100 [Part 1]

I’m a music snob and I like lists, so it’s inevitable that I have to read Pitchfork, which could be renamed “Pretentious Indie Critics Guild.”  I recently decided to undertake a little listening experience of their top tracks of the decade (2000 to 2009).  Problem is, they picked 500 tracks, which is too many (read: I don’t give a damn about listening to all of those songs).  So I settled for the top 100.  Inevitably, I came up with a blogging exercise to accompany this endeavor (read: two birds, one stone).  I put the songs on a Grooveshark playlist and wrote down my thoughts in real time.  So typically I have 3 to 5 minutes per song to write down my thoughts.  Every once in a while I paused to finish a sentence, and occasionally I looked up lyrics on Google if I felt it was especially important.

Without further ado, Part I, which contains tracks number 100 down to number 76, in order.

100) Multiply by Jamie Lidell: Pretty soulful stuff from the guy.  The cowbell beating time adds a nice little touch of funkiness; combined with tropical guitars trickling in the background, there’s a real aura of island relaxation.  The pointy synthesizer and raspy vocals in the bridge give it a different sort of edge, creating a real sense of growing intensity before allowing the track to sink back into a floating piece of soulfulness.

99) Time to Pretend by MGMT: Who could forget the synth hook that begins this track?  Big beats, fuzzy sounds, keyboard strings and lyrics about cocaine and office jobs; in other words, all things MGMT.  But despite the brattiness and tendency to be perceived as indie-pretentious, there is some real humanity contained in the lyrics about missing loved ones.  Before we can get too distracted by any chance of authenticity, we are swept back into the land of that unforgettable synth hook.

98) Postcards from Italy by Beirut: The production on this track makes the repetitive instrumental tracks work in a way that sounds like a soundtrack to a film taking place in Europe (like, uh, Italy maybe?), minus any requisite cheesiness.  The chorus of horns sounds like something Sufjan would do, but it feels like less a statement of Sufjan esque grandeur and more a statement of sincerity.

97) I’m A Cuckoo (by the Avalanches) by Belle and Sebastian: Interestingly this track sort of feels like a quicker, busier version of the Beirut track mentioned above, in the sense that there is an almost world/folk/orchestral flavor to the track with a male pop voice gliding on top.  Perhaps this is indicative of the rise of the umbrella term “world music” in Western pop music.  Perhaps I just don’t know Belle and Sebastian very well.

96) Distortions by Clinic: My initial reaction is that this track isn’t much different than a vast number of lap-pop artists who sprung up over the decade.  The song places a premium on simplicity, with purposefully elementary drum machine programming and chord progressions on the keyboard.  It certainly contains more than a modicum of indie pop songwriting prowess (and the horn freakout at the end is a nice touch), but it feels like a less compelling version of The Postal Service, even if they did it first.

95) I’ll Believe in Anything by Wolf Parade: I just don’t know about the vocals and the homophonic drone in the background.  Is that actually bagpipe, or do I just feel like this track should have bagpipe?  If I subjected Clinic to an unflattering (and probably unfair, maybe cliched) comparison to The Postal Service, then I must subject Wolf Parade to the same type of comparison to Arcade Fire, who pull off the “big messy band with sloppy vocals” sound much more convincingly.

94) Hounds of Love by The Futureheads: The guitar and drum work feels like standard (though fun) material for an alternative or indie rock band.  But those tasty “Oh oh oh ohs” that line the track make it feel just fresh enough to stand out.

93) Hate It or Love It (feat. 50 Cent) by The Game: It’s got a solid groove, a big guest feature, and (most importantly) an underdog story; everyone loves an underdog story.  But I can’t help thinking that the song never rises or falls too much emotionally; musically and lyrically it feels flatlined.  Yes, we understand that ghetto life was tough and he overcame all the odds, but (forgive my callousness) how many times do we need to listen to rappers say that before we are no longer moved by it?

92) 3rd Planet by Modest Mouse: The first stanza of lyrics always gets me prepared for the rest of the album.  In fact, I can’t even listen to this song without considering the breathtaking experience it is to listen to The Moon and Antarctica as a whole.  There’s so many things going on; those outer space vocals, swelling guitars in the background, the random wandering melodies meandering throughout the song, those percussive rim clicks and tambourine jangles, and so on.  Yet there’s a feeling of such simplicity (or is it vulnerability?) in Isaac Brock’s songwriting, which ties all the material together, best characterized by his successfully reusing the song’s opening sequence as the epilogue of the track.

91) D.A.N.C.E. by Justice: Well it is aptly titled; it’s certainly the sort of song you want to hear on the dance-floor (read: the sort of song that your mom wants to hear on the dance-floor).  But by two and a half minutes in, I’m sort of tired of all those little kids.  They’re mostly just yelling and singing poorly.  However, it is catchy, and I would dance to it.  So you tell me who wins…

90) Weak Become Heroes by The Streets: Sensitive string pad; your good friend since the 1980s?  Or maybe your cliched, overly syrupy friend that you can only hang out with every couple of months.  I must admit, I’m not the biggest fan of spoken word stuff, unless something about it really grabs me (i.e. Gil Scott-Heron’s devilishly raspy voice).  But this feels like a British diamond or sports car commercial, where the spoken word stops eventually and the product just gets to work on its own.  Except the spoken word doesn’t really stop on this track, which is disappointing, because that would have been the more palatable choice.  One last complaint; don’t speak/sing/rap about the contents of the song itself; I know the “piano loop is repeating over and over,” you don’t need to tell me.

89) Such Great Heights by The Postal Service: After a brief duel with Grooveshark, I’ve managed to get Such Great Heights on the playlist.  My first question; how is this song not higher on the list?  Probably because Pitchfork wanted to avoid being too cliche.  But this is damn good example of inventive pop, and one that, for better or for worse, countless artists have cashed in on ever since.  While everyone seems to love Ben Gibbard’s vocals, people tend to forget that Dntel’s electronic backdrop for Ben is sparkling clean with a plethora of interesting sounds, some of them warm and familiar, some of them alien and effected, but all of them interesting and cohesive.

88) Letter From an Occupant by The New Pornographers: This is either the first lead female vocalist I’ve heard so far on the list, or it’s the first time I’ve realized there is a female vocalist.  If I made a mistake, I do beg your pardon.  I guess this got the nod for its reliance on that good ol’ rock n’ roll sound.  It’s got crunchy guitars, splashy drums, and catchy vocals.  However, (and forgive me if I’m repeating myself) I just don’t feel like it stands out from a horde of similar artists/songs.

87) Still Tippin’ (Ft. Slim Thug and Paul Wall) by Mike Jones: Definitely the best use of a string sample I’ve heard so far from the list.  There’s a quick trill in the bass region of the piano which makes a reoccurring appearance at the end of each phrase that adds some color; a little bit of it goes a long way.  The verses throughout the song feature far more interesting material (and more listenable production) than the chorus does.  One has to wonder why Mike Jones settled for such an overproduced drum track when his taste leans more organic for the other instruments/samples.

86) To Hell With Good Intentions by McClusky: Now that’s a distorted, dissonant piece of guitar work.  Kind of reminds me of my post-hardcore roots, but the vocals sound way more Bloc Party than At the Drive-In.  The raw energy comes through really clearly; it’s got the nastiness of hardcore and punk with a catchy pop hook (“Sing it!”) to tie things together.  Maybe my favorite rock song on the list so far.

85) Long Distance Call by Phoenix: I have a soft spot for the chord progression played on the synthesizer with blunted resonance at the beginning.  I think (maybe this is obvious) that the thing that makes Phoenix so listenable is that the vocals are so easily distinguishable while still retaining a high level of accessibility.  Phoenix in general is very accessible, while still retaining a sheen of individuality, which is a good place to be in as a band in day’s musical scene.

84) Young Folks (featuring Victoria Bergsman) by Peter Bjorn and John: The deadened drum fill is so PB&J.  And the guest spot from Ms. Bergsman is sweet and sultry and beautiful.  The song just has a great groove and melody and background texture (those bongos, the swell into the chorus).  And the whistling is maddeningly catchy.  Theoretically every song I listen to is better than the one before it, and all the ones before that (at least according to Pitchfork).  In my book, this song is better than all the songs before it (except “Such Great Heights” and maybe “3rd Planet”); good call Pitchfork.  And again, that whistling…

83) Where’s Your Head At? by Basement Jaxx: I just saw the album art to this cover, and it definitely involves an ostrich’s head.  Cool.  We’re just seconds in and I can already tell you I’m unlikely to be a fan of this song, simply because I’m not into the really metric, techno-processed aesthetic this track embodies.  Maybe if I liked clubbing and raves, I would be into this.  Maybe that just proves my ignorance to some of you.  Maybe this song is annoying as hell for the most part… and I still have a minute and a half to go.

82) Be Mine by Robyn: Critics love Robyn, which is sort of a mystery to me.  Not that I have anything against Robyn, but she is so well reviewed for a solo female pop artist.  If someone wants to write an essay on what makes Robyn superior to Kelly Clarkson, Britney Spears, Kylie Minogue, Lady Gaga, etc., feel free. I will read it.  Regardless, the song is catchy and easy to dance to, though I confess I haven’t actually tried.  Spoken word interlude?  See number 90 for more details.

81) Nothing Ever Happened by Deerhunter: We now have two critic/Pitchfork favorites in a row.  If someone wants to expand the aforementioned Robyn essay to include Deerhunter, I’m down.  It’s another case of me not necessarily disliking the artist, but not feeling as if they are at the top of the musical field, as they are portrayed.  This is a weird and highly specific (read: nitpicking) criticism, but I tend to not like the bright rhythm guitar sounds that Bradford Cox projects seem to have.  I don’t necessarily mean the parts themselves, but the production.  The vocals are cool and catchy, but kind of bizarre, which, again, seems to be a Bradford Cox thing.  If you are into the guitar sounds Deerhunter has, more power to you, but if you aren’t, I think we’re on the same page (although I must admit, I do really like the lead/solo part that plays from the 4 minute mark until the end, even if it does feel a bit repetitive after a while).

80) A Milli by Lil’ Wayne: The first lyric I understood was “I’m a venereal disease.”  Yuck.  The syncopated snare drum is so recycled poptrash specific to the hip-hop world.  And my initial feeling that the looped vocal sample as a rhythmic foundation was really fresh is starting to fade (it’s like when you keep saying the same word over and over again and it starts to not sound like a word).  The rap/hip-hop I tend to like is Kanye West, Jay-Z, and the Roots, all of who utilize a much richer sonic palette and melodic sense, rather than just drum machine samples and vocals (which is essentially what this track is).  I need more meat than this.

79) Izzo (H.O.V.A.) by Jay-Z: Speak of the devil.  I didn’t even know Jay-Z was coming, but he’s much appreciated.  The drums are chill, and the piano and strings make me want to bob my head and grin a bit.  Does Jay owe a lot to Michael Jackson on this one?  Probably, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t feel like a distinctly Jay-Z creation.  Regardless of what he’s actually saying, I always feel like Jay has something to important to say, and I think I can safely chalk that up to the conviction with which he spits his verses.  I will maintain that the one weakness the song has is a lack of a powerful singing performance from a guest artist.  Where was Beyonce on this one?

78) A Stroke of Genius by Freelance Hellraiser: Wait, what?  I had no idea this was a mash-up artist.  I was so confused about the first 30 seconds being solely The Strokes that I had to stop and consult the Pitchfork list to see what was going on.  The real question is why the hell didn’t I ever hear about this mash-up before?  It just makes sense in some odd way; New York garage rock oozing with I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude mixed with Christina Aguilera’s slick mainstream pop, (who embodies that same attitude in her own poppy way).  Both artists have always done their thing and somehow been massively successful anyway.  And there was the fellow (or lady) who managed to make the list just by coming up with the idea to put these two songs together.  Maybe they’re the real genius of the bunch.

77) Stay Fly by Three Six Mafia: I could copy and paste complaints from a number of the rap and techno/electronica artists on the list so far to highlight what I don’t like about this song, but I won’t.  And for some reason I can’t find a full version that will play on Grooveshark.  I guess I have to move on to the next track.  Darn.

76) Ready for the Floor by Hot Chip: The chopped up echo chamber of vocals that constitutes the song’s opening moments is certainly fresh, even if I’m not particularly a fan.  Same goes for those ringtone-esque bleeps that echo throughout the track.  The authentic (or at least authentic sounding) guitar that grooves throughout provides an unexpected but enjoyable texture in the background.  Part of me feels like the main vocalist sounds sort of like the singer from Phoenix.  Not sure if that counts as real critical commentary, but I’m just a blogger after all.

Musical Snobbery and Expanding Horizons

At some point in your musical listening habits you have to decide to be a music snob or not.  If you aren’t one, you are certainly friends with one.  And if you are one, you know that when you are with other known music snobs (or film snobs, television snobs, literature snobs, coffee snobs, etc.) your conversation will inevitably gravitate towards your mutual snobbery.  This can be vexing to those around you who aren’t snobs, which is made clear by the Urban Dictionary definitions of music snob.  (Example: in high school I used to have snobby music conversations with my snobby friends Max, Peter, and Joel whenever we were together.  Our non-music-snob friend Mason has repeatedly told us that we “always have the same conversation” whenever we are together.  Hey, sometimes my ranking of Radiohead’s albums changes.  What am I supposed to do, not talk about it?)

Despite the obvious problems (i.e. people think you are a douche bag, people refuse to let you see their iTunes library lest they by judged, etc.) that might occur with self-identifying as a music snob there are many potential benefits.  If you are a music snob in this day and age you likely spend a good amount of time scouring the internet for different bands/artists to listen to, celebrate, criticize, read about, dissect, rank, and so on.  Therefore, you are spending your time thinking critically about something.  You are developing ways to articulate your ideas and preferences to others.  And you are expanding your horizons, both musically and intellectually.

That last one is something your non-music-snob friends might doubt; if you dismiss their bad taste in music, aren’t you being close-minded to what they like?  Isn’t music snobbery the opposite of expanding your horizons?  The simple answer is no, it shouldn’t be.  Musical snobbery does involve strong opinions.  It does involve dismissing artists and musical movements sometimes.  But it shouldn’t involve close mindedness.  At least in the sense that the musical snob won’t even consider listening to something, or won’t even consider the merits of a particular artist because of preconceived notions.  After listening, considering, analyzing, and digesting, it is okay for to dismiss.  But dismissal without those steps (or at least some of those steps) is disrespectful to the artist in question, and yourself as a music snob.

If the music snob avoids close-mindedness and embraces the pursuit of expansion, he or she eventually begins to experience an augmented tree of musical interests (again, this can be applied to film, literature, etc.).  My own beginnings as a music snob began in high school, when I realized Christian radio rock wasn’t the most fulfilling artistic experience.  My older friends helped expand my horizons.  I was introduced to indie artists, like Franz Ferdinand, Elliott Smith and Modest Mouse; post-rock bands, like Sigur Ros and The Mercury Program; hardcore bands such as Thrice, Dillinger Escape Plan, and The Bled, and so on.  I tried not to get stuck in one rut (although hardcore was a huge part of my life from ages 14 to 17), but instead looked to keep expanding.

At this point in my life as a music snob I still like bands in the hardcore, post-rock, and (gargantuan) indie-rock genres, but I’ve continued to expand my listening palette.  Some of my favorite artists in the last year have been Kanye West, Brian Eno (particularly his ambient albums), and James Blake.  I can say confidently that just a few years ago, I wouldn’t have really been able to appreciate those artists; they simply wouldn’t have made much sense to me.  My current affection wasn’t borne out of random attempts to appreciate their music, but out of my expanding tree of listening and appreciation.  When I was 16 and realized many of the bands I liked kept naming Radiohead as an influence, I decided Radiohead must be worth checking out.  And once I checked them out and started to appreciate Kid A in particular, I grew to like electronica and effects oriented music.  That kept unfolding, and over time my palette reached a point where something heavily sampled and effected and synthesized (i.e. James Blake) was something I could not just appreciate, but listen to without feeling as if I was working hard.

The point of all this isn’t to describe what my musical tastes are now.  The point is to illustrate that being a musical snob can cause you to dismiss artists sometimes, but more importantly it can lead you to new things.  There is no set path of what you should or shouldn’t like next.  Yes, Radiohead was a major factor in allowing me to appreciate electronic artists like Portishead, James Blake, and Burial.  But there is no reason that it couldn’t have led me down a different, equally valid path.  It would still be a path of musical snobbery, because it would involve weighing the talents and merits of a variety of artists along that path, but it could very well lead to a different branch of the expanding musical tree.

Am I music snob?  Yes, without qualms I will self-identify as a snob.  But I hope that I am not the Urban Dictionary definition of a music snob.  Yes, I want to have opinions and “refined tastes,” but I hope that I never stay in a box of close mindedness, one that denies the expansion of my palette and a continuous journey through the ever expanding tree of music.  There’s too much I don’t know about that is worth discovering to deny that journey, that growth, that expansion.  And that mindset is a much more rewarding one than the one that refuses to consider such growth.

The O.C. and Poptrash

Last week my friend Andrew and I finished watching the first season of the teenage soap opera The O.C on DVD. Let me be clear about my stance on The O.C.; I love it, but I recognize in virtually every quantitative and qualitative way it is laughable at best, egregiously flawed at worst. I remember watching the very first episode or two with my older sister. At the time I was in junior high and it was way too inappropriate for me, so I stopped watching. (I was not homeschooled, but I was a little sheltered; my mom did not know I was listening to Green Day when I stayed at my dad’s on the weekend.)

I started watching again in the middle of season two, on our second TV in the living room. At home I acted under the guise that I was watching college basketball. I told girls at school I was watching, and that I was particularly interested in the highly attractive girls (read: women) on the show. In reality, I think I was more interested in investing in the characters. Which is a funny thing to say in retrospect, considering how elementary the characterization tends to be. But it makes a certain sort of sense; they were people, just a little older than me with no shortage of problems and extra-human beauty. And they always solved their problems. Sort of. They always had new ones to deal with, but they always took care of the old ones, and did it in such a sexy fashion. I ended up watching all of season two and most of season three when they aired, and now I’m back at it with Andrew.

The question I ask myself now is why do I actually enjoy this? It’s partly nostalgic, sure. And I will concede that even I am somewhat captivated by the sheer physical beauty of the actors from time to time. But beyond that, there is no great explanation. The characters are almost entirely one-dimensional, the dialogue is underwhelming to say the least (except between Seth and Sandy, which is somehow good even though it was written by the same writer), the acting is mostly terrible, and the story is maddening because most of the characters clearly make the most unrealistic decision in any given situation (leading to my theory that the Cohen family contains the only three somewhat realistic human beings on the entire show). So what is it? Why does a thinking, cultured, college man such as myself (I am so vain), enjoy a show like The O.C.?

Poptrash. It all comes down to Poptrash. That’s a term I’ve just invented, all by myself. (Although a quick Internet search tells me it’s also the name of Duran Duran album. For reals.) It refers to entertainment that is intended to be mindlessly consumed by hordes of people. But Poptrash still has it’s own precise, meticulous craft. And I’d like to make the case that it’s a valid craft, one that even a thinking person can respect in some fashion. That’s not to say that Poptrash is legitimately good art, because it can’t be, based on its name alone (Popular vs. artistic concerns, trash vs. treasure, etc. I’ll let you read between the lines), but it still has a place in the world of entertainment that is important to consider.

Poptrash is a term applicable to television, films, books, and music. Examples include The O.C., Michael Bay films, the Twilight series and Lady Gaga. There is also a Poptrash Gray Zone that includes the likes of Christopher Nolan films, James Cameron films, Kanye West, and the Hunger Games series. Things that are definitely not poptrash include Bjork, Martin Scorcese films, War and Peace, and Radiohead. Hopefully that gives you some sort of idea for the parameters of Poptrash.

But what is the actual appeal for someone like myself? Three factors:

1. Nostalgia: I mentioned this earlier with The O.C. Some of the records I loved when I was 14 I hate now (I’m looking at you Linkin Park and Christian hard rock). But some of them I still really like, and it’s mostly for nostalgic reasons (i.e. Incubus and Underoath). If you got into some Poptrash at a young age, which you almost inevitably did, then there’s a good chance some of it will still hold some appeal later on in life.
2. Irony: I laugh and laugh at the stupid dialogue and decisions characters make on The O.C. I know that no 16 year old kid really looks like that, and that he’s not hooking up with his ex-girlfriend’s mom, no matter how scarred she is by her recent divorce. But I meet the show on it’s own terms; instead of groaning and being angry at it’s unrealistic nature, I embrace the comedy it creates.
3. Cheap, Low Risk Rewards: Why do most people not make it through War and Peace, even though it’s the best book of all time (which my girlfriend tells me)? Besides the sheer time involved, it’s the uneasiness about how much effort is needed to get the reward that the book offers. Poptrash is easy to get through and you know that you will get an easily digestible ending, almost invariably. I recently read the first book in the Hunger Games series and was shocked at how fast I got through it; there is almost no effort required to slice through those pages, and I knew that the reward was coming at the end. There was little risk that I was going to be disappointed by the story’s outcome.

I think the most important thing you have to consider in appreciating Poptrash is included in the last sentence of factor number two; meeting a piece of work on its own terms. If you are willing to embrace the reality that they are serving to you and you are willing to accept it for what it is, then you have the capacity to enjoy it. If you consider yourself a music/film/literature snob, then you will initially be turned off by the merits (or lack their off) of most Poptrash. But even us snobs have to take some time off from things that make us think or challenge us or do things differently. Sometimes we have to give in to the excess and irony that is Poptrash. Sometimes we have to meet an artistically lacking piece of entertainment on its own territory and accept its simplicity for what it is; the ambition-lacking, but rewarding craft that is Poptrash.

Narrow Scope and Pseudo-Truths

Last summer right before Phil Selway (the drummer from Radiohead) released a solo record, I mentioned it to a few friends. Truth be told, I don’t even remember if I listened to the whole album, but I definitely heard at least one track. (I had to check my iTunes library to see what this track was even called; “By Some Miracle” which I am certain I downloaded for free from his website.) My friends asked what it sounded like, and I told them honestly: acoustic guitar central to the sound and it sounded a little folksy to me.

“Folksy.” I didn’t actually describe the song with that specific adjective, but that was the point I was trying to get across, or at least that was what they interpreted my description to mean. And one of them (my very passionate friend Nick) most definitely was immediately dismissive of the album’s potential, because, isn’t everyone doing folk (or neo-folk, as some have labeled it) now?

The more I thought about Nick’s dismissal of the album, the more qualms I started to have. It wasn’t that he was dismissing the album because he doesn’t like neo-folk bands, it’s that he was dismissing the album because his perception was lots of people are doing folk right now, so if Selway is doing it, he is jumping on the band wagon.

And really my point has nothing to do with Nick’s dismissal (my memory of the exact event is a bit hazy) or whether or not the album was folksy. It has to do with our perception of the trends that exist in music, film, TV, and artistic (and/or popular) culture in general. I find that me, my friends, bloggers, and so on make generalizations about trends all the time, and it occurs to me that our assessment might be flawed by our own narrow vision, and that our limited scope leads to a collection of psuedo-truths that we hold as individuals or as a community.

After hearing last year’s Arcade Fire album and the soon to be released Bon Iver album (particularly tracks “Calgary” and “Beth/Rest”) I made the statement that “the 80s are back.” Now, this might be true. (I think at least two of my friends agree with my assessment.) But the issue is, I made the assessment based on two bands that I listen to. Just two! Granted, Arcade Fire and Bon Iver represent two of the bigger bands in the indie scene today, but no matter how you slice it, they only have a small piece of the influence pie. And my generalization came from a small bit of knowledge.

I frequently read the 5-10-15-20 feature (artists give an album that they were listening to at different ages in five year increments) that Pitchfork runs, mostly because I find it really interesting to see how individuals’ musical taste developed, and how that might correspond with that artist’s own creative output. They had one of the guys from Mogwai give his list, and I was most fascinated by a statement he happened to make about The Strokes:

“Around that time, I was pretty perplexed about people getting excited about the Strokes, because it was only a couple years after everyone was laughing at Ocean Colour Scene for sounding like older bands. The Strokes are pretty much a carbon copy of a ton of old bands and, suddenly, everyone thinks it’s amazing. They had pretty catchy songs, but I didn’t think it was anything to get too excited about.”

I think this is an interesting bit of insight from the Mogwai guy, because it points to the hype machine as part of our problem in making generalizations, as well as in praising or dismissing the artistic notions of bands. People believed what The Strokes were doing was totally fresh, while acknowledging that they sounded like a number of other, earlier bands from the post-punk revolution. The internet and the radio and our friends all said it was great and original and fresh, so we all bought into it as a community, myself included. And then comes this comment that challenges our previous stance on the matter. Maybe there really was a band (or, far more likely, many bands) who were already doing the sort of thing The Strokes did. Maybe they didn’t do it as well as The Strokes, but hell, maybe they did.

The vast majority of us will never know for certain, because we are limited by our own scope. The 80s are back because of Arcade Fire and Bon Iver. Folk is back in because the Fleet Foxes did a couple of records and we know for damn sure that they listened to Crosby, Stills, and Nash (and probably Young) at some point. And The Strokes are just plain fresh. All of those statements are pseudo-truths. They are sort of true, because we as an audience of fans, critics, and conversationists deem it to be true. But they are simultaneously false because they are half-truths, unaware of the true range of artistry and influence that exists in the vast musical world today.

So make the statements, have the arguments, form the opinions. But don’t be fooled into thinking that one or two bands get to define things as a whole, even if those one or two bands are the most relevant ones. When we do that all we get is preemptive dismissals, accusations, and a set of simplistic pseudo-truths.