I love the Holidays. In addition to family, parties, gifts and time off, I love the year-end music lists. Their value lies in last-minute opportunities to discover some of the best albums of the year that I might have missed. And although I sample nearly a thousand albums a year, I always miss stuff. A good year-end list always helps me discover a few great ones. This year, that included Annie, The Go! Team, Utada, Dungen, Ada, Skinnyman, Wiley, Cut Copy, On! Air! Library!, The Legends, Entrance, M.I.A. & Diplo, Devin the Dude, Hercules, Mosquitos, The Comas, Faun Fables and many more. If you ever think back at the year and thought there was some great music, but you can't help but wish there was more, fear not. There's always more. You just have to find it, and the right critics to help. It's all in the holiday spirit, you know. All that work sifting through the pabulum of crappy promos to find the gems should not go wasted. They must share the love.
But there's always gotta be some party poopers. The grinches who sneer at the idea that lists are meaningful beyond a random sampling of subjective tastes. Some are too lazy to sort through everything they heard in the past year and put any thought into their order of preference. Or perhaps for others it's pure snobbery. They secretly believe that neophytes simply don't deserve to have treasures that they toiled to dig up from amongst the year's 30,000 releases handed to them on a silver platter.
For others it may be humility. They know they didn't listen to very many albums, and they're simply not qualified to come up with a decent top ten. In a way I applaud these people. At least they're honest. I would guess that at least a third of the 600+ critics who participate in the Village Voice Pazz & Jop Poll are newspaper writers who at some point were assigned music reviews, and they would dutifully review whatever promos are sent to them or the editor assigns them. They have little interest outside their job in actively seeking out better music. They are not driven, they have no real passion for it. In short, they're hacks. They should disqualify themselves, or at least the Voice should provide a disclaimer box, where they can check and write in, "I'm a hack." Or, "I have no real passion for music." "I only listened to eleven albums this year." "I don't believe in Top Tens, but my editor is making me submit this." Then readers could go to the site, click on a button to filter out the hacks, and suddenly where there was once was a boring top ten filled with Brian Wilson, Loretta Lynn, Kanye West and Franz Ferdinand, a more genuinely interesting list would emerge.
In this week's Chicago Reader, Liz Armstrong wrote, "I could've ranked them according to how often they ended up on my stereo, but that would've been ridiculous." You go Liz, lord that over your inferior, ridiculous colleagues. Monica Kendrick wrote, "It should go without saying that I didn't hear every good record made in 2004. I don't believe in Top Tens, and I don't have any faith in consensus-based canons -- 'conventional wisdom' is an oxymoron, like 'free market...' Disclaimers dispensed with, here are ten records I enjoyed a lot in 2004 and managed to find again in my office on deadline, in alphabetical order." Gee Monica, you're too kind. You needn't have gone through the trouble of organizing them alphabetically, really. You make us feel so special, tossing out whatever you found laying around the office. I'm especially disappointed in Monica because she is no hack. She's a great writer who does have a real passion for music. Which is why I feel cheated that she didn't put more effort and thought into her recommendations.
Seriously people, even if it's just a job, and you'd rather be writing a novel or finishing grad school, shouldn't you take your job seriously? As a paid professional critic, you're obliged to use your supposed writing skills and knowledge to make recommendations. So listen to the goddamn albums already, and pick your favorites. It won't kill you. Or maybe it might. Pretend someone is holding a gun to your head, forcing you to pick a favorite. I know, I know, your moods are oh so complex and varied, and you can't pick just one. *click* So average it out and take a stab at which one satisfied more moods than others. I know you can do it, your life depends on it. There, that wasn't so hard, was it? Stop crying now, we have to repeat this exercise nine more times. Aren't you glad this isn't a top 50 list?
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