Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables [I.R.S., 1980]
I do want there to be more punk rock--I do, I do. I do want there to be more left-wing new wave--really. By Americans--I swear it. But not by a would-be out-of-work actor with Tiny Tim vibrato who spent the first half of the '70s concocting "rock cabaret." Admittedly, I'm guessing, but I'm also being kind--it sounds like Jello Biafra discovered the Stooges in 1977. C+
he's awful
how is this good writing
not trying to bait
nu-males love snark
I honestly don't know how can anyone take this guy seriously. He's incredibly full of shit and has absolutely abysmal taste.
he has several unique styles and is often very much to the point
This has to be his best this century:
Turn On the Bright Lights [Matador, 2002]
They bitch because everybody compares them to Joy Division, and they're right. It's way too kind, and I say that as someone who thanks Ian Curtis for making New Order possible. Joy Division struggled against depression rather than flaunting it, much less wearing it like a designer suit. What's truly depressing is that, just as the hairy behemoths of the grunge generation looked back to the AOR metal they immersed in as teens, these fops tweak the nostalgia of young adults who cherish indistinct memories of much worse bands than Joy Division, every one of them English--Bauhaus, Ultravox, Visage, Spandau Ballet, Tears for Fears. At a critical moment in consciousness they exemplify and counsel disengagement, self-seeking, a luxurious cynicism. Says certified British subject Peter Banks: "Emotions are standard and boring. I'd like to find another way to live." That's thinking either big or very small. C+
Stick It to Ya [Chrysalis, 1990]
Schlockier than Tesla, stupider than Queensryche, simpier than Extreme, these sluts win the Consumer Guide Lead Dildo for the most godawful new metal band to go platinum since the last time I checked. They're not even overly offensive--Mark Slaughter slaughters no one, and despite the bimbo-with-knives cover limits the misogyny to one gold digger and one sex predator. She's got "notches in her belt," and by then I was so bored I was aggrieved to learn it wasn't "nachos in her bed." D
Brain Salad Surgery [Manticore, 1973]
Is this supposed to be a rebound because Pete Sinfield wrote the lyrics? Because Certified Classical Composer Alberto Ginastera--who gets royalties, after all--attests to their sensitivity on the jacket? Because the sound is so crystalline you can hear the gism as it drips off the microphone? C-
>as someone who thanks Ian Curtis for making New Order possible
Is he /ourguy/?
The funniest thing about this review is that he mixed up Jello Biafra with Tomata LaPlenty, the gay singer of an obscure SF organ-driven punk band called The Screamers, which was sorta shit.
people only like him because he was a typical cancerous Sup Forumstant before Sup Forums was even a thing
do you think he's ever fantasized about fucking PJ Harvey and jacked off to it?
Jello was born in 1958. He couldn't possibly have been creating rock cabaret in the early 70s when he was like 13-14 years old.
Most likely a sloppy mistake Christgau made since much of his time during 1980 was spent writing "Consumer Guide to the '70s" and he claims he didn't listen to a lot of music that year and just binge-listened to stuff late in the year to catch up.
This guy is a hell of a lot more entertaining than fantano or scaruffi
This
No one should be listening to reviewers to actually inform their opinions anyway
Stephen Stills [Atlantic, 1970]
Steve Stills has always projected an effortless swing, and his tradeoffs with Eric Clapton on "Go Back Home" are classic. There's only one thing that remains undefined--oh wait, it's the songs. C+
Stephen Stills 2 [Atlantic, 1971]
Steve Stills has always come on as the ultimate rich hippie--arrogant, self-pitying, shallow, sexist. Fortunately, he's never quite achieved his true level, but flashes of brilliancy remain--the single, "Marianne", is very nice, especially if you don't listen too hard to the lyrics, but there's more to the order of an all-male chorus with jazz horns singing straightly and in perfect unison the chorus "It's disgusting" over and over. Keep it up SS, it'll be a pleasure watching you fail. C
Manassas [Atlantic, 1972]
Yes, Steve has gotten it together a little, even deigning to cooperate with real musicians in a real band, and yes, some of this four-sided set echoes in your head after you play it a lot. The only problem is you're never sure where the echoes come from. C+
Stills [Columbia, 1975]
In which Stills recycles his "favorite set of changes/good for a couple of songs". His supporters will find that endearing, I know. They may even dig him copping a lick from Alice Cooper later in the lyric. But me, I find it pathetic. C-
Caught in the Act [Motown, 1975]
Good hard funk opens the album--two major singles, "Slippery When Wet" and "The Bump" surrounded by "I'm Ready" and "Wide Open", which earns its reprise. The rest of the album is spent showing off their soul--frankly, I'd prefer they didn't. B
Greatest Hits [Motown, 1978]
One thing you can say about a funk band who scores a hit as sappy as "Three Times a Lady"--they ain't as funky as they used to be. Or maybe they never really were a funk band to begin with, instead merely skilled professionals who understood funk's entertainment value the way John Denver understood folk's. I love "Machine Gun", "Brick House", and "Slippery When Wet", but they're not even on the same side of this depressing compilation, half of which is devoted to Lionel Richie and his mealy mouth. C+
We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions [Columbia, 2006]
We shall overkill, he means. Never have his Howard Keel tendencies, or maybe now they're Paul Robeson tendencies, tripped him up so bad. The idea is to big up the music and play the jokes you don't ignore like you're working a Roman amphitheater. I'm glad to have met the anti-war lament "Mrs. McGrath" and Sis Cunningham's "My Oklahoma Home," and sort of hope young people deprived of music appreciation funding will now hear "Erie Canal," "Froggie Went A-Courtin'," "John Henry," and "Jesse James." Only are young people really ignorant of these songs? And how many of them buy Springsteen albums anyway? Amping up his strange bluegrass-Dixieland hybrid like E Street is just around the corner, he sings his lungs out. But in folk music, lightness is all--and only newbies and John Hammond Jr. lean so hard on the cornpone drawl. B
Agreed. A reviewer can let you know that something new is out, can tell you if it is new material or a compilation, studio or live, and warn you if the sound quality is shit or if it is brickwalled, but that's all the info the reader needs. Personal opinion is almost meaningless.
In the Court of the Crimson King [Atlantic, 1969]
The plus is because Peter Townshend likes it. This can also be said of The Crazy World of Arthur Brown. Beware the forthcoming hype--this is ersatz shit. D+
more like the girls of sleater kinney
Black Sabbath [Warner Bros., 1970]
The worst of the counterculture on a plastic platter--bullshit necromancy, drug-impaired reaction time, long solos, everything. They claim to oppose war, but if I don't believe in loving my enemies I don't believe in loving my allies either, and I've been worried something like this was going to happen since the first time I saw a numerology column in an underground newspaper. C-
Paranoid [Warner Bros., 1970]
They do take heavy to undreamt-of extremes, and I suppose I could enjoy them as camp, like a horror movie--the title cut is definitely screamworthy. After all, their audience can't take that Lucifer bit seriously, right? Well, depends on what you mean by serious. Personally, I've always suspected that horror movies catharsized stuff I was too rational to care about in the first place. C-
Master of Reality [Warner Bros., 1971]
As an increasingly regretful spearhead of the great Grand Funk switch, in which critics redefined GFR as a 1971 good old-fashioned rock and roll band even though I've never met a critic (myself included) who actually played the records, I feel entitled to put this in its place. Grand Funk is like an American white blues band of three years ago--dull. Black Sabbath is English--dull and decadent. I don't care how many rebels and incipient groovies are buying. I don't even care if the band members believe in their own Christian/satanist/liberal murk. This is a dim-witted, amoral exploitation. C-
Basically.
He's good for snarky one liners and that's that. Not even *that* good.
Souljaboytellem.com [ColliPark Music/Interscope, 2007]
Boy do the haters get busy on this 16-year-old. But scrutinize the "superman" matter (look it up) and you'll see that even if he thought he was sneaking something outlandishly filthy onto a pop record, his fans thought he was inventing a dance that involved flying, thus furthering the presumption of innocence so crucial to his cute. Unlike his crunk forebears, he's not into pimping or dealing or even strip clubs--"Booty Meat" is as explicit as his carnality gets, and not only is he looking not touching, he's hoping an amateur will "turn around just like a pro." He's still boy enough to worry about those F's, and the most winning of his many winning songs was written to, and on, his Sidekick 3. There are enough sonic strokes here to keep the wrong bizzer in ringtone rappers for a year. But Soulja Boy's spiritual secret is that with less subcultural support than, say, Be Your Own Pet, he's reached the top of his world on a few tips from ex-partner Young Kwon and the loyalty of human sidekick Arab. You can hear how tickled he is about it. A-
i fuck with xgau
lmao these are both good
This Was [Island, 1969]
Ringmaster Ian Anderson has come up with a unique concept that combines the worst of Arthur Brown, Roland Kirk, and your nearest G.O. blues band. I find his success very depressing. C-
Stand Up [Island, 1969]
Fans of the group claim it's a great album. I am not a fan of the group. I think it is an adequate album. B-
Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band: Trout Mask Replica [Straight, 1969]
I find it impossible to give this record an A because it is just too weird. But I'd like to. Very great played at high volume when you're feeling shitty, because you'll never feel as shitty as this record. B+
Backless [RSO, 1979]
Whatever Clapton isn't anymore--guitar genius, secret humanitarian, God--he remains king of the Tulsa sound and here he contributes three new sleepytime classics. All are listed on the front sticker and none were written by Bob Dylan. One more and this would be creditable. B-
Just One Night [RSO, 1980]
Who needs another live double? A master guitarist whose studio albums have been accused by Sominex of unfair trade practices, that's who. All your AM and FM faves served up hot, cold, or both. A-
Behind The Sun [Duck, 1985]
Eric Clapton and Phil Collins are two individuals who can count themselves as survivors (Collins and how). Clapton was never the mediocre vocalist he's been wont to declare himself in retiring moments, but his vocal gift only made sense when laid-back was commercial, and here, he's not retiring, he's looking for work. For a variety of reasons, including popular fashion, Phil Collins mixes the drums very high and then induces Clapton to, um, project. Painful. And bad. C-
The Stranger [Columbia, 1977]
Having concealed his ego in metaphor as a young songpoet, Joel achieved success when he uncloseted the spoiled brat behind those bulging eyes. Here, the brat appears only once, in the nominal guise of the stranger. The rest of Billy has more-or-less grown up. He's now about as likable as your once rebellious and still tolerant uncle who has the quirk of believing that OPEC is a plot to ruin his air conditioning business. B-
just awful, awful writing
Henry's Dream [Mute, 1992]
Nick Cave's admirers crow about his virtues--a rock musician who's scripted a movie and written a novel (!). If your idea of literary genius consists of lines such as "I am the captain of my pain" and a scene where Cave describes a whalebone corset hanging in a bordello (whalebone is very literary, you see--it hasn't been used in underwear since well before Nick was born), then you may be ripe for his cult. Otherwise forget it--the voice alone won't do the trick. C-
Lou Reed Live: Take No Prisoners [Arista, 1978]
Partially because your humble servant is attacked by name on what is essentially a comedy record, some of my colleagues have rushed in with Don Rickles analogies, but that's not fair. Lenny Bruce is the real comparison. Thing is, I don't even play my comedy records, including my real Lenny Bruce ones, as much as I play "Rock and Roll Animal". There's several Lou Reed concerts I'd love to check out again, such as Palladium 11/5/77 and Bottom Line 5/11/78, but this isn't it, I'm sorry. And I thank Lou for pronouncing my name right. C+
Street Hassle [Arista, 1978]
I know Lou worked his ass off on this one, but he worked his ass off on Berlin too--like so many of his contemporaries, maybe he's better off not aiming for masterpieces. The title sequence honors Eros as much as Thanatos, a heartening development, and I'm a belated convert to "I Wanna Be Black", which treats racism as a stupid joke and gets away with it. But the production is muddled and the self-consciousness self-serving. B-
yikes
Bad Moon Rising [Homestead, 1985]
They're sure to disagree--what else are they good for?--but despite all their apocalyptic integrity and unmediated whoziwhatsis, the achievement of their first halfway decent record is strictly formal: simple, rhythmic songs that neither disappear beneath nor get the better of the clanging and grinding of their brutal late-industrial guitars. Whatever credibility the guitars lend to their no doubt painful but nonetheless hackneyed manic depression is undermined by their usual sociopathic fantasies, and in the end the music isn't ugly or ominous or bombs bursting midair. It's just interesting. B
Death Valley '69 [Homestead EP, 1985]
Lydia Lunch feature from current LP b/w best-of sorta from their three previous releases--all of them, as is noted once you've paid yer money and zipped yer shrink-wrap, still available in the kind of shoppes that stock such arcana--plus pieceashit outtake from current LP. Suck their dicks or pussy as the case may be. D
Kool & The Gang--Subjects For Further Research [1970s]: Amelodic hitmakers, jazzbos who couldn't improvise, these primal funksters were too funking primal for me in the early '70s, their artistic heyday. Looking back at their various best-of collections, I can see now that it was arcane rhythms and silly novelty hooks that got them onto (black) radio. Although I like individual cuts, in particular "Hollywood Swinging" and "Jungle Boogie", the dance floor is obviously the best place to figure such music out, and I doubt I'll make sense of it unless a DJ sweeps me off my feet.
Celebrate [De-Lite, 1980]
It says something for these funk pioneers that unlike James Brown, George Clinton, and the Ohio Players they've adapted painlessly, nay profitably, to disco: a number-one single leads their Deodato-produced album into the top ten. What it says is that their funk was as bland as you suspected. Even the number-one single is disco as transformed not by funksters (cf. "(not just) Knee Deep" or even "The Original Disco Man") but by bizzers (cf. "Fame" or even "Guilty")--disco without a cult, which means without a loyal audience either. C-
Emergency [De-Lite, 1985]
If in 1973, you had told me that a ghettoized funk group would become the #1 selling R&B act of the '80s, my head would have swelled until someone interjected that the '70s group with the most #1 hits was the Osmonds. If someone had also told me that the secret to their success would be a bland black singer named James Taylor, I would have observed that he couldn't possibly be any worse than our white one. In both of those, I would be wrong. C+
Right Now! [Caroline, 1987]
All these postdadaists want is to provide the forbidden visceral thrill of rock and roll at the moment they snatch it away as an impossible fake--to be the-thing and not-the-thing simultaneously. How much more could they ask of life? They have fair success, too, commanding an impressive palette of horrible noises and effectuating a pretty good beat for art-rock. But what you remember in the end is the snatch; you're left to mull over a concept that will thrill only those whose lived experience verifies it. Me, I don't find Route 66 has run out of kicks quite yet. B
I know I have
Maybe Bonnie Raitt.
These reviews make more sense if you know anything about the beef between Christgau and SY.
>faithless
what did he mean by this?
Robert Christgau more like Footfag Christcuck lmao
lol
You'd probably fail a college-level english class if you think that
Translation: They scare me
I feel bad for you
Also see this column about Alice Cooper.
"He has all these gore/S&M thingies as part of his stage act hold me mommy..."
How much of a pussy/cuck can you be?
I don't think about you at all
>How much of a pussy/cuck can you be?
He's clearly calling them out for their braindead edginess and "muh shock factor" that isn't shocking to anyone over the age of 12.
How much of a pussy/cuck can you be?
That's not what he was saying though, he was saying he doesn't understand what's going on, and he's unnerved because this isn't what rock-and-roll should be (since he only likes cheerful poptimist music).
I mean, yeah. Guys like Alice Cooper and Black Sabbath were pretty shocking coming on the heels of sunny '60s optimism.
this dumb faggot gave a brad paisley record an A
Which goes to show you how full of dook that Christgau is. The New York Dolls ripped off Alice Cooper in a big way, they did almost the same exact schtick, but because they sang about mmmuh shithole city, they became the greatest band in history.
Kid A [Capitol, 2000]
I guess the fools who ceded these bummed-out Brits U2's world's-greatest-rock-band slot actually did care about what bigger fool Thom Yorke had to say as well as how he made it sound. Why else the controversy over this bag of sonics? Me, I'm so relieved Yorke's doing without lyrics. Presaging too damn much but no more a death knell for song than OK Computer was for organic life, this is an imaginative, imitative variation on a pop staple: sadness made pretty. Alienated masterpiece nothing--it's dinner music. More claret? A-
He didn't love every New York band. For example, he had nothing to say about Twisted Sister except a two sentence insult, even though their pre-MTV albums were really brutal, fast, slashing rock for that time. He also didn't like White Zombie although their debut album was widely praised by a lot of people including Iggy Pop.
I don't think he ever reviewed a Boss Hog album either.
everybody in new york liked the new york dolls, except lou 'everybody is ripping me off' reed
Twisted Sister identified as a metal band and they did Black Sabbath and whatnot covers before they had original material, so it's no surprise he didn't like them. I don't know why he didn't like Boss Hog, but they probably insulted him at some point and he blacklisted them from his Consumer Guide ala the Swans (note that after Michael Gira mailed him a bag of jizz, he never reviewed any Swans albums again).
>it's dinner music. More claret?
i swear to god, he could've said this about any record. i don't particularly give a shit about kid a. but this combination of words is so infuriating to read, i want to punch this fucking cunt into a wet mess.
>shocking
for the younger generation, sure. christgau's generation considered metal to be juvenile and cliched.
it's a masterful punchline
I like this piece, largely because I agree with it. Does he become less insufferable to others that way?
>Richard D. James Album [Elektra, 1996]
>Jungle sure has livelied up this prematurely ambient postdance snoozemeister. His latest synth tunes are infested with hypertime electrobeats that compel the tunes themselves to get a move on. And where once he settled for austere classical aura, now he cuts big whiffs of 19th-century cheese. He even sings. Hey, fella--I hear Martha Wash needs work. B+
A lot of New York artists got into feuds with Christgau because he was the leading music critic in the Big Apple during the 70s-80s and used his position as a bully pulpit to make or break bands. As Thurston Moore said, he almost singlehandedly decided who did and didn't get exposed in New York, and lots of people resented him for that.
Which just goes to show you how great it is to live in the Internet age where artists don't need to rely on some snotnose at a magazine to control their exposure.
>masterful
to who, exactly? people who know what claret is (so, everybody)? do you wax poetic about how well different records pair with cooking dinner and drinking wine?
Whut. In 1972, Black Sabbath were super-heavy, edgy, and scary stuff. Rock stars had a lot more mystery surrounding them in the pre-Internet age, and people genuinely believed claims that bands practiced the occult or had subliminal Satanic messages in their albums or things like that.
Gira is a dick. I mean, come on. Christgau gave Filth a quite positive review. Sending him a bag of cum over a B+ grade was a little unnecessary.
...
Some artists have a really difficult time comprehending criticism period.
they were scary to middle class parents afraid of satanic symbolism and their kids looking for it. i don't think christgau was especially afraid of them, he just thought they were plodding boogie rock retreads.
it's remarkable how criticism still has the power to get under people's skin in a way that art no longer does.
Some music journalist who was mentored by him said he witnessed the bag of jizz incident. He said Christgau was nonplussed at it. "If you think I'm intimidated by this, I am so not" or some gesture like that and just placed the cum bag in a file cabinet in the basement of the Village Voice offices.
Regardless of how chill he took Gira's "present", he sure must have been disturbed by it given the absence of Swans reviews thereafter.
If it helps, years later, when the PMRC were a thing, Christgau said that even as a non-fan of metal, he found their war against the stuff totally over-the-top and ridiculous.
Any person with a working brain thought it ridiculous.
He did kind of agree with their protests against rock degrading women (glam metal bands took this to the max) but that's more because he's a nu male.
This sort of thing basically stopped in the 90s, nowadays only rappers are allowed to objectify women.
congrats. you're still a fat failfuck who thinks christgau is an interesting writer
>If you think I'm intimidated by this, I am so not
i can imagine him lisping this
1. The Screamers were LA based.
2. Jello is a huge fan of the Screamers.
3. They are not obscure, they are widely influential to anyone who doesn't listen to only Sup Forumscore
4. His name is Tomata du Plenty
Biafra directly dedicates screamers for inventing synth punk and inspiring him
>some dumb white trash teens from a broken home shoot themselves with a shotgun
>oh no it's totes Judas Priest's fault, it's not because I'm a single mom and a failed excuse for a parent
That was classic when Rob Halford said "There is a subliminal message on the song. It says 'I have a peppermint. Would you like me to get you one?'" The judge and the whole courtroom all lit up with a smile at that point and it was obvious where this silly lawsuit was going.
Bohemian hippie avant garde acts we're doing far edgier shit in the 60's (cockettes, mothers of invention, the residents, etc.)
Beatniks were doing even edgier shit in the 50's
Metal is for children and lacks the intelligentsia of either of those movements
this is the sole case where christgau is right. progressive rock and metal is for emotionally stunted antisocial autistics
You hit the nail on the head of why critics don't like metal. They think it's not edgy or dangerous because of its working class (as opposed to boho) roots. Hence Jello Biafra's statement that "Heavy metal is the most conservative form of music there is. Even a high school gym teacher couldn't get that many people to all dress the same way."
That's hilarious
WDHMBT?
this guy's writing style is ass
>boho = bourgeois
am I missing something here
they seem ideologically opposed to one another, most beatniks and hippies were flat out communists and anarchists
I fuck with him for giving A- to Young Fathers' last 3 albums
I know Britney Spears was not well-liked by Christgau, probably for same reason. She was too working class/white trash and lacked any of Madonna's artsy qualities.
I just find it funny that Christgau loves Steely Dan but kinda crapped on the best album Aja.
>Carola suggests that by now they realize they'll never get out of El Lay, so they've elected to sing in their chains like the sea. After all, to a certain kind of reclusive aesthete, well-crafted West Coast studio jazz is as beautiful as anything else, right? Only I'm no recluse. I hated this record for quite a while before I realized that, unlike The Royal Scam, it was stretching me some; I still find the solo licks of Larry Carlton, Victor Feldman, et al. too fucking tasty, but at least in this context they mean something. I'm also grateful to find Fagen and Becker's collegiate cynicism in decline; not only is "Deacon Blues" one of their strongest songs ever, it's also one of their warmest. Now if only they'd rhymed "I cried when I wrote this song" with "Sue me if I play it wrong," instead of "Sue me if I play too long." Prefering long to wrong could turn into their fatal flaw. B+
And Deacon Blues is a mere 7:34 seconds. Christgau is a fucking pleb.
Boho meaning "Bohemian".
But arguing definitions is funny anyway because Marxists are mostly intellectuals and Bohemian types, not the working class they're supposed to be.
>working class people can't make art
what is this meme
Are you basing all of your ideological assumptions on the populations of Kansas and New York
It took me the longest time to figure out that he likes to use "El Lay" as a colloquial term for Los Angeles. I didn't understand what an "El Lay" was except it seemed to be somewhere in California.
Britney is probably a closet Republican anyway; she is from the South and had once said something to the effect that she didn't really believe in gay marriage.
>Carola
Would be his wife. She's apparently a colossal feminist and probably has him pussywhipped good. I've never doubted who wears the pants in that marriage.
...
>one of the most complex and experimental albums released at the time
>all Christgau has to say about it is "lol it's weird"
what a fucking retard
Television - Marquee Moon A+
The Replacements - Let it Be A+
Paul Simon - s/t A+
both New York Dolls records A+
CCR - Willie and the Poorboys A+
Brian Eno - Another Green World A+
Grateful Dead - Live/Dead A+
Magnetic Fields - 69 Love Songs A+
Moby - Play A+
Van Morrison - Moondance A+
Sly & the Family Stone - There's a Riot Goin' On A+
Neil Young - After the Goldrush A+
Late Registration - Kanye West A+
Al Green - Call Me A+
MIA - Kala A+
Sorry, but I don't really see how you can deny any of this.
>MIA - Kala A+
thats a toughee
>he likes good music so he must be a good music critic
I guess any random user from a chart thread would be a good critic as well, huh
...
Hotel California [Asylum, 1976]
Speaking strictly as a nonfan, I'd grant that this is their most substantial if not their most enjoyable LP--they couldn't have written any of the songs on side one, or even the pretentious and condescending "The Last Resort," without caring about their California theme down deep. But though one strength of these lyrics is that they don't exclude the Eagles from purgatory-on-earth, Don Henley is incapable of conveying a mental state as complex as self-criticism--he'll probably sound smug croaking out his famous last words ("Where's the Coke?"). I'd also be curious to know what Mexican-Americans think of the title tune's Spanish accent. B
The Long Run [Asylum, 1979]
Not as country-rocky as you might expect--the Eagles are pros who adapt to the times, and they make the music tough. I actually enjoy maybe half of these songs until I come into contact with the conceited, sentimental woman-haters who are doing the singing. I mean, these guys think punks are cynical and antilife? Guys who put down "the king of Hollywood" because his dick isn't as big as John David Souther's? C+