Tjames Madison: Beck, "Modern Guilt"

Beck did a bad, bad thing. An act so egregious that he has yet to be completely forgiven. For years, though, this betrayal existed only in a penumbra of rumors.

"Did you hear about Beck?"
"Do you think it could be true?"
"Why would he do it? Doesn't he care about us?"

As the gossip increased, it became more and more humiliating to be a fan of Beck. And while in certain social circles it was still acceptable to applaud the musician's work, this appreciation always had to be followed up with a disavowal of his misdeeds, similar to the way your mom talked about her Uncle Mort. He was a good man, but it's a shame about the whole "pedophilia thing."

Beck eventually came forward and admitted that the rumors were true. Hipsters everywhere hung their heads, and music critics began compiling vitriolic barbs to be used against the singer in future album reviews. Off in the distance a baby cried. It was true: Beck had a surname!

"Beck Hansen"

Fans and critics alike responded harshly. It was as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced. Not since Hitler, had a name aroused so much contempt and ill-will. Answers were demanded. Would Beck's music still be listened to? Could it be enjoyed? What about any future releases? Which name would they be released under? What do we tell the children?

If liveDaily contributor Tjames Madison was affected by Beck's infidelity, he certainly shows no sign of it. In his review of Beck's latest, Modern Guilt, not once does Madison mention the artist's revised moniker. Are we to believe that Madison was unaffected by the whole affair, or that he's simply in denial? As us reviewers are wont to do, I will attempt to remain positive and believe the former.

Madison makes no attempt to reinvent the wheel. He knows what reviewers do well, and sticks to that. Opinions are offered up as facts and comparisons to prior works are made. He describes Modern Guilt as being Beck's "most even outing since 2002's Sea Change." And, of course, no review would be replete without the obligatory Bob Dylan simile. The lyrics to "Profanity Prayers" are described as being "overtly Dylanesque."

Unfortunately, though, neither Radiohead nor Pavement are mentioned. A writer of Madison's stature should know better than that. These shortcomings, while significant, are not enough to take away from the strength of the review. For Tjames Madison's review of Beck's Modern Guilt, I award it a child tableau.

Catfish Adams: Year 25 of My Life

Today is my 26th birthday. This past year started off strong (at a bowling alley, actually); the kind of year anyone could rally behind. I mean, who wouldn't want to go to Memphis and see the shag carpeting on the ceilings of Graceland? Fried chicken at Gus'? Sign me up! But that strength began to fade near the halfway point. Flat tire, anyone? The year ended with a whimper, definitely not the best conclusion to leave audiences wanting more (no bowling, or any other, ball play). The most frustrating thing is that audiences know that the potential for more is there. Let's hope that the inevitable follow-up does what its predecessor could not do.

For the power of year 25's start, I award it a set of folded towels.

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Now playing: The Mars Volta - Tourniquet Man
via FoxyTunes

Marc Hogan: Weezer, "Weezer (The Red Album)"

Pitchfork has standards. Really high standards. If Pitchfork reviewed mothers, yours would only score a 2.3/10, and she'd probably get punched in her uterus, possibly even causing it to prolapse. So much for that little brother you were hoping to have. Apparently your mom is too well-known and her style "tiresome."

If your own mother, the woman who sacrificed so much so you could receive the education that made you the success you are today, can't even break 3.0, then what hope does Weezer and their new self-titled album have?

Not much, according to reviewer Marc Hogan, although they do fair better than your poor moms (which means you should probably be sending that box of chocolates to Rivers Cuomo on Mother's Day instead).

It's always a bad sign when a review starts off by looking back longingly. "Remember when..." "It used to be..." "I had a girlfriend this one time..." This is what Hogan regales his readers with. Apparently he used to like Weezer, particularly their first two albums, Weezer ("The Blue Album") and Pinkerton. He even calls those two LPs "75 minutes of near-perfect power-pop." You will note that even perfection--a quality, trait, or feature of the highest degree of excellence--only receives a 9.3 in Pitchfork's domain. But after that first 75 minutes,the rest of the band's offerings went to shit, much like Hogan's review. His gaze remains fixed behind him for the rest of his review and fails to ever turn forward.

Readers are tired of reading about what was, and desperately want to read about what will be. What will Weezer's next album sound like? Will Pavement ever reunite? What will knock Pitchfork off their own self-constructed pedestal? These are the types of question that Hogan and all reviewers should be asking.

Marc Hogan's review offers no redeeming value. His review of Weezer's "The Red Album" is thusly awarded a Reiki affirmation.

Annie Zaleski: "Show Review: Radiohead in St. Louis at the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater, May 14"

Despite what you might have heard, predictability isn't always a bad thing. It can save you the trouble of guessing what's going to happen in the future. In fact, I'd say predictability is the best friend of the impatient man (just man; woman need to learn patience). For example, because I know that all music reviewers are not fans of music, I can expect to read vitriolic attacks based on arbitrary factors including, but not limited to, how much a band sounds like Pavement.

Imagine my surprise when I read a review of a recent Radiohead concert by Annie Zaleski. Annie Zaleski is not a music critic. How can I be so certain? Because she's a fan. A BIG one, if her review Show Review: Radiohead in St. Louis at the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater, May 14 is any indicator. There are several obvious clues:

- She attended the Radiohead concert she reviewed.
Actual music critics do not need to attend shows, or even listen to albums, in order to write their reviews. If anything, the lack of participation actually makes for a better review. How can you maintain your journalistic objectivity if you get caught up in the frenzy and atmosphere of people actually enjoying listening to music? The answer? You can't. (For the sake of disclosure, I did not actually read Ms. Zaleski's review.)

- She took her own photographs.
What's worse than Zaleski attending the concert? Attending AND taking photographs! So much wasted effort--she might as well have attended the concert twice! Standard protocol for concert reviews is to send the staff photographer to snap some pictures, and then you write your review based on what was captured with the camera. If you don't have a staff photographer, then you just do a Google Image Search and base your review on whatever non-pornographic images come up. If the search yields nothing but porn, then it must not have been that good of a concert (surprise, surprise).

- She took a photo of the back of someone's head and considered it a success.
I may not know much about "composition" or "exposure" or "a lens cap," but I do know that never ever has anyone ever thought that the back of someone's head was interesting (unless the front of their head was actually on the back of their head because their mom was drunk every day of her pregnancy).

- She posted the entire set list (including both encores).
Nobody likes a know-it-all, Annie.

- She wrote sooooo many words.
It's not unusual for a review to be lengthy. What is unusual is when the majority of that lengthy review is actually based on the subject being reviewed. Annie, I understand that the name of the blog is 'A to Z,' but was it really necessary to cover everything about the concert from A to Z? To make matters worse, it wasn't even the standard 26-letter, English alphabet, but one of those weird alphabets with about 4,786 distinctive characters.

I can appreciate your enthusiasm (sort-of), Annie, but let's leave the reviews to us professionals. How about we make a deal? You won't write any more reviews, and us critics won't wait in line for hours to buy an album, or attend a concert unless we're on the comp. list. Sound fair?

Since Ms. Zaleski's review wasn't actually a review, it's hard to decide what kind of rating to give Show Review: Radiohead in St. Louis at the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater, May 14. So I'll just give it a 1965 Mustang GT Convertible.