Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?, Afterword

Point...
Counterpoint...

All's fair.

Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?, Part II

Another recent release, Mumford & Sons' Sigh No More, illustrates the shortcomings of a Pitchfork review. Personal preferences aside, it's hard to respect a review that seems more interested in crafting an elaborate allegory than actually exploring the merits of the music itself. Before anything else is mentioned, the review sets out to deride the name of the band. Sure, Mumford & Sons is not a great name, but Pitchfork never found it necessary to dissect the names of Hunx & His Punx, Dinowalrus, Let's Wrestle, New Young Pony Club, or Sunburned Hand of Man in reviews of those act's recent releases. What gives?

So yeah, back to the allegory. The fact that the frontman/songwriter of the band (whose last name is Mumford, by the way) decided to name his band Mumford & Sons, is clearly his way of trying to garner a sense of authenticity and compare himself/his music to family-owned businesses in real small towns run by real people for generations. Right? To be such a simple-minded rip-off artist, as the review suggests, Marcus Mumford sure does craft elaborate schemes when it comes to naming his band! Is it possible that a fairly lame, yet completely innocuous, name got stuck on his act, whether by his own doing or by someone else and he just went with it? Nevermind that Pitchfork calls its annual music festival in Chicago the, wait for it, Pitchfork Music Festival.

As for the music (the point, right?), by "providing value-added products at discount prices", Mumford & Sons have managed to poach material from Fleet Foxes...and Avett Brothers...and Kings of Leon...and Keane...and Gomez. Seriously? Can you really say a band is unoriginal when you cite that many different influences? It seems like the ability to pull together a hybrid of so many bands with so many different origins might actually be a good, diverse thing. Maybe?

The elements of those five bands cited include "group harmonies", "exaggerated earnestness", "rock 'real'-ness", "second-hand drama" and "insistent rusticisms". Since when did music with harmonies (a core musical element), earnestness (believability seems to be a good thing), "real"-ness (whatever that is, would "fake"-ness be better?), drama (it is songs about relationships, after all) and rusticisms (it is folk music, after all) become a bad thing? Couldn't these kind of ambiguous associations be made to any album? What it comes down to is that Mumford & Sons are British (sorta like Gomez) and play a new brand of folk music (see Avett Brothers). They're popular in England (but not as much as Kings of Leon) and seem to be generating some buzz in the U.S. (much like Keane). Then there are those harmonies, not to mention banjos (!), that could have only been written after listening to Fleet Foxes. Clearly both of these bands owe their entire existence to Ralph Stanley, or whoever invented the banjo/harmony combination.

Time for more influences. Don't forget Celtic melodies, Fairport Convention and Pentangle. Wait...did you say Fairport Convention and Pentangle? As in the Fairport Convention and the Pentangle? Midlake thinks they can sound like them too! The mission of Pitchfork has been identified: to protect and preserve the good names of Fairport Convention and Pentangle (both of made great music, by the way). Basically, Mumford & Sons, a British folk-rock band sound like British folk-rock bands. While they might not distance themselves drastically from recent upstarts like Frightened Rabbit, We Were Promised Jetpacks and Frank Turner, or historical acts like Fairport Convention or Pentangle, it's not a particularly egregious offense. Great Britain is not a huge place and there's only so many different ways to sing a song.

Listening to the album, you might at times think something you hear is reminiscent of something else you've heard, but that's part of what makes music fun. It's hard to believe that anyone hears this album and can only think about what an abomination it is that a band could make money off such blatant unoriginality. Like it or leave it, innovation or lack thereof is not what got this album released or into the ears of listeners. On Paul's Boutique, the Beastie Boys said, "Only 24 hours in a day, only 12 notes a man can play." True on both counts. However, since that particular album is primarily composed of sampled music and many sampled lyrics, Pitchfork probably thinks it is a piece of trash. Right?

Back to Mumford & Sons, once the review actually gets around to talking about the songs on the album being reviewed, the contradictions start rolling in and the wheels start coming off. In one paragraph alone, Mumford is accused of being "anonymous", but then "self-absorbed" as well. By this point, the review is completely useless. With a numerical rating at the beginning of the review, you already know what is going to be said and few surprises or interesting insights can be expected. In this case, the review could have gone on for several more paragraphs, but eventually the reader would realize that listening to a bad album is still far more enjoyable than reading a bad review.

Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?, Part I

One of the overriding themes of Watchmen is "Who Watches the Watchmen?". This same idea can be applied in a vast range of instances, but today the focus is on one singular application: Who criticizes the critics?

Pitchfork Media has done much for the mainstream crossover appeal of indie music over the past several years. What started out as a website where people could go to actually find a review of an album that would never appear in Rolling Stone or Spin has developed into a leading opinion-maker, hype-generator and status-definer in popular music today. With this kind of influence and relevancy, though, come some unfortunate side effects. Has Pitchfork gotten away from its initial role of filling the void in coverage in independent music by creating a new standard that marginalizes and pigeonholes music just like previous generation of mainstream commercial media outlets did?

This is not a new concept and not really a terribly important one in the grand scheme of things. A very small percentage of people who buy music do so solely based on a review they read. If a teenage girl in Nebraska hears a K$sha song on the radio and likes it (somehow), she's going to buy or download it regardless of what some pale dude living in a commune in Williamsburg thinks of the song. If the president of the Bon Jovi fan club chapter in Great Falls, Montana hears that Jon and the boys are putting out a new album, he's not going to pick up the latest issue of a magazine to help decide whether or not he wants to buy it. The people that read reviews most and actually let the review influence their buying/listening decisions are those who buy and listen to the most music anyway: the obsessives.

Regardless, bands in the "indie scene" are inclined to align themselves with Pitchfork in any way possible. For example, the Texas band Midlake released a new album recently that hit store shelves with a sticker on the cover that advertised a couple of the songs featured on the album and some bonus multimedia material. However, on this same sticker, above the information about songs and content, there was a quote that really meant to grab potential buyers' attention:

"...lush, haunted." -Pitchfork

This is all fine, except that Pitchfork gave the album a rating of 3.6 out of 10 on their so-refined-it-needs-a-decimal-point-and-tenth-of-a-point-intervals scale. It is hard to believe that Pitchfork wrote their review with the hope that Midlake would be using this review to promote their new album. Thing is, the "...lush, haunted" reference did not even come from Pitchfork's review of the album. No, it came from the introduction to an interview with Midlake's frontman, Tim Smith, that Pitchfork published last November. In the interview, it was discovered that some of the lushness and haunted-ness was inspired by English folk bands like Fairport Convention and Pentangle, which aren't exactly common names on Pitchfork (or anywhere for that matter). Furthermore, the interview was conducted by one Pitchfork writer, while the review was written by another staff member. Maybe Mr. Breihan, the interviewer, LOVES Midlake's lush and haunting sound, while Mr. Thompson, the reviewer, believes it to be "languid" and "uninterested".

Has anything really been accomplished by using the Pitchfork name when it does not represent a particular sentiment? After all, most people that might actually respect the Pitchfork reference are the same people that likely read the disparaging review on the website back in February. What about the bands themselves? Do they really care? Probably not, as evident by the multiple on-stage references to Pitchfork's ratings by performers at, of all places, the Pitchfork Music Festival. Irony aside, it does make you wonder if there is minimum score required in order for a band to be invited to play that festival. If not, maybe Pitchfork realizes, just like some bands, that (segue) it's all just a business.

So, it's come to this. A service that plays matchmaker for people who seek to commit adultery. Pretty lame. Pretty sick, actually. It does, however, show that business can motivate seemingly impossible levels of greed and selfishness. It's also lazy. If you insist on cheating, then you should at least have to work for it. That seemed to be a reasonable approach while serving as a graduate teaching assistant at a fine academic institution several years back.

Finding happiness these days is supposedly being made easier and easier by technology. There's Facebook, there's eHarmony, there's Match.Com, there's a million more. You can break the ice with an email or text message, instead of sweaty palms and stuttering. This is great, except that the same technology that helps people find a relationship now helps them destroy it. The same way many people use alcohol as "liquid courage", people can use the internet as "eCourage".

Not only are there "services" such as AshleyMadison, but the amount of information provided on internet websites and profiles has removed the necessary effort in relationship building. Normally it would be seen as good thing that you can find out a lot about someone just by reading their Facebook page. Most would argue that this can be used to make a decision of whether you might be interested in someone before getting the guts to ask them out, but is this a good thing? A Facebook profile is not an accurate reflection of someone, regardless of how much detail is given. You never know when something was put on there or in what context. You might find the answer to these uncertainties by actually meeting the person and talking to them about their favorite music, movies, books, etc. Crazy. After all, even if you do decide you want to go out with someone based on their Facebook page, do you really want to start a conversation with, "So, I was just browsing your Facebook page..."?

The owners of AshleyMadison will surely insist that they are just providing a service to those looking for a service to be provided. They'll say they don't encourage or support infidelity, yet their company slogan is "Life is short. Have an affair." Sounds like a winner. They'd even like to put their company name on a major airport as a corporate sponsorship. If there's one thing a major airport does not need, it's another means by which for road-weary business travelers to consider cheating on their spouses back at home.

Seeing things like this makes a TV show like Millionaire Matchmaker seem almost quaint and charming. At least on the show, the queen matchmaker refuses to help millionaire egomaniacs get exactly what they want if exactly what they want is a trophy bride that will be just another "flavor of the week". The show actually attempts to unravel the complex and sometimes not-so-complex personalities that carry all that money around. All at once the show is enjoyable and disgusting, but at least there is a thread of decency running through most of the episodes. The same cannot be said for other outlets of relationships doomed to be dysfunctional from the start.

As most of you know, it is often quite amusing to see what Google predicts you are typing in the search box before you type it. Today's example comes from an innocent search at work for the answer to an innocent question, "Is lead a carcinogen?".



It is so good to know that while kids are munching on lead paint chips at the playground and drinking lead-tainted water from old pipes, there is such overwhelming concern and awareness regarding Lady Gaga's anatomy and exactly how illegal it is to participate in illegal file sharing online. At least people have some kind of heart since they want to know if Lil' Wayne being dead is the reason he keeps avoiding going to jail.

Stay classy society.

Today Tiger Woods' caddy spoke to the media in his native New Zealand today. That's news, but not because of what he knew, but what he didn't. Apparently the media thinks that his adviser on the course is also his adviser off the course. People have even suggested that he is partially to blame for Tiger's transgressions since he could have guided him out this situation just like he might guide him out of a bad lie (the golf kind).

The simple response to this is, where do you see Tiger Woods with your own eyes? Unless this blog reaches farther than ever imaginable, the only answer to that question is "on TV playing golf" or maybe "in person playing golf". Well, that's where the caddy sees him also. Even if he knew some of what was going on, Tiger is his boss. Would you tell your boss he was really letting you down by being a serial adulterer?

Why is it such a problem that Tiger Woods is completely 100% to blame for all of this? Does this mean you have to feel guilty watching him play golf? No. Tiger probably did nothing worse than the majority of professional athletes, famous musicians, hotshot attorneys or business tycoons do. Is cheating with ten (or more) women really worse than cheating with one woman from a moral standpoint? From the very first time, he had betrayed the trust of his wife and kids.

He also set a bad example for other kids, but those kids can now cheer for Phil Mickelson or Sergio Garcia. Tiger's wife and kids don't get to trade their version of Tiger in. Same goes for John Daly's family. While the pubic can watch and be amused, some people are forced to watch and shutter.

In the wake of all of this, every move Tiger makes has become headline news. He spent six weeks at a rehab clinic in Mississippi. He was seen jogging. Then there was that awful press conference. Basically, by furthering his media appeal, the amount of newsworthy developments has to sustain the increased interest. Therefore, stuff that was never interesting is all of a sudden front page material. Nobody really cares, but it feels like you should since it leads the evening news, Sportscenter and every website from Drudge to Gawker. Once everyone is talking about it, the news outlets can feel validated by covering every move incessantly. The machine feeds itself.

What is going on at Starbucks? The place is already a normal part of a large percentage of the country's population's lives, but it has crossed that line into the realm of celebrities, reality TV personalities and Tiger Woods. Every move they make is news all of a sudden. Not only are people are beginning to use Starbucks as an outlet to express their political beliefs, it has developed the same bad habits as American institutions like McDonalds and GM. You'd think companies might learn that bigger is not always better.

It will be interesting to see how some of this stuff settles out. Across the country there are people bringing their loaded guns to Starbucks, where now they can order almost a liter of coffee at a time. Obviously, the last thing the world needs are some gun owners that are not only proud, but also jittery from their bucket of coffee. The question is, what happens when a teabagger becomes such a fan of a coffee shop? Irony aside, the hipness of Starbucks is likely to suffer.

Part of the benefit of Starbucks is that customers typically come in, order a drink and leave with it. Since each drink can cost up to $5, most people limit themselves to just one. This is a far preferable situation than people sitting at work all day guzzling cup after cup after cup. Now that 3 or 4 normal cups of coffee can come in one serving, the addicts will feel better about getting "one" drink at Starbucks. The challenge is going to be drinking the thing before it gets cold or hot, whichever you don't want it to do.

At least people might now learn that "Trenta" is Italian for "thirty". Since the drink is actually 31 ounces, Starbucks must have thought trentuno wasn't as marketable.