The critics falling over to tell themselves he’s boring
“Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.” — Elvis Costello
Some rock music artists (like Costello and others) have little use for rock critics. Others try to maintain some sort of a love/hate relationship. Either way, they must face the reality that art critics have probably been around for as long as there has been art to critique.
Until the 1960s or so, critics in newspapers and magazines tended to limit their subject matter to the fine arts, film and theater. Pop and rock music was dismissed as fleeting and unworthy of such scrutiny.
Beginning around the time The Beatles and Bob Dylan took the long-playing record album and turned it into an artistic statement, “rock journalism” became a thing, led by pioneering wordsmiths like Robert Christgau, Dave Marsh and Lester Bangs writing for Rolling Stone, The Village Voice, Crawdaddy and Creem.
When I was in high school in the early ‘70s, I started subscribing to Rolling Stone and always looked forward to reading the album reviews. They gave us the lowdown on the latest releases of favorite artists and new and unfamiliar groups as well. These reviews proved helpful to us (if not always accurately) in determining which records to add to our growing album collections.
As a journalism major at Syracuse University, I came to realize that the type of writing I enjoyed most was reviewing, or “critical writing,” as the course was titled in the curriculum. On the first day of class, we learned Rule Number One: Reviewers couldn’t merely say that we liked or disliked something. We had to explain why. We were assigned to analyze and evaluate movies, plays, TV shows and concerts, always giving reasons for our opinions.
Of all the art forms we surveyed, I most enjoyed critiquing rock albums and concerts because I was passionate about the music and had a fair amount of knowledge about specific genres and recording artists.
I became a regular contributor to, and eventually an editor of, The Daily Orange, SU’s daily independent student newspaper. I felt privileged to have access to this forum. Just about everyone has an opinion, but in the pre-Internet age, very few had the chance to share those opinions with the public on a regular basis through the media.
Upon getting a position as a reporter/reviewer at a chain of community newspapers in Cleveland, I felt I had the dream job: I was being paid to attend the concerts of dozens and dozens of major and minor artists and then to publish my observations about the performances. Friends envied me for this, and I don’t blame them.
I quickly learned I had to develop a thick skin, because not everyone agreed with my opinions. (Imagine that.) Some readers were sufficiently annoyed with what I had written that they wrote angry letters to the editor or called me at the office to rant about how I didn’t know what the hell I was talking about. Usually these were rabid fans of some band that I had had the audacity to criticize. Even if I had given what I felt was a positive review, the reader could not abide even one negative remark. And on those occasions where I disliked the concert and wrote disparagingly about it or the artist in general, the gloves really came off. “You’re a complete idiot, Hackett. How can you call yourself an objective reviewer?” one letter said.
A reader response, The Daily Orange, 1976
That always made me laugh. A review is, by its very nature, not remotely objective. It is a subjective commentary, merely one person’s opinion. But because I had the forum to print my opinion and he didn’t, the reader found it unfair. “Who does this guy think he is?” was the gist of his response.
I certainly understood his frustration. I, too, still get a little irritated when a favorite artist of mine receives a scathing critique for a new release or appearance. But having been on both sides of this equation over the years, I have learned some important truths about this intriguing “critical writing” profession.
From Scene Magazine, 1990
Some say music critics are merely frustrated artists who don’t have the juice to write songs themselves, and their envy motivates them to take shots at those who do. No doubt there’s some truth to that; some critics seem to either have a hidden agenda or develop a bias against (or for) certain bands or musical styles, doing the artists and the readers a disservice. But if the critic’s motives are pure and honest, and he writes with expertise and a desire to search for the how and why, the reviews can be illuminating, well-reasoned and fair.
The primary definition of “criticism” in Webster’s is “the expression of disapproval of someone or something based on perceived faults or mistakes.” And there you have it, the main reason why many people don’t like critics: They tear down, they find fault, they harp on the negative. And it’s a fact that some critics seem to delight in writing what are known as “hatchet jobs,” which, depending on the clout and reach of the critic, can unjustifiably ruin artists’ careers, or at least their self-confidence.
However, the converse is also true. If a review unendingly gushes compliments to the point where it sounds like it was written by the artist’s publicist, it lacks credibility, especially if the critic routinely writes this type of “puff piece.” That’s why it’s interesting to note that some artists often claim to dislike overwhelmingly positive reviews nearly as much as the brutally negative ones.
A Sun Press clipping, and reader response. 1983.
The secondary definition of “criticism” is “the analysis and judgment of the merits and faults of an artistic work,” and that’s a more apt description of what a really great critic does. He/she uses knowledge and expertise about the subject, seasons them with his/her own particular tastes and sensibilities, and renders a meaningful judgment about the work in question. Typically, the most worthwhile reviews include a mix of pro and con, because in almost every case, even the very best stuff has weaknesses and even the worst dreck has some redeeming value.
It’s frowned upon these days to pass judgment on anyone or anything. “Judge not, lest ye be judged,” and so forth. But the key word here, I think, is meaningful. If the judgment has depth and authority based on knowledge, it has more weight and credibility than a mere thumbs-up or thumbs-down rating. The critic who offers perspective – weighing new songs against previous work, for instance, or why and how yesterday’s concert compares to shows from years past – is adding substantive discussion to the understanding of the artist’s message and milieu.
Artists know going in that their work is going to be put under the microscope and evaluated, sometimes in a manner they find decidedly unfair. They can ignore it, they
Scene magazine review and reader response, 1984
can complain bitterly, or they can have a sense of humor about it. The title of this essay comes from a 1974 song called “Only Solitaire” written by Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull, who cleverly used actual phrases from critical reviews to poke fun at himself in the lyrics. Critics who found Anderson’s animated stage persona tiresome saw their disdainful words thrown back at them in lyrics like: “Court-jesting, never-resting, he must be very cunning to assume an air of dignity, and bless us all with his oratory prowess, his lame-brained antics and his jumping in the air, and every night his act’s the same and so it must be all a game of chess he’s playing…”
There are those who have proposed doing away with music criticism altogether. The late iconoclast Frank Zappa once said, “Most rock journalism is written by people who can’t write, interviewing people who can’t talk, for people who can’t read.”
I doubt that critical writing of the arts will ever go away. Indeed, the explosion of social media outlets in recent years has made that once closely-held public forum available to anyone with a laptop or smartphone, so now “everyone’s a critic.” Hell, pretty much anyone can start a blog…
I regret the trend in recent years away from the longer, thoughtful essays on artistic work and toward the quickie “capsule reviews” found in most publications. These tend to be woefully superficial and almost pointless for those of us searching for reasons why we should consider investing in the album/song/concert/artist.
A Daily Orange critique, 1976
My advice would be to take any review only for what it is: one person’s opinion. It would be wise to read multiple reviews, particularly those that go into greater depth, to get some sense of balance. If you find you invariably agree with a particular critic’s reviews, you’ll probably end up giving more weight to his/her opinion (much like viewers who get their political news from sources that reinforce the views they already hold).
Or you might do with music reviews what my daughter does regarding movie reviews: She resists reading them at all, or at least not until after she’s seen the film. Understandably, she grew weary of staying away from a movie because it was panned, only to see it later and totally enjoy it.
Perhaps that’s the best approach: Judge for yourself.
and Frank Sinatra to The Beach Boys and Neil Diamond.
The Funk Brothers can thank Allan Slutsky, a musician/arranger and music historian, for his efforts to increase awareness about The Funk Brothers and their monumental contributions to popular music. In 1989, he wrote “Standing in the Shadows of Motown,” an award-winning best seller that told the fascinating yet tragic story of the late James Jamerson, The Funk Brothers’ influential giant on bass guitar. The book doubled as a bass instruction book, detailing Jamerson’s game-changing bass lines on iconic tracks like “I Was Made to Love Her,” “My Girl,” “Reach Out I’ll Be There,” “Nowhere to Run” and “What’s Going On.”
legendary music was created. Slutsky’s narrative put it this way: “The Funk Brothers were an overpowering lineup of veteran groove masters and trailblazing virtuosos… An irresistible tapestry of instrumental hooks and counterrhythms that defined the Motown sound. The dance floors of the world didn’t stand a chance.”
known as “The Snake Pit” because of all the cables running down from the ceiling. It was in this relatively cramped yet mystical place the Funk Brothers called home where all those hundreds of Motown songs were created, sometimes in an hour or less.
Four Tops, Marvin Gaye, Stevie Wonder, Smokey and The Miracles, Mary Wells, Martha and The Vandellas, The Contours, Kim Weston, Junior Walker and The All-Stars, Gladys Knight and The Pips and Brenda Holloway took turns dominating the pop charts with records that are all still enormously popular 50 years later. Accompanying them on every one of their records was one combination or another of The Funk Brothers.
The Funk Brothers often moonlighted on the sly for other labels, recording in Detroit and elsewhere, in bids to augment their Motown salaries. It became a worst-kept secret that Jackie Wilson’s 1967 hit “(Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher” did not have a Motown influence by accident; the Funk Brothers migrated to do the Wilson session. Various Funk Brothers also appeared on such non-Motown hits as “Cool Jerk” (by the Capitols), “Agent Double-O Soul” by Edwin Starr, “(I Just Wanna) Testify” by the Parliaments, “Band Of Gold” by Freda Payne and “Give Me Just A Little More Time” by Chairmen of the Board.
industry recognition. Jamerson was posthumously inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland in 2000, and Benjamin in 2003. The Funk Brothers received a collective Lifetime Achievement Award at the 2004 Grammys and were inducted into the Musicians Hall of Fame in Nashville in 2007. A star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame was instilled in 2013.
one recording nothing without The Funk Brothers!”
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