Monday, August 14, 2006

pick a B.C. date, because you're history

(or why in ten years, no one will give a shit about

I've always had this love-hate relationship with Pitchfork. On the one hand, it's usually the first site I'll check out to read about bands that I'm halfway interested in listening to; on the other hand, a good chunk of the artists they cover turn out to be a huge letdown, often derative of an obsolete (read: annoying, studpid) brand of music.

Over the last year-and-a-half, Pitchfork has let me down more and more, giving webspace to stinkers like M.I.A., Gnarls Barkley, Lil' Kim, Test Icicles, and Lil' Wayne, all the while shitting on stellar releases by Little Brother, David Bazan, and Eugene Mirman.

Every time I get a cheap laugh at Blue States Lose, I realize that though Pitchfork and their ilk have the world by the balls at the moment, it won't last long. Sometime -- hopefully soon -- the world will revolt, and all the coked up hip kids with their stupid rattails, fake gold chains, and Bruce Springsteen "Born in the U.S.A." t-shirts will find themselves scrambling to have a halfway original thought.


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