Pitchfork at its Pitchforkiest.

[The Czech Republic 0]

source plz: http://www.pitchforkmedia.com/record-revie...nt-eatery.shtml

 

Somewhere deep in the heart of Athens, Georgia, there lies a 10-acre cornfield. Five feet from its northwest corner stands a single willow tree. One hazy Sunday afternoon, I set about reclining under this tree, when all of a sudden I heard a great rumbling. The earth beneath me began to crumble, and before I could move it bottomed out and I found myself plunging toward the bowels of the earth. Descending towards what I was sure would be my demise, I blacked out.

 

I awoke in a brightly lit environment, surrounded on three sides by endless white space. Directly in front of me stood a gargantuan green metal gate, reflecting the mysterious light so intensely that I could barely look at it. "My God!" I said to myself. "I'm... dead!"

 

"Not so!"

 

I spun around to see where the mysterious voice had come from, and found myself face-to-face with six large elephants. To my amazement, the largest began to speak:

 

"Greetings, visitor. We are the six keepers of the Elephant 6 Kingdom. I am Fluffy, the elephant of precious cute."

 

"I am Pinky, elephant of psychedelia."

 

"I am Zanzithoph, elephant of bizarre and archaic instruments."

 

"I am Fatty, elephant of dense, layered production."

 

"I am Friendly, elephant of perpetually rotating band members."

 

"I am Ringo, elephant of Beatle worship. And you have arrived just in time for the party."

 

Before I had an opportunity to interrogate the elephants, I was whisked through the green gates into a vast open field. The elephants led me to a massive circus tent that lay in the middle of the field. "We cannot go beyond this point," spoke Pinky. "We wish you the best of luck." And with that, the six immense pachyderms dissolved into a sweet-smelling mist.

 

"Hello? Hello?" No response, except the echo of my own voice through the distant hills. Timidly, I peeled back the curtain leading to the giant big top. The incoming flood of shapes and colors almost knocked me on my back. Inside, various creatures, all dressed in tie-dyed business suits were mingling, drinking bright green ambrosia from silver goblets. But before I could fully take in my surroundings, the ringmaster approached me. "Welcome," he said. "We've been expecting you. My name is Robert Schneider."

 

"How did I get here?"

 

"You got here through the door."

 

"Yes, yes, but how did I get here?"

 

"Ah, but the question is not how you got here. The question is, how did you get there?"

 

I looked around and, to my astonishment, I found myself standing on the opposite end of the circus at the base of a giant stage. Robert was nowhere to be found. A voice came from behind me:

 

"No time to dawdle! The band is about to play!"

 

"Robert! What?! What band?"

 

"Shhhh!"

 

I turned around to find that the stage, which only moments ago had been empty, was completely set up. Three skinny gents in silver t-shirts were standing onstage, guitars in hand, grinning at me.

 

"My name is Kevin Barnes," said a man with a guitar, "and this is my band, Of Montreal. We are going to play some songles for you."

 

"Songles?!"

 

The band started their set. From the moment they began playing, I could tell I was going to dig it. Of Montreal had all the tenets of a great Elephant 6 band-- the catchy melodies, the whimsical lyrics, the marching-band-on-acid aesthetic, it was all there in full form. I turned to Robert, who stood next to me, eating porridge out of a tremendous pink flower.

 

"Bob, these guys sound great! Let me guess... you're their producer?"

 

A pearl-shaped tear welled in Robert's eye. He replied, "Alas, no!"

 

"But Bob! They sound so..."

 

"So Beatles? Yes, I know! Listen to 'Scenes from My Funeral!' Tell me that guitar part isn't taken straight out of 'Getting Better!'"

 

"Well, they definitely sound like they like the Beatles, but I wouldn't quite compare..."

 

"Oh, they do. They really like the Beatles."

 

"I love how dense and layered the sound is-- the sound is just huge! It reminds me of..."

 

"The Beatles?!"

 

"Uh... Hey, what's he doing now?"

 

"Oh... you see, Kevin likes to tell stories. This song is called 'Ira's Brief Life as a Spider'. It's about a spider who gets bitten by a snake hiding in a lake in a crater on his own tongue."

 

"What in the fuck?! This is starting to freak me out. I love this music, but the lyrics are starting to get on my nerves a little."

 

"Granted, the lyrics are a bit twee. But the music is so good! Kevin can write a good melody so effortlessly and arrange it impeccably."

 

"Wait a second. Is this a Kinks song?"

 

"Yes! 'World Keeps Going Round'."

 

"Good tune. But couldn't Kevin have done a bit more with the arrangement? Wouldn't it have been that much better if he'd given Ray Davies a complete psychedelic makeover?"

 

"Perhaps. Hold on, they're finishing the set!"

 

And as the last few notes rung out from Kevin Barnes' guitar, the array of strange creatures that, along with me, had made up the audience, returned to their underground dwellings. This left only Robert and I.

 

"Say, Bob, that was a really fantastic show! I'm going to pick up one of their records as soon as I get back. Wait a second... get back?! How am I supposed to get out of here?!"

 

"Do not fear. One sip of this drink will return you to the place that you call home."

 

I grasped the silver-lined goblet from Robert's hand and took a quick sip of the iridescent liquid contained within. The second the drink touched my lips, I found myself standing back underneath the willow tree. The Elephant 6 Kingdom seemed nothing but a distant memory. Shaken, I gathered my bearings and started to head home. "Boy," I said to myself, "that was one hell of a trip. Kind of like..."

 

A familiar voice echoed in the distance: "Magical Mystery Tour?"

 

-Matt LeMay, June, 2000

[Giuseppe Zangara 0]

I actually get all those references, but that doesn't make the piece any less lame. Just talk about the fucking record, ya know? This isn't Creative Writing 101.

[Your Paragon of Virtue 0]

Another example:

 

Eric Partridge's Dictionary of the Underworld (1998 NTC/Contemporary Publishing), a lexicon of 19th Century street slang, defines the idiom "pitch the fork" as "to tell a pitiful tale." The term appeared printed in 1863 in Story of a Lancashire Thief:

 

"Brummagem Joe, a cove ["fellow" or "dude," if you will] as could patter or pitch the fork with anyone."

 

At last, the secret motivation of my schtick and the etymology behind our name can be revealed. These reviews have been less critique than loquacious concept reviews by an entertaining tramp. So you'd think an 80-minute opus by Tool would be right up our alley. You'd be wrong.

 

Undertow, Tool's 1993 debut LP, took studio skill and over-trained chops to metal with aplomb. It was Rush Sabbath. As emotional, melodic metal goes (the cultural impact of which will be left to the reader), it opened doors for bands like the Deftones, and to some degree, Limp Bizkit. However, Tool have always possessed a latent understanding of absurdity and comedy; their videos look like Tim Burton stop-motion, goth Primus.

 

But with popularity and praise, Tool's shadowy tongue-in-cheek turned into the simple biting of tongues. Ænema spiced their sound with electronics and industry, as was the trend at the time. Now, with the early new century demanding "opuses," Tool follows suit. The problem is, Tool defines "opus" as taking their "defining element" (wanking sludge) and stretching it out to the maximum digital capacity of a compact disc.

 

Dictionary of the Underworld also offers several definitions for "tool," including: "a small boy used to creep through windows," "to steal from women's pockets," and "to loaf, to idle, to do nothing in particular." All of which oddly strike the nail on the head in relation to Lateralus.

 

And now, the obligatory pitching of the fork.

 

* * *

 

My Summer Vacation, by Crispin Fubert, Ms. Higgins' Eng. Comp. 901

 

I believe that music comes and goes in cycles, and some of us are lucky enough to ride the crests. The men in my family are perfect examples of this. Initially, I thought that perfect music appeared every 16 years, which is also the number of years between Fubert generations. My dad was born in 1971. In that year, landmark albums were released. They were Nursery Crime by Genesis (the first with Phil Collins), Yes Album by Yes, Aqualung by Jethro Tull, and In the Land of Grey and Pink by Caravan.

 

My grandfather skipped out on Vietnam-- because Jimi Hendrix himself told him to-- and he moved to Canterbury, which is in the United England. There, he got married to my grandmother, who used to sell baked goods to people at concerts, and they had my dad. After the war, they moved back with a box of awesome records like the ones I mentioned. I think it was cosmic or fate or something that my dad was born the same exact day Chrysalis released Aqualung, in March of 1971.

 

Jump ahead 16 years later and my dad got this girl pregnant, who turned out to be my mom. It was 1987 and a whole bunch of lame dance music was ruling the world, like Hitler or Jesus or something. But all of the sudden, albums like Metallica's ...And Justice for All, Celtic Frost's Into the Pandemonium, Queensryche's Operation: Mindcrime, and Slayer's South of Heaven came out. That's when I was born.

 

All those records were sitting around the house we all live in, and I grew up listening to them in the basement. So I couldn't wait until I was 16, because fate says that would be when 1) more kickass records would come out, and 2) I'd get sex. Both were due, because girls are dumb and listen to stuff like N'S(t)ync and BBSuk. But after this summer of 2001, I've had to rethink my entire cycle theory, like maybe the cycles of music are speeding as time goes forward, since two amazing things happened: Tool put out Lateralus and I saw Tool in concert.

 

I feel like this record was made just for me by super-smart aliens or something, because it's just like a cross of 1971 and 1987. Imagine, like, Peter Gabriel with batwings or a flower on his head singing while Lars Ulrich and Rick Wakeman just hammer it down. It's the best Tool record because it's the longest. All summer I worked at Gadzooks, folding novelty t-shirts, and on each break, I would listen to Lateralus because the store just plays hip-hop and dance. My manager would always get on me for taking my breaks 20 minutes too long, but that's how long the album is and it just sucks you in. It's like this big desert world with mountains of riffs, and drum thunderstorms just roll across the sky. The packaging is also cool, since it has this clear book with a skinless guy, and as you turn the pages, it rips off his muscles and stuff. Tool's music does the same thing. It can just rip the muscles and skin off you. I think that's what they meant. So my manager would be like, "Hey, there's a new box of 'Blunt Simpson' shirts I need you to put out and the 'Original Jackass' shelf is getting low." He's a vegan and I would buy him Orange Julius because he didn't know there's egg powder in there.

 

The first song is called "The Grudge," and it's about astrology and how people control stuff. Maynard sings like a robot or clone at the opening, spitting, "Wear the crutch like a crown/ Calculate what we will/ Will not tolerate/ Desperate to control/ All and everything." Tool know about space and math, and it's pretty complex. "Saturn ascends/ Not one but ten," he sings. No Doubt and R.E.M. sang out that, too, but those songs were wimpy and short. Maynard shows his intelligence with raw stats. I think there's meaning behind those numbers, like calculus. He also mentions "prison cell" and "tear it down" and "controlling" and "sinking deeper," which all symbolize how he feels. Seven minutes into the song, he does this awesome scream for 24 seconds straight, which is like the longest scream I've ever heard. Then at the end there's this part where Danny Carey hits every drum he has. This wall of drums just pounds you. Then the next song starts and it's quiet and trippy. Tool are the best metal band, since they can get trippy (almost pretty, but in a dark way) then just really loud. Most bands just do loud, so Tool is more prog.

 

Danny Carey is the best drummer in rock, dispute that and I know you are a dunce. I made a list of all of his gear (from the June issue of Modern Drummer):

 

Drums, Sonor Designer Series (bubinga wood): 8x14 snare (bronze), 8x8 tom, 10x10 tom, 16x14 tom, 18x16 floor tom, two 18x24 bass drums.

 

Cymbals, Paiste: 14" Sound Edge Dry Crisp hi-hats, 6" signature bell over 8" signature bell, 10" signature splash, 24" 2002 China, 18" signature full crash, #3 cup chime over #1 cup chime, 18" signature power crash, 12" signature Micro-Hat, 22" signature Dry Heavy ride, 22" signature Thin China, 20" signature Power crash.

 

Electronics: Simmons SDX pads, Korg Wave Drum, Roland MC-505, Oberheim TVS.

 

Hardware: Sonor stands, Sonor, Axis or Pro-Mark hi-hat stand, Axis or Pearl bass drum petals with Sonor or Pearl beaters (loose string tension, but with long throw).

 

Heads: Evans Power Center on snare batter (medium high tuning, no muffling), G2s on tom batters with G1s underneath (medium tuning with bottom head higher than batter), EQ3 bass drum batter with EQ3 resonant on front (medium tuning, with EQ pad touching front and back heads).

 

Sticks: Trueline Danny Carey model (wood tip).

 

He has his own sticks, even. In "Schism," the double basses just go nuts at the end. They also do in "Eon Blue Apocalypse." And in "The Grudge." And in "Ticks & Leeches." And nobody uses more toms in metal. You can really hear the 8x8 and 10x10 toms in the opening for "Ticks & Leeches." Over the summer, I counted the number of tom hits in that song, and it's 1,023!! Amazing. That's my favorite song, since it's the one that starts with Maynard screaming, "Suck it!" Then he says, "Little parasite." Later he shouts, "This is what you wanted... I hope you choke on it!" Every time I watched my boss suck down those Orange Juliuses I had that stuck in my head.

 

There is simply no way you could just dismiss the music (which is excellent). The bass playing is just really creepy and slow and sometimes it has this watery effect. Tool even follow in the footsteps of Caravan with Middle Eastern or Asian or something sounds. "Disposition" features bongos, and then on the next song, "Reflection," Carey's toms sound like bongos or tablas or whatever is in those Fruitopia commercials. Close your eyes and imagine if Asia had a space program. This is like the music they'd play. The song is called "Reflection" since it's quieter and slower and sounds like it's from India, where people go to reflect. Maynard's voice sounds like that little bleached midget girl flying around inside the walls in Polterghost. It's messed up.

 

In conclusion, there is more emotion on that album than would be on 30 Weezer albums. At the very least, there's 2.5 times as much. Like I said, it's messed up, like the world, which makes it very real. I don't think I'm going to have a kid this year, but that's also a good thing. Just imagine the Tool record that will come out in three years, according to my theory. It will be the future, and albums can be like longer with better compression and technology. Even as amazing as Lateralus is, I feel like there's a monster coming in three years. Music comes in cycles, and works on math, and my life and Tool are proof of that for sure.

 

-Brent DiCrescenzo

 

Source: Pitchfork's review of Lateralus, giving it a 1.9

 

I don't really like Tool or this album, so I thought it was kinda humourous. Still though, it would have been better off explaining WHY the album was so bad, as opposed to indirectly stating it through a thirteen year old kid.

[Red Baron 0]

If it was labelled Radiohead instead of Tool it'll be a 10.

[Skywarp! 0]

Another typical review was when they panned Jet's album. I wanted to know WHY it was bad. I didn't want the article written in the point of view of a stage manager, watching Jet get booed off the stage while people throw human excrement at them. That tells me nothing.

 

Actually, the worst review by that Brett C. person is of the Beastie Boys' "To the 5 Boroughs". He basically ends the review talking about how he's too good to review records anymore and that his indie film is set to debut on the big screen. Someone should have went to that and given it a snarky write up with a 1.4 rating in his local paper.

[Anorak 0]

Pitchfork has more in common with the NME than it realises.

 

Oh, and their best albums of the 90's list sucked.

[Black Lushus 0]

If it was labelled Radiohead instead of Tool it'll be a 10.

never understood the Radiohead appeal, personally...

 

same with Coldplay...

 

Lateralus would be okay if it wasn't 10 minute song, 10 minutes of weirdness, 10 minute song, 10 minutes of weirdness etc. etc.

[Your Paragon of Virtue 0]

Another typical review was when they panned Jet's album. I wanted to know WHY it was bad. I didn't want the article written in the point of view of a stage manager, watching Jet get booed off the stage while people throw human excrement at them. That tells me nothing.

 

Actually, the worst review by that Brett C. person is of the Beastie Boys' "To the 5 Boroughs". He basically ends the review talking about how he's too good to review records anymore and that his indie film is set to debut on the big screen. Someone should have went to that and given it a snarky write up with a 1.4 rating in his local paper.

Didn't he get let go from Pitchfork because of that album? I mean, didn't they give a disclaimer that said some of the things he said in his review were false or something, and he apologized and they had to take it out? It might have been a joke but I don't remember honestly.

[Gary Floyd 0]

If it was labelled Radiohead instead of Tool it'll be a 10.

Funny, they gave Radioheads "Com+Lag" EP a 4 of of 10.

[The Czech Republic 0]

If it was labelled Radiohead instead of Tool it'll be a 10.

never understood the Radiohead appeal, personally...

It's an acquired taste. By the way, I'm not wild about the COMLAG songs myself, except my strange obsession with "Where Bluebirds Fly." It probably got a low rating because a lot of the CDs were defective, and it was Japan/Australia only so it was really expensive for just being an EP.

[Gary Floyd 0]

If it was labelled Radiohead instead of Tool it'll be a 10.

never understood the Radiohead appeal, personally...

It's an acquired taste. By the way, I'm not wild about the COMLAG songs myself, except my strange obsession with "Where Bluebirds Fly." It probably got a low rating because a lot of the CDs were defective, and it was Japan/Australia only so it was really expensive for just being an EP.

The best tracks on that CD (I got it for my sister for Christmas) are the live version of "The Fog", the song "Gagging Order", and the alternate version of "I Will". It's definately a mixed bag as far as albums go.

[The Czech Republic 0]

"Where Bluebirds Fly" is better.

[Skywarp! 0]

I think we have a new worst Pitchfork review.

 

Audioslave

Out of Exile

[interscope; 2005]

Rating: 6.8

 

 

Fresh out of exile, Chris Cornell is trying to re-adjust to the real world. Cornell has one problem, though: He only communicates using Audioslave lyrics:

 

Chris Cornell at the eye doctor:

 

Eye Doctor: So what's wrong, Mr. Cornell?

 

Chris Cornell: I've stared straight into the sun.

 

Eye Doctor: You can't see anything?

 

Chris Cornell: I've seen 50,000 names all engraved on a stone.

 

Eye Doctor: So you see some things, but not other things.

 

Chris Cornell: Send my soul away.

 

Chris Cornell at a bodega where somebody's buying lotto tickets:

 

Old Guy: God I hope I win...

 

Chris Cornell: I will be your luck.

 

Chris Cornell returning to his home in L.A.:

 

Chris Cornell: I was happy in this fortress.

 

Chris Cornell working as a Japanese tour guide, scaring people:

 

Chris Cornell: I walk the streets of Japan till I get lost with a graveyard tan carrying a cross.

 

Chris Cornell at the DMV saying stupid things that prevent him from getting his driver's license:

 

Chris Cornell: I like driving backwards in the fog.

 

Chris Cornell screaming:

 

Chris Cornell: Yeahhh!

 

Chris Cornell interviewing at med schools:

 

Chris Cornell: I don't want to learn what I'll need to forget.

 

Chris Cornell explaining what he likes to study:

 

Chris Cornell: I like studying faces in a parking lot.

 

Chris Cornell, M.D., talking to a patient in the emergency room who really just needs stitches, nothing big:

 

Chris Cornell: I don't know why you're dying.

 

Chris Cornell getting fired from Guitar World:

 

Chris Cornell: I like throwing my voice and breaking guitars.

 

Chris Cornell giving tips on how to play hide-and-seek:

 

Chris Cornell: Hide in the hours before sunrise.

 

Christ Cornell wondering whether this will all go away:

 

Chris Cornell: I've got a feeling this will all go away.

 

Places Chris Cornell will drink you:

 

Chris Cornell: I will drink you in my honey.

 

Chris Cornell's favorite mathematical functions:

 

Chris Cornell: Multiply and divide.

 

Drown him fast?

 

Chris Cornell: Drown me slowly.

 

-Nick Sylvester, May 26, 2005

 

Apparently that's a record review. That tells me nothing of why it got a 6.8. So Cornell has creepy lyrics. BIG DEAL.

[Giuseppe Zangara 0]

6.8? Wow.

[Art Sandusky 0]

What creates such... things?

[Henry Spencer 0]

I think it's safe to say that Pitchfork's target audience wouldn't listen to Audioslave, Metallica, or Tool anyways, and thus the joke reviews they give to those bands are harmless.

[godthedog 0]

I think we have a new worst Pitchfork review.

 

Audioslave

Out of Exile

[interscope; 2005]

Rating: 6.8

 

 

Fresh out of exile, Chris Cornell is trying to re-adjust to the real world. Cornell has one problem, though: He only communicates using Audioslave lyrics:

 

Chris Cornell at the eye doctor:

 

Eye Doctor: So what's wrong, Mr. Cornell?

 

Chris Cornell: I've stared straight into the sun.

 

Eye Doctor: You can't see anything?

 

Chris Cornell: I've seen 50,000 names all engraved on a stone.

 

Eye Doctor: So you see some things, but not other things.

 

Chris Cornell: Send my soul away.

 

Chris Cornell at a bodega where somebody's buying lotto tickets:

 

Old Guy: God I hope I win...

 

Chris Cornell: I will be your luck.

 

Chris Cornell returning to his home in L.A.:

 

Chris Cornell: I was happy in this fortress.

 

Chris Cornell working as a Japanese tour guide, scaring people:

 

Chris Cornell: I walk the streets of Japan till I get lost with a graveyard tan carrying a cross.

 

Chris Cornell at the DMV saying stupid things that prevent him from getting his driver's license:

 

Chris Cornell: I like driving backwards in the fog.

 

Chris Cornell screaming:

 

Chris Cornell: Yeahhh!

 

Chris Cornell interviewing at med schools:

 

Chris Cornell: I don't want to learn what I'll need to forget.

 

Chris Cornell explaining what he likes to study:

 

Chris Cornell: I like studying faces in a parking lot.

 

Chris Cornell, M.D., talking to a patient in the emergency room who really just needs stitches, nothing big:

 

Chris Cornell: I don't know why you're dying.

 

Chris Cornell getting fired from Guitar World:

 

Chris Cornell: I like throwing my voice and breaking guitars.

 

Chris Cornell giving tips on how to play hide-and-seek:

 

Chris Cornell: Hide in the hours before sunrise.

 

Christ Cornell wondering whether this will all go away:

 

Chris Cornell: I've got a feeling this will all go away.

 

Places Chris Cornell will drink you:

 

Chris Cornell: I will drink you in my honey.

 

Chris Cornell's favorite mathematical functions:

 

Chris Cornell: Multiply and divide.

 

Drown him fast?

 

Chris Cornell: Drown me slowly.

 

-Nick Sylvester, May 26, 2005

 

Apparently that's a record review. That tells me nothing of why it got a 6.8. So Cornell has creepy lyrics. BIG DEAL.

that's a great BEGINNING to a review. best mix of snideness and real discussion i've read by pitchfork was 'the fragile'.

 

this stuff reminds me of an 'ET' review that roger ebert did in the form of a letter to his grandson. he was a little better at it, but it was still a stupid idea.

[Modern Man's Hustle 0]

Fucking scenesters, man. That's actually how they all talk, too.

[PLAGIARISM! 0]

He's right, we know we do it.

[B. Brian Brunzell 0]

Audioslave gets a 6.8? I'm surprised at Pitchfork for that one. I guess that power of Cornell is too much for them to bash the album.

[Modern Man's Hustle 0]

Didn't you read the review? It was scathing. SCATHING, I say.

[Guest PlatinumBoy]

Might I say Pitchfork has lost all it's snarkyness and ability to insult people by giving those goddamn Technologic remixed anything higher than 0 stars. I swear, anytime that fucking commercial for IPOD comes on with that stupid song I want to throw a brick through my tv.