STFU, Pitchfork: Bishop Allen’s Grrr…
This here is the first edition of what I’m imagining will be a long-running series of posts titled “STFU, Pitchfork,” the basic gist of which is me declaring shenanigans on Pitchfork reviewers when I deem it necessary to do so. And should YOU ever feel it necessary to call them out, then please feel free to join me.
The reason for my Pitchfork-induced ire today? Their scathing review of Bishops Allen’s new LP, Grrr…, which they scored at 3.5 out of 10 and, in doing so, basically declared it a failed album.
Admittedly, I’m no long-standing fan of Bishop Allen, but they’ve been on my radar ever since Matt posted on them during the love fest that was last February’s Love Week. I was intrigued, downloaded Grrr… as soon as I was able, and have been moderately enjoying it ever since. Nothing on it is too terribly artful or cutting edge, but it’s a pleasant album full of happy songs, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.
So, when I saw that Pitchfork gave it a failing grade, calling Grrr… “woefully self-involved,” “unengaged” and “smug,” I just couldn’t let it go uncommented on. Is it a fairly safe album? Yes. Is Grrr… a mind-blowing experience? No. But, really, woefully self-involved and smug? Doesn’t the reviewer realize that he’s really just describing the institution of Pitchfork itself???
Pot kettle black, dude. Pot. Kettle. Black. Grrr… is a perfectly fine album. Get over yourself Mr. Currin, and STFU PItchfork.
