Well, don't get too excited just yet, but as many of you may not know, I'm currently 'on vacation' in the Canadian Arctic (Iqaluit, Nunavut, on Baffin Island, to be more exact), so my internet connections have been less than steady. Truth be told, I haven't had a decent (ie: dsl) connection in over a month. Future postings should be somewhat more frequent from here on out, however, this blog is going to take on a slightly different format.
Let's face facts (or rather, opinions): you have yours, and I have mine. Personally, I don't believe in such a thing as bad taste, or conversely, in the cultish hegemony of High Art either. All orthodoxies are borders, and personally I'd rather piss on the floor than have to confine myself to the acceptable parameters of what critics define as 'Music Criticism.' Me. I am not a music critic. True, I did write album reviews for over two years (most of them shitty reviews, but the more I wrote the better they became), and I have referred to myself in the past as an aspiring critic and/or a music critic. That age has passed. What I now realize is that all I can possibly hope to achieve, in writing about the sounds I like to hear, is that I may possibly turn someone on to an oddity they might have never been exposed to. Clearly, anyone who possesses a range of intelligence enough for them to place a simple verb before a noun, has the ability to criticize (ex: verb, "shitty", noun, "indie-band") . See, it's easy.
So why the predisposition towards pretention. Why must records be shoveled down our throats buy media (indie or not) organizations as these perfectly hip, fetishized commodities which, if you don't like (insert Trendy Band A here) means you are certifiably clinically retarded, and have 0 hipness experience points. Oh just eat my sweet dick. Nobody has to love anything, and I've certainly had enough experience in weirding out my friends (with their own individual tastes, neither better nor worse than mine) with fucked up music to know that some people, while they may appreciate the artistic intent involved, just don't like it. Giving an overrated, or even genuinely great, record 5 stars or a 10.0 with enough adjectives to fill a thesaurus (and obscure references to postmodern philosophy or fucking Don DeLillo's "White Noise") doesn't make you fucking Robert Cristgau incarnate, it just makes you a bigger douchebag than I'm willing to cop to.
So anyways, don't worry friends, I still love writing about music, and I'm still as opinionated and passionate about the whack-job weirdness that floods my engines as ever, but I'll leave the criticism waiting at the fleshy brown door of my asshole. No, expect this blog from now on to be more about what I'm into, and why it melts my fucking face off!
or (as I also scribbled down on my blackboard brain)
" Aloha boils and ghouls,
after a month-long hiatus (no internet being the damnable culprit), I'm back at the Heavy Vibes blog (http://heavyvibes.blogspot.com) with a slightly altered agenda.
Taste the good times people, don't hate.
I've resolved to remove any critical douchebaggery from the remainder of my music writing. I love what I love and I won't apologize for it, but I'll be fucked if I'm going to tell you that some obscure 4.99 cdr is the noise equivalent to the Tower of Piza (or that the Leaning Tizzower barely rates a 2.6 when compared to the 10.0 of my perfectly flacid cock). Fuck that.
Record ratings are for pitchforked twats.
From now on, think of these musings on music as the humble opinions of one zonked-out lover."
Continue to dye in Peace.
-Christian
P.s. I've got a nice steamy load of cdrs/cds/& dvds on their way, so keep coming back every week and I'll promise to have an extra special surprise waiting.
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