[I'm not linking to anything. The Web is vast and friendly, like a crenellated vagina]
Lists. I can't resist. Yes, they make me insane, but I can't resist. After seeing Pitchfork's recent (and maddening) list of the top 100 songs of the '60s, I perused their site to see if they had any more lists to offer. Lo, they had a top-100 albums list each for the '70s, '80s, and '90s. I know, they make me insane, but read I must. Or skim. At least the '90s list. And it didn't fail to bring the bile. Okay,
OK Computer was number one. Who can argue? It would certainly make my top ten of that decade's best. But the review of the record consists of little more than a defense of its placement above My Bloody Valentine's
Loveless. In fact, the meat of the review is little more than a review of said penultimate pick. In fact, here, the
Loveless review is a better piece about
Loveless than their actual
Loveless review. In fact, I can't tell what most of the reviewers are talking about most of the time. They seem to hate music. Or something. They clearly love to write. One reviewer/music-hater writes this about
Slanted and Enchanted, their number 5 pick for decade's best (
Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain ranks eighth): "Pavement's most danceable and puzzling album contains segments of sassily oblique spoken-word, patches that go down like prog played at 78rpm, and jams that crucify humorless punk on a whittled Slinky." Or, in same review: "Meanwhile, frontboy Stephen Malkmus made the preemptive Stroke: a cute diva who could scream as if he suffered from womb envy, his meticulous apathy "paved" (har! oh shit!) the way for Julian Casablancas' blase ferocity." Wow! How reflexively cute. Two words later, the reviewer, William Bowers, henceforth known as Pedantic Cocksucker, affixes the adjective "crenellated" to the "toss-offs" (songs) that comprise the LP. I don't know why everyone grows up to be assholes. Meanwhile, the
OK Computer review does allow this assertion: "It should be reiterated, however, just how much better
OK Computer is than
Loveless, and why people somehow forget this." They seem to forget this simple truism, the reviewer suggests (this, by the way, not Pedantic Cocksucker, but Dick N. Mouth), because inspired as
Loveless's beauty, tension, artifice and art are, it cannot compare to "Thom Yorke singing on his back staring at Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman's castle ceiling." This last sentence is quoted in the piece, which seems to suggest that he ripped it from some press release or another (and Mr. Mouth obliquely suggests same). Its inclusion in this review is baffling nonetheless. I'll tell you what, though, "God Only Knows" is certainly not the best song of the '60s. And neither is
Loveless the second best album of the '90s. And
Crooked Rain is better than
Slanted and Enchanted. I was relieved to see that no Oasis album made the cut. But so many other omissions, sinful omissions, remain. No
To Bring You My Love. No
Achtung Baby! (though it gets at least one negative reference in one of the reviews, probably P.C.'s). Alas, I'm not as young and cool as these whippersnappers at PF are. I'm a lowly caption slinger. If I had my finger on the pulse of cool, I would surely know that it will not be cool to like U2 for another decade or so at least. Though they will never be as cool as Daniel Johnston or Brian Wilson or Syd Barrett or Can or dead and/or disturbed people everywhere. Only one Polly Jean album,
Rid of Me. And no Afghan Whigs. And about six Stereolab records. And at least 17 Aphex Twin records. And
The Lonesome Crowded West ahead of, in order,
Exile in Guyville and
Summerteeth. I don't know. It's supposed to be fun. But I can't enjoy myself. Well, it's kinda fun.
