This entire conversation is taking part on social media. Exhibit one Beck’s Wikipedia page immediately after he won the Grammy for Album of the Year Exhibit two Beck’s early years Exhibit three Some dickhead from the Sydney Morning-Herald who should learn to spell people’s names correctly “Beyonce [sic] used a team of 25 writers and […]
Beck’s sheet music-only “album”, Song Reader, proved surprisingly divisive as a concept. Some lapped up the intended, vaguely Luddite reminder of pop music’s origins as a DIY and ephemeral home entertainment; others shuddered at the “vintage” flavour (liquorice and pomade) or found the prerequisites of musical literacy/ability and access to an instrument elitist. I was always in […]
Withered Hand excels where Beck flops simply by being himself - which, let's face it, is a difficult thing to be in a studio sometimes.
Phew. So lots and lots has happened between here and Xiu Xiu (th-thump, th-thump), and my private ledger of reviews to write has been swelling as subtly as my belly while I attended to other crucial real-life affairs. And meanwhile the parade of faces and sounds marches on and on – Perfect Pussy, in particular, […]
Damn it, Beck. It’s not that I – or anyone else at Collapse Board, for that matter – hate successful white guys with guitars. We’re just hard-pressed to find one that doesn’t bore us to tears or drive us nuts with their banal male sexuality. Nor is it true that there’s no place for sentimental […]
Pale Green Ghosts is an album as diverse and hilarious, as dying and alive, as life itself. What more could you ask for? Prior approval? Grow up. The music world is a lot bigger than Pitchfork, and there are far more interesting journeys to go on than the path from a publicist’s e-mail to a writer’s inbox.
Beck selling sheet music is like McDonald’s selling a recipe book. “Hey, we’re not going to sell you the Super-Ultra-Mega Big Mac, but you can buy our recipe book and make your own version.” Those recipes might even look complex on paper, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t consuming garbage.
I want to hear Beck songs played by elephants and by wind sculptures and London taxi cabs. Make it so!
You’ll notice I’m praising Bono as a lyricist here. Take a deep breath, agree, then move along.
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