Remember in Animal House where at the Toga Party, John Belushi snatches an acoustic guitar from a folk singer, smashes it to pieces and then shrugs sorry before moving on?
That's what I feel like doing every time I hear Bon Ivers.
I was trying to promote this woman when I first heard For Emma, Forever Ago and she loved it so I tried to, or at least I couldn't get away from it so I had to try and get used to it. The best thing about the chick cancelling my subscription was it freed me to never listen to it again. And except when it shows up on a shuffle, I've done pretty well at missing it en tout. maybe somebody somewhere has time for this miserable fuck, but it ain't me (babe). From "Woods" to "Blood Banks" and back I think he is unbearable. I couldn't stomach him on "Lost In The World" (the worst of 20 Kanye West tracks last year) and I loath "Calgary" and streamed it three times so far and hated the lot.
So I am not surprised at Mark Richardson's (if that is, indeed, his name) ridiculous 9.5 out of 10 review of Bon's mind boggling tedious self titled new platter dropping (but not near me) self titled, sophomore effort.
What is it with Pitchfork writers. Are they serious? Rolling Stone writers are sycophants to the cause, Pitchfork writers are longwinded arbitrators of good taste.
Here is Mark in action: " He simultaneously evokes the grain and expression of soul music along with the mythological echoes of folk." No he doesn't, he evokes a schoolkid who has just been mugged for his milk money. He evokes a tedious, solipsistic, insufferable sadness. Oh, and kind we knock off the Brian Wilson references. Not everybody who uses harmony evokes Brian Wilson. This dullard doesn't in the slightest.
I'd like to grab Richardson by the scruff of his neck and smack his head into Bon Iver's fucking guitar.
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