December is a very special time for critics of all types. The end of the year means it's time to start rounding up all the best albums of the year and rank them based on arbitrary criteria, creating the narrative of what 2011 "was" in music. It's actually very exciting, so long as you don't get knee-deep in the hooplah. My colleague, professional character assassin James Leask wrote a very insightful article about the nature of year-end lists. When I was starting this site, I used some of the 2010 year-end lists as a shopping guide for what I'd cover for this blog.
I won't, obviously, be compiling a year-end list. There's a lot of great stuff I simply did not hear this year. All the albums from 2011 that I loved can be found here, and that list is sure to keep growing. And for a more expansive list of albums that I heard for the first time in 2011, you can click here. I wrote a top four countdown for 2010 because it was a very short list. The reason I started this blog was because I had indulged in so little music enjoyment that year, so it was easy to sort. Then I wrote about them because I wanted to start off with a bit of content for the site.
I can't rank the albums I've listened to this year, just like I can't ascribe them star-ratings. Every single album I talk about on this blog is a recommendation from me, so it's useless to put those on a scale. That's sort of the point. Every album is a new challenge. Sometimes what you already know helps you approach it, sometimes you need to take it as something utterly unknown. To me, they don't compete, there's no reason to try making them.
I spent 2011 listening to music. As a result, I've got about 50 new albums etched in my memory, which invoke feelings and thoughts, that take me back to a time of the year, whether it's shoveling my driveway to Tokyo Police Club, baking in the sun to Foster the People, sitting at work with the Sheepdogs or at the end of a 12-hour bus ride from New York City with the Hold Steady. I spend a lot of time in my head arguing with other critics, and the thing I hate most is when music is not treated as something you listen to: its important qualities are all there in your headphones.
I try to understand and appreciate every album I write about as completely as possible. Usually I fail. I don't want to insult too many of my old reviews, but sometimes I just feel like I didn't quite get it right;... and sometimes I revisit an album after the review is done and something new will occur to me.
I read a fair bit of criticism, as you must. A lot of the albums I've covered this year are acknowledged classics. Some are hidden gems, some true obscurities. Some have been actively dismissed or derided. I think the albums I have the most fun reviewing are the ones that didn't get great notices, because that means all the things that excite me about them haven't been explored by better writers. One of the strangest moments I had was when I realized all the negative things people were saying about White Lies (and later Viva Brother) were true... but I couldn't stop listening to either album anyway, and I needed to talk about them.
I set myself up with a set of loose guidelines at the beginning of the year, and thankfully I haven't found myself constrained by them. They act as a buzzer that goes off in my head whenever I realize I'm writing something I would not like to read, that my review is wandering into territory I'd rather not explore. I'm free to ignore them, but I'm always happier with the results when I keep with them. I never bothered to write them out, and I feel like explaining them might ruin my mojo, but if you go back and read my reviews (and maybe read other critics' takes on the same albums) you might be able to tell what some of them are.
It begins and ends with positivity. I realized, not long after starting (but later than I should have) that there's a difference between some asshole on the internet and a critic, and it isn't intelligence. Leave negativity to every other dickhead. Let them be the ones to tear things down. Let the critic's role be defined by how good we are at building things up. I realize this isn't a reality for critics who don't get to pick and choose their subject matter, but it can't be healthy to decide to go after things you won't like. In general, I'm pleased with myself for keeping the positivity, and never feeling like I have to fake it because I genuinely like everything I write about. Also, the commitment to positivity extends to a certain amount of amnesty to things I don't like: I try not to take cheap shots because I don't believe you do something you like any favours by insulting something you don't. It sounds maybe a bit sanctimonious when I write it out at length, but I want you all to know there are reasons why I do things the way I do, and hopefully you come here because you get it.
I spent the year listening to music, but more importantly, I spent the year enjoying music. I didn't take the music and wrestle with it, try to disarm it and figure out a reason it wasn't as good as my gut felt. I went with that gut feeling and tried to lay it all out on the table, to open it up, pull out the guts and dance around merrily in the blood of the music. And to write metaphors that get off track quickly. And to have fun.
I like what I do here, and I hope to get better at it in the coming year. I want to keep bringing people music they might not have found otherwise, or encouraging them on albums they weren't sure they'd like. I get a fairly decent number of hits every month (for a site that is advertised nowhere but Twitter and Google, reviewing albums that aren't generally up-to-the-minute,) so I hope that I've gotten one or two of you to listen to an album you otherwise wouldn't. And never feel bad for liking something. Anyone who tries to do that to you is being an asshole.
In 2012, I just want to keep on rockin'
-Scotto
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