If anybody should make a photo book for the remainder tables of the future, it's Doug Coombe

Turn The Camera Around from Scott Allen on Vimeo.

Lasers & Headbands & Smiths Weekend

Two really outstanding shows this weekend. Friday at the Belmont, Lasers & Fast & Shit and Johnny Headband. Saturday, The Smiths United at the Berkley Front. Yes, yes.

Music Critics DO Suck

Yesterday I was e mailed the article "Why Music Critics Suck" by Kelly McClure. Aside from the potty-humor related giveaways (those who know me at all know the words "fart sandwich" would never, ever appear in anything I wrote - other than, for instance, to tell you how I'd never ever write that) the piece could have been written by me. Go read it, and then let's talk about it shall we?

All done? Ok. I appreciate McClure's honesty when she makes this point: "... when I sit down to type out a 150-200 word review, my primary goal is to show the reader how funny, cool, and clever I am. If they also come away with a rough idea of what an album sounds like, then whatever, I guess that’s cool too." Haha! It's funny because it's true! Have I been guilty of this myself as a music writer? There's no doubt. But to be fair, I think I'm way too much of an earnest nerd about music (and more importantly a nerd in general) to let that be my primary objective. So maybe I'm doing it wrong. Regardless, it certainly does seem to be the primary objective for a whole lot of music writer types.

In "Why Music Critics Suck" McClure does a little exercise where she flips to a review and critiques it. Because she encourages the reader to do this along at home, and because I like to follow instructions, I have done this as well. My review is of the new Panda Bear record Tomboy from the newest issue of Rolling Stone with Adele (who I totally don't get - but that's a whole different topic) on the cover. I figured this review would serve the purpose well since I've heard some of Panda Bear's music but nothing from this new record. Let's look at the first two sentences, shall we?
"Noah Lennox makes music swathed in so much synth noise, ambient voices and ricocheting stereophonic WTFs, it can feel like you're swept into a tidal wave of bong water. But life can feel that way too." Hmm. Yes. There is not a single part of that lead sentence that doesn't read like a first person account of a horrific drug induced seizure. It makes me feel sweaty and like I'm going to throw up. Oh, but now with that second sentence, you've opened it up into a metaphor about life. Well - now I get it. We can all relate to those bong water tidal wave days, right? I mean, how many of us haven't had a day that left us feeling like we were being washed away Katrina-style by a stagnant, stale, smoke scented wave of putrid liquid? This is life, people! And we're living it!

What about the rest of the review? Who cares. I already have a direct association between Panda Bear and bong water that will last me the rest Noah Lennox's career. Nice aversion therapy work, Rolling Stone. But I don't think the blame lies solely on the shoulders of the reviewer (in this case a Mr. Will Hermes). An editor - maybe even more than one editor - at Rolling Stone read that and said, "Yes. Let's print this in our magazine." Cool choice, editors.

Toward the end of her piece, McClure writes: "I personally can barely find it within myself to care about the memories and feelings of my closest friends, yet alone some critic who lives god knows where and looks like god knows what. Don’t tell me how an album makes you 'feel,' you jerkstore, just tell me how much it costs and I’ll figure out the rest." I agree with this sentiment, but would insert "tell me what it sounds like" for her "tell me how much it costs." I've never once looked to a review for price information. I have read a lot of complaint and criticism about reviews that compare a band or record to other bands or records, and I've never really understood why that's so wrong. First of all, forgive me, but since virtually everything had been done a hundred times before, nothing being created today is so amazingly unique as to allude any comparisons. Secondly, I really don't want to read more of your self-important overly-thesaurus reliant review than I have to. So the more I can get out of it with a cursory glance, the better a review it is. "Something, blah... blah... Trompe le Monde era Pixies meets Bad Brains..." Ok! Let's listen to that! "Something, blah... blah... meandering melodies with superfluous smokey overtones swirled with ether..." Jesus Christ. NEXT!

I'm pretty excited about this Collapse Board business though. I think we'll get along well. Go to there and see what you think...

This Saturday - THIS is where you should be.

Read my interview with the bands over at the Metro Times Music Blahg. I'm really proud to be a part of this - not in a bragging way. Ok, kind of in a bragging way. I think that's acceptable.

Coney Island Sounds

I have a confession to make: I didn't know that Coney Island restaurants were a "Michigan/Detroit thing" until just a couple of years ago. But this isn't really a surprise, right? I grew up here. I've always known about Coney Islands. I'm not sure at what point I was supposed to say, "I bet these kinds of restaurants are unique to my region and do not exist elsewhere."

Thankfully, the people at Single Barrel Detroit are cooler about Coney Islands than I am. That is why they had the bright idea to film both Wildcatting and Bars Of Gold playing in the two most iconic Coney Islands in all the land (I can't totally verify this, but I feel it in my bones that it is correct): American and Lafayette. These iconic Coneys also happen to be right next to each other - if you type their addresses into Google maps, it actually tells you your travel time of 36 feet will take one second.



Man, do I want cheese fries right now...

This is gonna be us. This is gonna be our shoes.

This summer we will not be making our own computer out of macaroni pieces (you're weird, Regina Spektor), we will be doing this.

Standing at the door of self discovery...

I have a feeling I will not like this movie seeing as the whole "white-guy-midlife-crisis-poignant-comedy-with-life-lessons" genre makes me want to punch a white person. However, I WAS excited to hear Detroit's High Strung playing as I wondered if Laura Dern was wearing a wig in this preview. "Standing At The Door Of Self Discovery" is a fitting song for the subject matter of this movie film, yes? For the inclusion of a good Detroit band, I'll even consider going to see this. If somebody buys me popcorn. And prozac.