My friends and I have a long-running bet about where Pitchfork gets its writers from. St. Maria's School for the Grumpy Deaf? A work-release program for recovering gasoline-huffing addicts? The annual meeting of the Bitter, Failed Musicians Organization?
But not until Rob Mitchum's horrid review of the Desaparecidos' Read Music - Speak Spanish have I felt compelled to write. Never I have a read such a wrongheaded, closed-minded, biased, bumblefuck, all-around wrong review. Shame on you, Mr. Mitchum. Shame on you, Pitchfork.
For starters, what the hell was that lead? I can't for the life of me figure out what the grandmother from "Who's the Boss?," the chemical properties of sodium, and the writer's Little League memories have to do with the Desaparecidos. And that joke about a nun, a box of banana bread mix, and Conor Oberst? Completely tasteless and irrelevant.
At least once he finally started talking about the music, he got the basic facts right (must've spent a few minutes on the Saddle Creek website). Desaparecidos is, in fact, Oberst taking a break from Bright Eyes by putting together a full band and "cranking up the rock knob," as Mitchum so poetically puts it. However, your assertion that Oberst has simply exchanged ripping off Jeff Mangum for ripping off Gene Simmons is completely unfounded and unfair.
In fact, the entire review is permeated with an obvious distaste for the work of Oberst, despite Mitchum's elitist claim that he "kind of likes Fevers and Mirrors in an inner teenager sort of way." Backhanded compliments like "the distortion-heavy setting at least makes Oberst's emotional breakdown vocal theatrics seem somewhat more believable" or "this time around, Oberst chooses to read from the diary labeled Super Terrible Political Injustices rather than the one labeled Girls Who Broke My Heart" imply a grudge against anything Bright Eyes-related, invalidating the writer's entire opinion. Why would Pitchfork assign an album to someone who isn't going to like it?
Perhaps if Rob Mitchum had given the album a fair shot, he wouldn't be so quick to write off the inter-song sound clip segues as "devices so unoriginal, they're older than Oberst himself." As if making fun of Oberst's age hasn't been done to death, asshole. I personally think that the tape recorded conversations about urban sprawl and the television commercials sprinkled throughout "$$$$$" nicely underscore the theme of the album, unlike your "writer," who says he'll "bet anyone ten dollars that Naomi Klein's No Logo is sitting on Oberst's bedside table right this second."
And don't even get me started on Mitchum's music commentary, which ranges from describing the riff of "Mall of America" as "a metalhead practicing scales in a guitar store" to writing off "Man and Wife, the Latter" as "a less intelligent Zack de la Rocha fronting Puddle of Mudd." You need to clean out your ears, wax-man. Conor has said in interviews that Desaparecidos is all about the ROCK-- about playing loud music and sending out an in-your-face political message. Just because a band isn't gazing at their shoes all day and playing their guitar through 38 effects pedals doesn't mean they're "Mongoloid metal." Cock.
Mitchum's so hellbent on being clever and pleasing your bloodthirsty audience that he can't even unconditionally praise the songs he claims to enjoy. Oh, he'll admit that the melody and energy of "The Happiest Place on Earth" is "irresistible," but then he has to go and pan lyrics like "opiate of the populace" and "our freedom comes at their expense" as being "less resonant than the latest Rollins Band album." And since he can't find anything to dislike about the blistering punk and keyboard mixture of "Manana," he claims that he only likes it because "Oberst's singing is so slurred that it shields the listener from the gut-wrenching lyrics."
Pretty much the whole misguided appraisal of Read Music - Speak Spanish stems from your conclusion that "Oberst shows occasional, genuine skill as a talented songwriter, but he's constantly tripped up by taking himself way, way, way too seriously." Heh, I'm sure Pitchfork writers never, ever take themselves too seriously, do they? I think your real problem, Mr. Mitchum, is your unwillingness to accept the political truths of which Conor Oberst speaks, all content in your comfortable little status quo world. You disgust me. If Schreiber knows what he's doing, he'll can Mitchum's hack ass and find someone who gives a fuck.
P.S. - Are you guys looking for new writers right now? Let me know; I've got some samples I can send over.
