• “Marks and Tannebaum always liked to say that their favorite rockmag was the legendary Creem, and for sure Blender—with all commercial compromises and vulgarisms acknowledged (for its time, Creem had plenty of those as well)—came much closer to that ideal than any other current mag. It was intelligent yet written for ordinary fans, very funny, and the Sheffield column that Levy instituted was some of the best work he’d ever done. I was happy there, and I’ll miss it as a writer, a reader, and a rock critic elder. After a long downturn, Spin (which Marks also once edited) has gotten better over the past few years, but I wouldn’t bet it’ll have the humility to morph over toward the Blender model as it continues to do battle with the also-shrinking Stone. In this economy not to mention tomorrow’s, who’s hiring?” [Robert Christgau]

• “The shocking part is that I had figured Blender was the most commercially savvy one in the music-magazine market—they built their business on photos (especially of scantily clad pop starlets), best-ever/worst-ever/most-outrageous sorts of lists, titillation and trivia, backed up for credibility with a review section full of some of the best working music writers struggling (for a good paycheque) to squeeze wit and insight into tiny little capsule reviews. I hated its glibnesss, but it wasn’t snobby—it was pro-pop, pro-hip-hop and pro-indie all at once—and it certainly seemed saleable; if even they can’t survive, I’m not sure there really is a music magazine market. Curiously, a lot of the more niche-oriented publications—rap magazines and metal magazines in particular—seem to be doing well still, when I thought they’d probably be the most easily displaced by fan sites and blogs. Perhaps cliqueishness (and even snobbishness) is actually a safer marketing bet?” [Carl Wilson]

• “While Blender may have been an easy target for some, with its often gratuitously skin-baring covers and plethora of jokey lists, it also offered a valuable mainstream forum for discussing music, and contained plenty of good writing. (Yes, of course, I’m biased.) Even if you didn’t like Blender’s editorial style, it featured robust, challenging opinions, and the magazine rarely kowtowed to the tyranny of critics’ darlings. No more Blender magazine means some kid isn’t going to pick up a copy at the 7-11 because he thinks Katy Perry looks hot on the cover, end up reading about Mastodon, and have his mind blown. And that sucks.” [Amy Phillips]

• “Guess what? More colleagues looking for work.” [Alfred Soto]

• “It gave reviews of good Indie rock and movies and had people like Jack Black on the cover. Then it seemed to change demographics and went the hip hop and R&B route. Every cover had either P Diddy, Janet Jackson or Little Wayne on it. This was not the magazine that gave me insight to new music and movies.” ["Ki"] (Sigh. Well, it’s time for a drink, no?)

Not only did Wilson get to go on TV, he got the privilege of appearing on one of the funniest shows ever. Wilson acquits himself nicely, though an early mention of repulsion at Dion’s music is the type of thing that Colbert feeds off and keeps coming back to. The best part is Wilson’s mention of Dion’s treatment of crew and fans as a family (including the hiring of her family to work for her) and how they see her as very “real,” while outsiders think of her as “phony.” This scans with someone who had worked with Dion grousing at me for dissing her offhandedly; the person said that she treated her crew and backing musicians like family, paying them well, and that she was never anything less than courteous and even had a really goofball sense of humor.

The interview ends a tad abruptly, though Wilson’s observation on the problem with liking something ironically is worthy of further thought. Colbert asks if Wilson, as a hipster critic, shouldn’t like Celine Dion ironically. Wilson, decrying sarcastic views of taste, says, “The problem with taste is that we turn the people behind artworks into stereotypes.” Boy… uh, I’ve, uh, never done that before.

Also, Colbert invented a band name: Ogre Milk. Look for a band named in honor of this joke to be all over the blogs by the time SXSW is over.

The Colbert Report: March 4, 2009 [Hulu]
Celine Dion’s Let’s Talk About Love: A Journey To The End Of Taste [Amazon]
Celine Dion Is Amazing [YouTube]

What’s not to love about James Franco? He seems like a refugee from the ’90s, he’s totally dreamy, and he was in my No. 3 movie of last year. (No, not Milk.) Normally a Hollywood actor professing not to watch TV because he’s “in a lot of classes right now” would come off as pretentious, but instead of offering up embarrassing freshman-year platitudes, Franco mentions that he’s reading Carl Wilson’s Celine Dion-centric entry in the 33 1/3 series, even giving a fairly accurate summation of the book’s premise. As David Barker, the series’ editor, put it, “a 33 1/3 book was discussed on the red carpet” is “not a phrase I ever envisioned myself typing.”

One certainly got a feeling that the book had broken out beyond music-nerd circles, but it’s very interesting to see just how far it’s gone. Not to say that Franco’s mention will necessarily trigger a rush to Amazon amongst Oscar-watchers (though Wilson opens the book with a discussion of Celine’s appearance on the 1998 Oscars alongside Elliot Smith, so there’s a certain appropriateness to Franco bringing it up last night), but it certainly speaks to the book’s resonance that it was mentioned at an event whose main purpose is to celebrate consensus and common knowledge.

It’s also interesting because, for music nerds on the Internet around 2003 or 2004, the two main points of contention were M.I.A. and popism. The arguments reached a point that some started arguing for their essential irrelevance, that no one cared about these sort of things outside the music-crit bubble. Well, last night, M.I.A. was nominated for an Oscar, and a book (partially) about popism was mentioned on the red carpet. It goes to show you never can tell, huh?

James Franco Has No Time For TV [MTV, via 33 1/3]

80. Andrew W.K., “McLaughlin Groove”
79. Elvis Costello puts his trust in Fall Out Boy
78. Wye Oak, “I Want for Nothing”
77. Nine Inch Nails’ flood of digitally distributed music
76. TV on the Radio, “Golden Age”
75. Journey welcomes the Web 2.0 Era (and a new singer) with open arms
74. Jenny Lewis, “Acid Tongue”
73. Radiohead scores the year’s strangest Top 40 hit
72. The Music Tapes at Athens Popfest, August 2008
71. Kanye, Lily, Pete, and Courtney form their own blogger nation
70. French Kicks, Swimming
69. Soundscan: down for the recount
68. Make It Stop! The Most of Ross Johnson
67. Parry Gripp, “Hamster on a Piano (Eating Popcorn)”
66. Okay, Huggable Dust
65. Mariah Carey, “Touch My Body”
64. 360 deals make heads spin
63. Daniel Amos, Darn Floor Big Bite
62. Cut Copy, In Ghost Colours
61. Solange, Sol-Angel and the Hadley St. Dreams
60. The Numa Numa Dance revival
59. The Gaslight Anthem, The ‘59 Sound
58. ’90s alt-rock memoirs
57. Larry Norman and Sonseed
56. Sheryl Crow, “Shine Over Babylon”
55. DJ Koze
54. David Cook beats David Archuleta on American Idol
53. T-Pain, Thr33 Ringz
52. Perez Hilton Vs. Sony BMG: slapfight!
51. Justin Moore’s “Back That Thing Up” video
50. Optimo’s mix CDs
49. Extra Golden live at the Caledonia Lounge, Athens, GA, June 2008
48. Jamey Johnson, That Lonesome Song
47. Daveigh Chase sings “The Happiest Girl in the Whole USA” on HBO’s Big Love
46. Gnarls Barkley and the Raconteurs race each other to the record store
45. Pete Wentz tries to save the music video with FNMTV
44. R&B’s breakbeat vogue
43. Jobromance!
42. Dennis Wilson, Pacific Ocean Blue (Legacy Edition)
41. Miley Cyrus, “See You Again”
40. Max Martin and Dr. Luke infiltrate rock radio
39. Of Montreal get Skeletal
38. Poplife Presents Poplife Sucks
37. Alec Foege, Right of the Dial and Taylor Clark, Starbucked
36. Major labels fail to kill the single—again
35. Velvet Revolver brings the drama
34. Blake Leyh makes us listen closer to The Wire
33. Soulja Boy Tell ‘Em, “Yahhh!”
32. The end of TRL
31. The old-skool rave revival
30. Ida Maria, “Oh My God”
29. Fred Schneider on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart
28. CMT’s Can You Duet
27. ’90s reunion fever
26. Estelle makes her way across the ocean
25. John Darnielle’s Master of Reality and Carl Wilson’s Let’s Talk About Love: A Journey to the End of Taste
24. Girl Talk, Feed the Animals
23. Santogold, “Lights Out”
22. Summer festival glut
21. Monotonix live in Baltimore
20. James Sullivan, The Hardest Working Man: How James Brown Saved the Soul of America
19. Be Your Own Pet, “Becky”
18. Kanye West’s aesthetics
17. “Vinyl is back!”
16. Global reissues bonanza
15. Beyoncé, “Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)”
14. Rickrolling rolls on
13. M.I.A., “Paper Planes”
12. Alphabeat get “wonky”
11. The year of the remix
10. R. Kelly goes to court
9. Jarvis Cocker at Pitchfork Festival, Chicago, July 2008
8. The Ron Clark Academy, “You Can Vote However You Like”
7. Portishead, Third
6. Prince at Coachella Festival, April 2008
5. Erykah Badu, New Amerykah Part One (4th World War)
4. Guitar Hero / Rock Band
3. A very musical Presidential election
2. Lil Wayne: All things to all people
1. Ne-Yo, Year Of The Gentleman

HEARTBREAKS
1. Mamma Mia Misses The Essence Of ABBA (Kate Richardson)
2. The Death of Baltimore Club Music’s Queen, DJ K-Swift (Al Shipley)
3. The blogosphere as the new status quo (Lucas Jensen)
4. Britney Spears on the 2008 MTV VMAs (Molly McAleer)
5. Be Your Own Pet breaks up (Mike Barthel)
6. Everyone in the music business losing their freakin’ jobs (Michaelangelo Matos)
7. Guns N’ Roses, Chinese Democracy (Maura Johnston)
8. John Rich shills for the GOP (Chuck Eddy)

I should also point out that I am friendly with both John Darnielle, who turned Black Sabbath’s Master of Reality into a novella, and Carl Wilson, who spends his 33 1/3 investigating his and most of his friends’ disregard for Celine Dion through the lens of Let’s Talk About Love, i.e. the one with the Titanic song. But that’s not why I love these books. It’s because both were written keenly and with great generosity by writers who never place themselves above the material—even Wilson, who specifically proposed his topic because he had looked down on it for so long.

Darnielle, of course, is a longstanding metal guy—he’s written the back page of Decibel magazine since its inception—and Master of Reality is a testament to the raw, consuming, identity-statement sort of fandom that isn’t exclusive to metal but flourishes within it. Roger Painter is Darnielle’s narrator-hero; he’s 15 and in a ward receiving treatment following a suicide attempt, attended by people seem to think his music is part of the problem; the first half of the book is Roger’s attempt to persuade them to give him back his Walkman and his favorite Sabbath cassette.

In high school, I had a good friend who spent several weeks in the same kind of adolescent psychiatric center Roger is in; we talked a lot on the phone and I visited him a couple times. Darnielle’s book brought back everything—the feel, the smell, the tenuous sense of order—I had forgotten about the place, so much so I had to put the book down a few times to get my bearings again. Equally fine is the way the second half, narrated by the adult Roger, describes his job in a kitchen; Darnielle glosses over nothing, and he doesn’t treat the everyday as any more magical than it actually is (i.e. not very), but he gets at the sustaining aspects of small satisfactions in ways you don’t expect, that stay with you. Somewhere in heaven, Studs Terkel is smiling.

Wilson ponders other kinds of questions. He doesn’t simply hold Dion up to the light—among many things, he also holds up the mass audience, the idea of schmaltz (that chapter alone ought to be required reading for anyone who purports to write criticism, of pop music or anything else), and the effect of set and setting on an artist’s works. I’m thinking there of the amazing sequence when the author, coming off a bad breakup, is reduced to tears by seeing Dion in Vegas—the last time or place in the world he expects to be so deeply moved—as well as his fascinating explication of Dion’s essential Quebecois-ness.

Besides, how can we possibly argue with anything that gives us the excuse to post this January ‘08 masterpiece?

33 1/3 [33third.blogspot.com]
Celine Dion is amazing [Four Four]
80 ‘08 (and heartbreak)

First, Powers’ “Pop music critics embrace the mainstream,” which ran on Sunday alongside Scott Timberg’s feature on the American arts’ continuing high-low collapse. Powers, as ever, has the overview:

This atmosphere of openness is mostly fantastic, but characteristically, pop critics have found a way to turn it confrontational. Prefer Ray LaMontagne to Toby Keith? You’re an NPR-listening square! Irritated by T-Pain? You’re a Luddite! Sick of Fergie? You’re sexist! And just as many critics take the opposite stance, with equal righteous vigor.

In the past, our debates were sort of like sumo-style tummy bashes — a young Turk would stand up to the old guard and good-naturedly push his opponent out of the ring. Now, it’s more like the scrum in rugby. Everybody pushes against everybody else, and we move forward in a huge blob of vehement opinion and mutual judgment.

Powers’ talk about covering American Idol prompted Wade Tatangelo of Tampa’s Creative Loafing to point out the monetary aspects of such coverage:

Ann Powers wrote a fine essay . . . But she failed to mention that a potential reason daily music critics like the St. Petersburg Times’ Sean Daly are covering cheap reality TV like American Idol (Powers does, too, but more likely by choice, see below) is because they are no longer in a position to tell populist/desperate editors “no.” Arts critics are being laid off at even a faster clip than reporters. In fact, there’s not a single music critic job opening at a daily newspaper in the entire nation. I know critics rank right alongside lawyers in the receiving of sympathy department, but it’s grim folks.

Carl Wilson of the Toronto Globe and Mail and the blog Zoilus weighed in on both Powers’ piece and Tatangelo’s reply:

There’s something to [Tatangelo's point] – I remarked in my book that unlike, say, an academic specialist, a working critic has to address a broad audience, and one who wrote only about the ultra-weird and never about the popular eventually would be out of a job. In the book I add “(rightly)”, but it’s debatable.

Certainly I know people who’ve been required professionally to review shows they wouldn’t have volunteered to watch. Tatangelo says that a couple of years ago he quit a job rather than cover Idol–and that he’s not sure he would feel emboldened to make a similar move today.

But wait, imagine a film critic who proudly resigns his job rather than write about a popular movie or genre of movies–say, movies based on comic books. Would we think that guy was a hero, or kind of an asshole? Wouldn’t we point to great film critics who have written favorably or unfavorably about blockbuster popcorn flicks and found insightful aesthetic and social analyses there? If you’re being told what to say by your editors, that is cause to make a stand; if you’re being asked to cover a major phenomenon in your field, that’s the job, bucko. Granted, in the more flush past of newspapering, you’d probably have been able to slough off lower-status assignments to the junior critic, and today there usually is no junior critic. And nothing against Tatangelo making life choices that make him happier. But there’s a boon to critics being pushed out of their aesthetic habits to observe what’s happening out in what remains of the mainstream – it gives us the function of conducting that cross-conversation about common cultural objects that those lamenters of the semi-mythical, semi-extinct monoculture say they miss.

Still, the most salient point of all may be from Marc Hogan’s Tumblr, in which the freelancer (best known for his contributions to Pitchfork) spells it out even more plainly:

As anyone who knows anyone who has blogged about “American Idol” knows, you get more clicks blogging about “American Idol” than blogging about Steinski, Harvey Milk, or Fleet Foxes. So it’s not as if the turning tide toward “poptimism” among critics who want to be paid for our work is entirely un-self-interested.

Pop music critics embrace the mainstream [LAT]
Debating Ann Powers, poptimism and American Idol [Creative Loafing Tampa]
Forced to Write About American Idol? Call Our Help Line Now [Zoilus]
“As anyone who’s read . . . “ [Offnotesnotes]