As a canon-building exercise, The Pitchfork 500 completely succeeds on
its own terms. In profiling their 500
favorite songs of (roughly) the last thirty years, editors Scott Plagenhoef and
Ryan Schreiber both cast an extremely wide net and keep their focus firmly on
their audience. Just like the website
itself, the book builds upon a foundation of indie rock-leaning taste, which
attributes to the few holes in its coverage (R&B, jazz.) While students of any particular genre won’t
likely be surprised by the songs included—rap, for example, focuses on
touchstones like “They Reminisce Over You (T.R.O.Y.),” “Big Pimpin’” or “It
Takes Two,” while only throwing a couple curveballs like Luniz’ “I Got 5 On It”—most
of the fun comes from seeing your favorites rub up against iconic songs from
other corners of the musicverse.
“Nuthin’ But a ‘G’ Thang” doesn’t qualify as a particularly
earth-shattering pick in and of itself, but it begins to be more interesting
positioned next to Heavenly’s “C is the Heavenly Option” and Ween’s “Doctor
Rock.”
Pitchfork has impeccable taste for
sure, even if their ideology seems a lot like SPIN Magazine’s mid-90’s focus on the indie rock/electronica/rap
cool troika, free from the magazine publishers’ burden of having to cater to
corporate advertisers and major labels.
The 500 chosen songs provide a fun skeleton for the book, and give a new
twist on a publishing warhorse: The Record Guide. Plagenhoef and Schreiber even organize The Pitchfork 500 into a loosely
chronological 500 song playlist to give the book maximum front-to-back
readability. But, where delicately
choosing the songs for The Pitchfork 500
(as well as its numerous sidebars on sub-genres and topics such as “Selling
Advertising: Indie Songs in Commercials Shockah”) was an obvious labor of love,
the actual writing generally seems more like a chore.
Pitchforkmedia, the website, has
an uncanny knack for sending even the mildest internet music fan into a
back-biting frenzy. Their taste has been
called insular, their ratings system inconsistent, their writers elitist. Even the site’s defenders usually qualify
their defenses with acknowledgments of Pitchfork’s inconsistency or love of hyperbole. Of course, if they’re shooting at you, you’re
probably doing something right, and Pitchfork has demonstrably had a hand in
shaping the careers of some of the 21st centuries best musicians
(I’m looking at you, Broken Social Scene.) Yet, among the numerous unfair
complaints about Pitchfork, there are some legitimate
complaints: The reviews are sloppily
edited, if they’re edited at all; they sometimes struggle to articulate the
reasons behind their enthusiasm (or lack of enthusiasm); they have weaknesses
for certain types of artists (usually those of the droning variety.)
When Pitchfork announced that they
were publishing their first book, the real question wasn’t whether or not they
would pick the right songs to include.
Odds were that they would pick the right songs, but no one would admit
it. The real question was whether their
lackadaisical attitude toward actual, you know, writing would carry over to
their first book. Part of the reason for
the website’s success was that it was able to learn on its feet. The first couple of generations of Pitchfork
writers were rank amateurs who taught themselves to be music critics on the
job—and likely earned Pitchfork the reputation it still has today. In the past couple of years, however, Pitchfork
has attracted some phenomenal music critics—Douglas Wolk, Julianne Shepard, Tom
Ewing, Nate Patrin, to name a few—who have helped to increase the quality of
writing and thought on the site.
Publishing a book doesn’t really give you time for on-the job-training. A book is permanent; a website is fluid.
South Africa
The Pitchfork 500’s writers are
split between old-school Pitchfork cronies and critics who made their name
elsewhere before coming to Pitchfork, as well as a few hired guns. There’s no palpable difference in quality
between the two groups, though there is enormous inconsistency in the interest
levels of the contributors. If The
Pitchfork 500 is a statement that these are the greatest 500 songs of the last
30 years, each write-up should be an impassioned argument for WHY. Sometimes the write-ups are, and when they
are, they’re exhilarating. Joe Tangari
shed some new light on one of my favorite songs of all time: “‘Graceland’ mixes
its themes of love, loss and musical pilgrimage with an actual musical
pilgrimage [to
The editing, while infinitely
better than the editing on the website, still has plenty of sloppy points (like
Nitsuh Abebe citing hip-hop’s reign as “a quarter of a decade, and still
counting.”) But the editing doesn’t
bother (far be it from me to chastise anyone
for sloppy editing) as much as it simply points toward the book’s priorities:
the list of songs itself, and the knowledge of rock history needed to make the
list. These are undoubtedly The Pitchfork 500’s strong points, but
they make a much better case for formatting the book as a traditional record
guide rather than a loose narrative. The
book simply lacks the passion in the writing needed to make it anything more
than a clinical exercise, and because of that, the playlist structure only
makes the book less easy to use—though they do include an index, possibly in
place of a search engine.
That being said, The Pitchfork 500 is a great
resource. The writers are at the top of
their game in terms of knowing their shit (they might just be bored of saying
it.) Together, the songs make an
incredible tapestry of three decades of music.
Chase after the precedents and antecedents of any given song, and you’re
likely to find a wealth of great music.
Lesser known gems like Another Sunny Day’s “You Should All Be Murdered”
are given equal consideration as stone classics, as are critically neglected
favorites like Simple Minds’ “(Don’t You) Forget About Me” and Don Henley’s
“Boys of Summer.” Most of all, it’s a
direct challenge for you to dig around in the history of rock and build your
own 500, as rich and rewarding as this.
The book doesn’t have to be flawless to be inspiring.
-Martin Brown, 2008
Wow, Marty, you're *much* nicer about Pitchfork than I've ever been. I have no use for them, so I doubt this book and I will ever cross paths. It sounds like it could be an interesting read, though.
I'd honestly be *much* more interested in your top 500. I think it would be a much better read than the Pitchfork book!
Posted by: Kenny | 2008.11.20 at 14:22
I'll second the recommendation for MCStankbooty's hardbound top 500, collector's edition.
I always dug the Aphrodite remix of I Got 5 On It better than the original. At least I did when I was into jungle, which we all can agree was a very brief and confusing time.
I really enjoyed this read - thank you!
Posted by: Squidhelmet | 2008.11.20 at 16:17