Canon Fodder

I remember a time when not having heard of a great band or solo artist or record or song (or some more significant piece of history, for that matter) reflected poorly on the ignorant party. But the internet's history-of-human-endeavor-as-infinite-uncurated-landfill approach to culture has shifted the burden of proof onto the enthusiast, even to the art itself. Which is fair enough, I suppose. But despite what you may have heard, art's job is not to advocate, or fight for cultural primacy, or argue its own merits. Lucky thing all these smart writers are still around to do that work for, and with, and in spite of us.

Not to be a reactionary utopian or anything. I know there's no time for that kind of thing anymore. But it's still my brain's default mode: the conversation about music—and canons and unjustly undiscovered artists and interesting failures and overrated successes and songs you simply can't even imagine what the point of life would be without them—is ongoing, perpetual, and necessary, regardless of what other topics might be trending.

At their best, critics are defenders and advancers of culture, accountable to nobody but the audience and the muse. That’s what makes them great, and it’s also what makes them difficult, like the artists they are...Without critics, culture resonates. With critics, it sings.

We are only as good as our critics: that’s the guiding principle for those of us who believe that generative discourse and dissent play an essential role in our imagination ecology, as they do in a democracy (as a former critic myself, I’m a true believer). The critic provides cultural, political, and aesthetic context, and defends that which is deeply personal—taste—with actual analysis.

...it’s not the listener’s fault if they miss out on something that will change their lives – these days, anyone can gain access to a library of over 15 million songs on demand for free.