Review of Zach Kelly’s Pitchfork Review
Rarely, but not too rarely, a Pitchfork review will perfectly encompass everything that is wrong with Pitchfork reviews. And, since we’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of “guilty pleasures” lately, it seemed only appropriate to review Zach Kelly’s review of the latest Sondre Lerche album.
To understand why this review is a poster child for everything that is wrong with Pitchfork, it is first necessary to understand the musician being reviewed. Sondre Lerche writes sentimental music. Sometimes it is even a bit sappy. It is music that makes 19-year-old girls swoon – sweepy strings, major-seventh chords all over the place, crooning sweet melodies. In other words, Pitchfork is not supposed to like him.
So, while reading Kelly’s review, we found it fascinating and humorous to watch him go through gyrations to explain the fact that he actually kind of liked the album. He praises it, then follows that praise with a cover-your-ass snide remark, just so the editors at Pitchfork won’t think he actually likes this sentimental crap. To wit:
[Lerche] has the good sense to pay close attention to arrangements and general songcraft on Heartbeat Radio, reinforcing his pleasant earnestness sufficiently enough that the heartsick sunniness sticks with you all afternoon, even when the actual songs themselves don’t always do the same.
OK, so Kelly liked the album, but the songs didn’t stick with him. Fair enough. But, it gets worse.
Even if a lot of Heartbeat Radio is affable and politely poppy, a lot of it is so pointedly bland that you can’t help but wonder if the good stuff stands out only because of the beige filler around it. That, or you’ve let your inner-cynic get the best of you. So if it seems to be a nice enough day outside and you’re not feeling particularly sinister, Heartbeat Radio should suffice nicely for a little while.
This is the closest Pitchfork ever comes to letting its readers see behind the proverbial curtain. Kelly’s inner struggle in that passage – admitting that maybe he really likes the music, but his “inner cynic” has gotten the better of him – is, frankly, depressing. How sad it must be to live in a world where you must constantly pretend you don’t like what you like because if you admit you like it, you will be mocked and judged by your peers.
So, Thriller would like to extend an invitation to Mr. Kelly. Write for us. You’ll never have to feel ashamed of what you like again.
