As the editor of HM Magazine, I occasionally get a “letter to the editor,” where someone is upset about an album review. I’ve shared the story before about the day in 2003 when the band Switchfoot took the staff of HM Magazine out for dinner (some fine BBQ at Stubb’s in Austin). On the way to the restaurant, I got a phone call from my best friend, Steve Rowe, who was upset with me about a recent album review of his band’s latest album. He told me that, for Mortification, the most important album review and possibly the only one that mattered to the band in terms of sales was their album review in HM Magazine. If it was bad, it could spell disaster for the album’s lifespan. If it was good, it could help and spur on album sales. I spent the 5-10 minutes walking from my not-secret-anymore parking spot near the corner of 12th and Red River to the Stubb’s venue on 9th and Red River explaining to Steve that I understood his pain, but that I chose to give my writers the freedom to write what they want. It was very difficult for me to hear his heart and understand how my magazine had perhaps cost him several paychecks. I stood behind my writer’s review, even if I did not agree with his opinion on the album.
The experience was about to get worse, though, as the singer for Switchfoot was having a conversation around the same time with his wife. He was excited to tell his wife back home on the telephone that the band was taking “the guys at HM Magazine out to dinner.” Her response startled him.
“You’re taking THEM out to dinner ??? After what THEY said about YOU?!?!”
She had read the album review that had just come out in HM Magazine Issue #99, which was written by a former HM intern that I’d worked with who was going to school in Austin. This reviewer said: “…this album (The Beautiful Letdown) was perfectly named … and I’m not talking about the words “The” or “Beautiful.” He went on to compare the album to the band’s previous three full-lengths, so I accepted and printed his review. He stated an opinion, which happened to be negative, but he backed it up with references to the band’s previous recorded output. That’s basic reviewing technique right there: Make a statement but back it up and explain your statement.
He read it at the table and noticed my rating of 2.5 out of 5. “What did you not like about it?” he asked me. “I explained as best I could in front of the whole band, my staff and the publicist for the label that had flown in for this show and event with us. “Aye-yi-yi!” Talk about uncomfortable. Wow. I’m thinking, ‘David Allen gave it a 2 out of 5. Why didn’t he ask him for an explanation?!’ David said he learned heaps from watching this take place. That was awkward, but I stood behind my writer.
I’m not the thought police. I never plan on being that or playing that role. I won’t tell my writers what to think. Recently, a couple of my writers tore into 3 or 4 recent albums. One of the reviews I pulled for space reasons, which was the worst of the whole bunch. But today a label guy sent me a message about the review for Rodent Emporium. He thought it was ill-informed. Last week another label guy wrote me about the Dark Lay Still album review, which our writer gave a 1.5 and I gave a 4 (I love having the ability to add another “voice” to a review with our rating system). Neither of these guys were happy. Of course, they are personally involved and have a stake in the health of these respective albums and their sales.
Here’s my reply to all such scenarios:
An album review is just one person’s opinion. It’s great to get praise and it can be helpful to get criticism (if it’s constructive). But even destructive and vindictive album reviews can be good. I’ve been told many times by people that regularly read album reviews that “they only care about the reviews that are really positive or really negative. Anything in the middle usually doesn’t tell them anything.” If it’s really good or bad, they want to hear the album to see if they agree or find out why the writer said what they did.
My job as an editor is not to tell my reviewer/writer what to write or think about an album. That, to me, is just ridiculous. My job, though, besides editing said reviews and making sure everything’s spelled accurately and such, is to match the album with a reviewer that’s capable and well-suited to offer an informed opinion. For example, I’m not the best person in the world to review a Country album. I don’t have a lot of experience in listening to that genre to evaluate it fairly. That’s a big deal for me, too: reviewing an album and judging it fairly in its context. If a follower of Nirvana/Pearl Jam reviewed a hair metal album in the early ’90s and laid waste to it because it was “dated” and “uncool,” that was not a fair evaluation. A hair metal album should be held up and evaluated in light of its genre, not its popularity at the moment.
I disagreed with the Rodent Emporium review and some of the things it said. I disagreed with the Dark Lay Still album review. With both I thought I had found a good fit between album and reviewer. The jury is still out on that question, but my point is that I don’t pull a review from a writer because I may or may not like what they said.
There’s also the whole concept of “controversy sells.” Anytime people start arguing about something, a crowd will usually gather to see the fight. This kind of attention is sometimes better than a glowing review. If some writer Lester Bangs an album to shreds, it might get people who disagree to rise up and cause a stir, which will draw more attention to the album and it can obviously benefit from that.
My bottom line, though, is that a review should be honest. It should be aware of its audience and the genre/scene within which it’s communicating. If all album reviews were good, what would result? A lot of people deceiving themselves, for one; and a pretty bland musical landscape. A bad review helps provide a perspective to judge the good by, too.
“You can tear a building down,
but you can’t erase a memory…”
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