November 30, 2000
I didn't get nearly as much response as I expected from my little rant about the state of music criticism. But a few hardy souls plowed through the thing and offered comments, which are presented below. I edited out portions that had little or nothing to do with the subject at hand (hello-how-are-you's and other pleasantries, review pitches, gratuitous but accurate observations about how brilliant I am, etc.) and corrected spelling and grammar errors; otherwise, I left the commentary as is. My replies appear below each letter. 
From Brian Yaeger, publicist for HoopLA PR:
I squarely fall into that pool of people who feel passionately about music, but wasn't blessed with the talent to create it, just to cover it (2 weeks of calluses & those chords were soon forgotten.)
I am not a contributor to local or popular rags, but did kick-start my own zine over 2 years ago, completely spur of the moment. And as a rock, punk, power-pop, folk, dot dot dot aficionado, it's curious that such inspiration came from watching Itzhak Perlman with a bunch of popular klezmer (sic) bands. The result is Potpourri & Roses, which, while guilty of some "glib bullshitting," isn't intended to curry favor w/ (now fellow) industry weasels or to stroke my own pen, but hopefully to turn some kids on to not just new bands, but new styles, at least new to said kid. As a free zine, you know I don't make money, but am pleased to almost break even. It's fun.
But now, after these 2 years, I am hanging up the print version of Potpourri & Roses which even landed in the new Zine Guide surveys and simultaneously launching an e-zine, which will be found at www.b-rockmagazine.com. I can't live without such a "time-waster" as you put it. But your Bangs bio brought on another (of the frequent) moments of introspection about why I'm pretending to contribute to the music realm. My conclusion is always that, much like this election, my ballot, my voice, does contribute to the underground scene. And, you know, free swag is nice.
That brings me back to my publicist side. I understand the need, as a writer, to review noteworthy albums. I know you, as a writer, are trained to smell bullshit like a Panamanian drug-sniffing dog. But I'm fortunate enough to work with artists who, as you put it, are about the art not the profit.
[pitches records he's working]
So there's my pitch. But know that this email is rooted in the intent to say "hey, I get it." As a publicist and a critic (I don't like applying that term to myself), thanks & keep up the good work.
Thanks for your comments, Brian. I wish I could say I share your confidence in contributing to the underground press. I'm not nearly as convinced as you are that any kids are being turned on to anything. But, as you say, I can't live without the time-waster.
From Brian Briscoe, Live Events Coordinator for Yahoo's Broadcast.com, imminent proud papa, fellow critic whose work has appeared in Pop Culture Press, Texas Music and the Austin American-Statesman and is currently shopping his first novel, Juke:
Read your Bangs piece.
Pretty damn dead on.
What completely boggles my mind about it all is that it's very much the crux of Briscoe book number two. I fully intend to explore the notion of being utterly obsessed with, in love with, moved by, and changed by music. I don't want to give too much away, but it's a lesson one of my characters needs to learn. I haven't felt like music matters in a long, long time, but I still keep going through the motions. I play CDs constantly (Sweet Life [by Varnaline] at this very moment), just like I did with my albums as a kid. And whereas I had some genuine motion of the soul as a result of some of those sounds, it just doesn't happen much now. I shake my bottom, I sing along, I play (real) guitar along with the song...but I'm no longer moved to my very core. It scares me; I don't understand it. Is it because of the prevalence of crap out there? I don't believe that. I still hear phenomenal new CDs every year. Is it growing up? Jeez, I hope not. I made my Dad a blues mix tape that he became utterly obsessive about maybe 10 or 11 years ago, when he was in his early 40s. I haven't experienced that in years, and I'm only 32.
So I'm looking for it again. I catch glimpses of it. Let me tell you, the Who concert made it stir. But that's pretty rare these days.
Dunno.
I dunno, either, my man. I hear music I become passionate about all the damn time—the BellRays, Damon Bramblett, Paranoise, etc. But I wonder how many others will feel as excited by these sounds as I do, when they're constantly deluged by crap. I think we've all become numb to the best music by having our eardrums sanded down by the shit. But hang in there—music will move you again if you let it.
From Matt Davis, teacher:
I didn't read your latest article in Shinola about music critics—I experienced it. I took it in the same way you feel so passionately that people should take in music—with all of my attention focused solely on you—your words, your tone, and the rhythm of your message. This was no easy task, mind you, because at first your article inspired—even shamed me into digging out my much neglected music collection to play a bit of Lyle Lovett's Live in Texas album.
As the disk slid into the player and began spinning, so did the wheels of my mind. I started working over your words, rereading them to solidify my understanding. I didn't get very far, though, before Lyle's signature voice emerged from my computer's speakers and invaded my brain with a song about penguins. "Penguins?" you ask. Yes, penguins. They wobbled right into my head and gummed up my mental works, making the wheels move so slowly that I couldn't concentrate on anything.
What I have to say about this little learning experience and its relevance to your article could fill volumes but that's not what I'm here for today. I'm here for you—to give you some idea of how your words impacted me. As a result, all that really needs to be said is that the issues you so passionately pounded out in your article are real—not imaginary—monsters. I know this because I have grappled with the same demons myself both as a failed would-be writer and an everyday working stiff. The only difference is that where you are passionate about music, my passion is with literature. The current negative trends you see in the music business are not dissimilar to those in the book publishing biz. As the glass teat slowly saps away at people's attention spans and imaginative power, fewer and fewer people retain the interest and ability to pick up a book and really read it. Sadly, I must take my share of the blame for this condition as I somehow manage to never have enough time to open the countless books I've been planning on reading over the last several years.
In the Twilight Zone episode based on Ellison's story, "The Paladin of the Lost Hour," the old man jokingly asks "Who would want a bookcase full of books they've already read?"
The answer stares back at me each time I look in my bathroom mirror.
Yeesh, good point. I definitely feel a twinge of recognition about the book thing. Are we really closing ourselves off to new artistic experiences by immersing ourselves in our old favorites, no matter how amazing we think they are? I hope not, but last year, when I got the Clash reissues and declared to anybody that would listen that London Calling, which was originally released in 1979, was 100 times better than any current rock album, I wondered in saner moments if that was because music today surfs a sea of mediocrity or if it was because I was reveling in the comforts of the familiar. Something else to ponder.
From Dan Israel, musician, former leader of Austin's Potter's Field, current leader of Minneapolis' Cultivators, auteur of a brand new solo album, Dan Who?:
You cut to the bone in that piece. Way to go.
Thanks, Dan. I wish you could've had more time for more comments, but I know you're busy, what with a day job, a band and promotion for your new solo album. Regardless, I appreciate the moral support.
From Chris Gonzalez, musician, whose most recent album is With the Windows Down:
I really really liked your article about music critics and how the art is diminishing. Unfortunately, writing the truth will get you shot these days even if it's written with humor to make a point. Emerson had a quote about the "great" being "misunderstood...Socrates...Jesus...they were all misunderstood." The analogy I guess could be songwriting. A part of me (the nice guy side) wants to believe that it's all good, but the cynic in me knows that it's not. Too much brain candy will eventually rot the brain and there are no doctors for that kind of damage. And now the masses all have brain damage and there seems to be little hope. And it even looks like a steady decline. Money dictates what the masses are going to hear over and over and over...so that those chosen songs get forced into the collective consciousness. The other day I was driving and I accidentally started singing Brittany Spears, "Oops, I did it again..." I was ashamed of myself as I should have been but then I laughed it off because I thought about how much I like watching her videos on "mute." And goddamn, if that song isn't everywhere! That's the ploy I suppose. People who don't search for the truth think because something is stuck in their head and the singer is, let's just say, not ugly, it must be good. Unfortunately, people who believe this outnumber us about 100,000 to 1. They're everywhere you go like the body snatchers. However, I hope you (as well as I) keep writing the truth, fight the good fight, etc. Of course, always look over your back. I mean, look what happened to Jesus and the other great thinkers.
To summarize my thoughts: Fucking and Thinking are the ultimate Ying and the Yang. Furthermore, there are two types of people: thinkers who fuck and fuckers who think.
So which am I? Thanks, Chris. You raise the point I mentioned above: are we becoming numb to the good stuff after being buried in the bad? I'm afraid you may be right. Even when I hear something I think is truly unique I wonder if it's truly that brilliant or if I'm just so sick of the same ol', same ol' I'll latch on to anything different. But if it doesn't fit the norm of the mainstream, I guess it doesn't matter, right? I'll keep fighting the good fight if you continue to do the same.