As anyone who follows the comments on my blog knows, my friend Sam Johnston challenged me to write something explaining my views about “good art”, “good music” and the general role of music reviewers. As it just so happens, this has been something I’ve been discussing with many people over the last year or so and my thoughts have been distilled down to the point where I feel they’re more-or-less coherent (unlike this sentence). That said, the following is definitely somewhat abstract and weird, in a sort of “wow, that’s really deep…man…*puff of weed smoke*” kind of way. I promise that I’m not just bullshitting here and that I’ve actually spent some time considering this.
By having the word “art” in our language, we imply that there are some things that are “art” and some that aren’t “art”. We use words to draw the lines separating one thing/emotion/ concept/whatever from the vast array of things/ emotions/concepts/whatevers that we can experience or conceptualize. In order for a word to mean anything, it has to convey what makes a specific thing different from everything else. We understand that “dog” means a hairy barking animal instead of a tall, leafy plant. If we saw a tall, leafy plant, its lack of hair and barking (despite having bark *rimshot*) would tell us it was definitely not a dog. We would then remember that tall, leafy plants are usually known as “trees.” Aren’t words wonderful?
The problem with “art” is that we (by which I mean humans who speak languages with words the mean “art”) have never quite understood what makes “art” different from everything else. There was a time (hundreds of years ago), when people could tell you, without hesitation, whether something was “art” or not. Now, post-60s, post-modern art, post-performance art and post-everything in-between, the boundaries of “art” have expanded so much they aren’t visible. The easiest thing to say at this point is “everything is art”…but again, that only really sounds good if you follow it with a massive bong hit. I think everyone knows that, as we go through our lives, there are things we consider “art” and things that we don’t. We just can’t get everyone to agree on these things.
Instead, I like to say that “anything CAN BE art.” “Art” is a type of potential lying in essentially anything, waiting for someone to come along and realize it. Nothing is intrinsically “artistic.” You need someone to come along and say “that’s art” for its art-ness to come into being.
Of course, a minute later, someone could come over and say, “Fuck you, man! That’s not art at all!” An argument would arise, points of view would be shared and, in the best case scenario, someone would eventually persuade the other that their view, whether this thing was “art” or “not-art,” was the better one.
This is where critics come in. I see my role as a music critic as someone who’s really good at persuading people. If nothing is intrinsically “artistic”, then nothing can be intrinsically “good art” or “bad art.” Instead, things can be “good art…in my opinion” or “bad art…in my opinion.” The people with opinions then have the responsibility to defend those opinions or change them if they encounter more compelling ones. A critic’s job is to have opinions. Therefore, it should also be their job to persuade people that those opinions are valid.
As the Internet has proven, you don’t have to be an “expert” to be a critic. This blog is a testament to that. I’m not a classically trained musician. I haven’t spent years in the record business. I’m a twenty-year-old college student who just likes listening to every record in sight. But I have opinions and from there, I can consider myself a critic. What separates a good critic from a bad critic is the ability to articulate those opinions well enough that you persuade people that your opinions are ones they should agree with.
By having the word “art” in our language, we imply that there are some things that are “art” and some that aren’t “art”. We use words to draw the lines separating one thing/emotion/ concept/whatever from the vast array of things/ emotions/concepts/whatevers that we can experience or conceptualize. In order for a word to mean anything, it has to convey what makes a specific thing different from everything else. We understand that “dog” means a hairy barking animal instead of a tall, leafy plant. If we saw a tall, leafy plant, its lack of hair and barking (despite having bark *rimshot*) would tell us it was definitely not a dog. We would then remember that tall, leafy plants are usually known as “trees.” Aren’t words wonderful?
The problem with “art” is that we (by which I mean humans who speak languages with words the mean “art”) have never quite understood what makes “art” different from everything else. There was a time (hundreds of years ago), when people could tell you, without hesitation, whether something was “art” or not. Now, post-60s, post-modern art, post-performance art and post-everything in-between, the boundaries of “art” have expanded so much they aren’t visible. The easiest thing to say at this point is “everything is art”…but again, that only really sounds good if you follow it with a massive bong hit. I think everyone knows that, as we go through our lives, there are things we consider “art” and things that we don’t. We just can’t get everyone to agree on these things.
Instead, I like to say that “anything CAN BE art.” “Art” is a type of potential lying in essentially anything, waiting for someone to come along and realize it. Nothing is intrinsically “artistic.” You need someone to come along and say “that’s art” for its art-ness to come into being.
Of course, a minute later, someone could come over and say, “Fuck you, man! That’s not art at all!” An argument would arise, points of view would be shared and, in the best case scenario, someone would eventually persuade the other that their view, whether this thing was “art” or “not-art,” was the better one.
This is where critics come in. I see my role as a music critic as someone who’s really good at persuading people. If nothing is intrinsically “artistic”, then nothing can be intrinsically “good art” or “bad art.” Instead, things can be “good art…in my opinion” or “bad art…in my opinion.” The people with opinions then have the responsibility to defend those opinions or change them if they encounter more compelling ones. A critic’s job is to have opinions. Therefore, it should also be their job to persuade people that those opinions are valid.
As the Internet has proven, you don’t have to be an “expert” to be a critic. This blog is a testament to that. I’m not a classically trained musician. I haven’t spent years in the record business. I’m a twenty-year-old college student who just likes listening to every record in sight. But I have opinions and from there, I can consider myself a critic. What separates a good critic from a bad critic is the ability to articulate those opinions well enough that you persuade people that your opinions are ones they should agree with.
Here on Pretzel Logic, there’s not a set criteria for what will get a good review from me as opposed to a bad one. It’s easy to say that “innovative” music is good, or “original” music is good, etc etc. But, in my mind, that’s only so much hand-waving. At the end of the day, it comes down to whether or not I like it, simple as that. Now, there are many ways that I might like something (based on sound, context, what I had for breakfast, etc), but it all boils down to whether I want to listen to it again.
From there, it’s just a matter of articulating the variety of thoughts that led me to decide whether I personally like this album or not. Hopefully, my reviews help give you, gentle reader, an insight into what pros and cons stand out for me for any given album. In a perfect world, you’d consider what I had to say, listen to the album, formulate your opinion and then compare it to mine.
Now, whether you agree with me or not is mostly irrelevant. You can have whatever opinions you want, since you are now as much of a critic as I am. But, if I’m a particularly good critic, most of the time you would find yourself agreeing with me, or changing your initial opinions based on observations in my review or information you didn’t know. A good critic has opinions you’ve grown to trust.
I don’t know if I’m a good critic. All I know is that I have opinions and I try my best to articulate them. Hopefully, I’ve persuaded a few people to listen to new music, or hear music they already knew in a new light. But, understand that when I review an album, no matter how many pretzels I’m awarding it, I’m not saying it’s inherently “good” or “bad”. If many critics come together in agreement over a certain album, we could, just maybe, begin to say whether something was “good” or “bad”, but that would still marginalize any minority opinions. To be safe, all any critic can say is whether they like something or not and try to get anyone who cares to agree with them.
What do you think? I find this whole issue fascinating and if you’ve got opinions about opinions, I’d love to hear them. Comment away, readers!
So basically we all need to get high and then EVERYTHING will be art. Dude. Sweeet.
ReplyDeleteSimon, that was an awesome essay. As if to solidify your point, you use your language to be very persuasive about the role of a music critic in today's world. I'm on board with a lot of the stuff you're saying here.
ReplyDeleteHowever, here's where I split: around halfway through this post, you mention that when two people are arguing over what is and isn't art, the best case scenario is when one succeeds in persuading the other of their view. But I'm less interested in having others accept an opinion that can persuasively reign over other opinions--instead, I think that it's better to have an intelligent argument engage in discourse with other intelligent arguments of contrary stances. When a good argument has to defend itself against another good contrary argument, it has to get better or die. More intelligent discourse, better opinions, higher levels of critique.
With this in mind, I'd say that it's not good enough for a critic to only try and develop their opinions and persuade others that they are good. An exceptional critic, a critic that takes it to the next level, figures out how to challenge their readers to not just follow (like many Pitchfork subscribers), but to think, discourse, and improve the conversation of art--a conversation that is an ongoing thing; A conversation that should never have any finished sentences (so to speak).
But to drag that abstract idea into the practical world: that's a damn difficult thing to do. Perhaps this sort of conversation can only be enacted between critics, that is, people who actually take the time to pick up the pen and make a real argument (as opposed to FAG U R GAYZORS!!11!). But I'd still say that a critic can use their writing in a way that gets their audience thinking, developing, growing. I can't put my finger on how that practically manifests in a person's writing, but I know that it's some kind of element that pushes good writing into great writing.
Anyway, great job. Keep up the good work. Let me know if you have any developments on these thoughts.
Steve Shipps would be proud. Not.
ReplyDeleteYou can be such a pretentious douche.