By Steve Weinstein
By Bryan Bierman
By Lindsey Rhoades
By Chaz Kangas
By Ben Westhoff and Sarah Purkrabek
By Jena Ardell
By Jesse Sendejas Jr.
By Katherine Turman
P&J has grown in renown and influence since its early-'70s inception, curated and tallieduntil this yearentirely on Christgau's watch (and, he has joked, his family's). The poll became a valuable property for the Voice, but its reputation was largely thanks to the signature annual report from Xgau himself, a cutting and uncut essay that chided the hypocrisy and laziness of its participants and its winners in equal measure. By the turn of this century, the event was eagerly awaited year after year: an infallible, indefatigable permanent record of Good Music.
Or was it? You can judge for yourself at robertchristgau.com, where the results since 1971 are available. But anyone out to lionize P&J as a Top 40 poll or an arbiter of taste has their work cut out for them from about the mid '80s forward. A few comical gaffes, by year:
1986 Timbuk 3's debut LP, Greetings From Timbuk 3, makes #34 on the strength of its hit single, "The Future's So Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades." It is narrowly edged out by the Smiths' The Queen Is Dead at #30, but manages to best Bad Brains' I Against I (#35).
1988 Aging beatniks take over the music industry. Live through this (I did): Tracy Chapman (#3), Michelle Shocked (#5), Traveling Wilburys (#9),Randy Newman (#10), Brian Wilson (#12), and John Hiatt (#18) tower over Talking Heads (#24), Guns N' Roses (#26), Jane's Addiction (#34), and . . . wait, K.D. Lang is only at #37?
1989 The only Cure album ever to make Pazz & Jop, Disintegration, rates #39, overtaking NRBQ's Wild Weekend (#40) but clearly not in the same league as Terence Trent D'Arby's Neither Fish Nor Flesh (#26) or Neneh Cherry's Raw Like Sushi (#5).
1991 The debut albums from Seal (#19) and Massive Attack (#25), as well as My Bloody Valentine's Loveless (#14) and Metallica's Metallica (#8), have nothing on P.M. Dawn's Of the Heart, of the Soul and of the Cross: The Utopian Experience, an album that, in the closest race of the poll yet, barely misses besting U2's Achtung Baby and settles in at #5.
1995 At #20, Matthew Sweet's 100% Fun is 100 percent better than Notorious B.I.G.'s Ready to Die (#38) and Ol' Dirty Bastard's Return to the 36 Chambers (#39). Raekwon's Only Built 4 Cuban Linx makes #15, but they're all worthless compared to Elastica's Elastica (#4).
2005 Neneh Cherry's comeback album, Arular, makes #2.
Last one's a joke. But now, faced with instant consensus in the Internet age, even Christgau has conceded that Pazz & Jop's critical weight has diminished over the last five years. Largely this is because year-in-review coverage has two major purposes: First and foremost, Top-XX lists condense and advertise a publication's demographic focusits taste. Secondarily, they act as a shopping cart for casual listeners: those too young to know what's what, and discerning fans displaced from cities where "cutting-edge" music is more heavily discussed and promoted. That second functionoutreachis wholly voided by the Internet. If you can afford to keep up with pop music, you can afford a high-speed connection that offers you an incomprehensible universe of recording artists, and far too many opinions about them.
Via the Internet, producing, promoting, and keeping up with music are all easier and more affordable pastimes, which is why Christgau's mantra the last couple of years has been one of submission. He has repeatedly quipped that there is more music released in a given year than we can be expected to process perceptually, let alone critically, and this has led him to support the explosion of online music criticism that arguably unseated him, positing that more music necessitates more gatekeepers.
Yet he stops short of calling out my peershis apprentices in many casesfor a host of critical deficiencies. Chiefly: self-absorption, editorial and intellectual laziness, and an overt susceptibility to peer pressure that's led to a disdainful homogeneity of opinion.
This year pulled back the curtain on this issue of rock-critic one-mind like never before. Year-end lists from the biggest "independent" print and online magazineswhich enjoy the luxury of reckless self-directionwere essentially the same as those of "corporate" publications. This is only a problem because many of the indie world's biggest voicesPitchfork and the recently launched Gawker blog Idolator prime among themmake such an effort to stitch up the old guard as out-of-touch straw men, positioning themselves as some kind of antidote. Both sites have gone after Rolling Stone, and Idolator in particular was pathologically obsessed with vilifying this paper on behalf of Robert Christgau, who didn't ask them to, and continues, incidentally, to write frequently for Rolling Stone.
For discerning listeners, and suspicious teenagers who want to find their own music, the undeniable transparency of rock-critic hegemony should be liberating. Finally, 2006 made it plain: Everyone who's telling you to listen to the same 50 records is caught in a closed loop of incestuous self-assurance, and you owe it to yourselves to leave them behind.