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.
Pop music criticism is mired in a virulent, unrepentant triumphalism these days, and I don't know that readers are sufficiently aware of it. Critics are cripplingly invested in breaking bands and generating buzz, a careerist formalization of the childish desire to snort, "Oh my God, you haven't heard this yet?" More forgivingly, it's also a function of young voices wanting to establish their reputation by aligning with an artist's work before anyone else. But this is not criticism: It is enthusiasm. By and large, what we read online amounts to the overexcited gushing of groupies, presented in a format that looks professional and therefore feels like a publication. Worse, undeserving online writers are disproportionately trusted, because their opinions are simultaneously free, easier to come by, and more rapidly "validated" by consensus (read: linking) than those of their once venerated print predecessors.
In tight times, print publications are unfortunately still hedging against whether or not a band has money behind themwhether they would be wasting space on the page to cover a bunch of college kids that will probably break up by the issue dateand their effort to ape the Internet's turn toward one-click novelty is just another reason their industry is collapsing. In 2006, Pitchfork is Splenda for coffee-break hipsters, PopMatters matters, and bands are just as likely to profit by a mention on Stereogum as by a feature in Rolling Stone. Jann Wenner has been writing "Nothing happened today" in his diary for two years.
Coverage of pop musicthe "noise of pop," as Paul Morley might put itisn't limited by issue dates or printing costs anymore, so the idea of stamping records with a rank relative to their temporal peer group is more and more reductive, and arguably pointless. What does Sonic Youth have to do with Joanna Newsom or Belle & Sebastian, apart from the fact that they all released records in 2006? Who is evaluating music on its own terms, against its obvious stylistic lineage, rather than by its ability to blend or contrast withor in only the best cases, changethe pop culture of its day? The answer is that critics are chasing novelty, which leads to the celebration of the obvious, of "Weird Al" singles and Gnarls Barkley's "Crazy," one of the most perplexingly inconsequential one-hook jingles ever to storm the charts.
Today, we've lost independent points of view, thanks to the oppressive consensus effect of the Internet. A lazy reliance on just a few websites assures critics they're covering the "right" records and are still on top of things. That's why all of our year-end lists look exactly the same: We're constantly looking over our shoulders lest we miss out on a scoop that might generate traffic. But it's not just critics. Everyone's relationship to music has changed because of the Internet, and in a way that invalidates year-in-review summaries: We rank and file music all year long on our blogs and web magazines, in the list-drenched advertorial press, and even on our iPods. If everyone's a critic, do we still need a critics' poll?