New York Mag Needs an Actual Rock Critic


Rock-criticism enthusiasts (pfft) will note that this weeks’ New York magazine reprises their most aggravating feature, “Jukebox,” wherein three “citizen critics” representing theoretically wildly different demographics — Jenny the (Mostly Ex-) Party Girl, Fred the Deep-Thinking Dog Walker, and (prepare yourself) Kenny the Williamsburger (I told you) — dish civilian kisses and disses upon Kelly Clarkson, Phoenix, Dan Deacon, Metric, and Booker T. What results is not exactly revelatory (“This is a ‘dog could talk’ record,” “Its layered walls of ‘ones and zeros’ sounds make me want to go run fast or something”), and will only exacerbate the pain of those who’ve long lamented that such an august publication has no dedicated rock critic, even with sweet dudes like Nick Catucci lurking about. It’s a shame, and a perpetually bad omen. Though at least they’re devoting some ink to Phoenix and Booker T., both of whom are totally rad. (See the benefit of using “professionals”?)

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