Uneasy listening
Life, as popular wisdom goes, is short, which is why I usually waste no space in this column on music that’s not worth your while. Generally, this is my space for drawing attention to music that I enjoy, in the hopes that others may seek it out and enjoy it too. (Win-win. Champagne all around.)
Of course, there is a lot of bad music out there too. The good thing is that it is usually forgettable and, in today’s climate, often short-lived as well. (And of course, as I have to remind myself, “bad” is relative. Lots of people liked Rob Liefeld’s Image comics in the ‘90s, after all. Even though they are now acknowledged as the nadir of sequential art, I assume they imparted some joy to someone somewhere.) But sometimes, bad music makes an impression, usually due to factors beyond its inherent badness. Case in point: Miguel Escueta’s debut album, the hilariously-named “I Am M.E.”
I’ve been writing and editing music publications for about a decade now. But when that album made its way onto my Reviews Editor desk in 2007, and I assigned it to one of my most reliable reviewers, and we ran the review in Burn (a music magazine I co-founded), the fallout afterwards marked the first and only time a label, major or otherwise, has ever asked a publication I worked for to apologize for a review.
Granted, Kristine Lim’s review was unforgiving. It starts off with the declaration that “Miguel Escueta is destroying rock music.” It goes on to lament the album’s “lack of originality, the lack of any notable passion, the abundance of overused melodies and ideas.” But this was not just gleeful assassination. Knowing my reviewer, I was sure that she had given it a fair chance. And to be asked — by a label — to apologize for a review I had edited and approved, as if we had committed some grave wrongdoing, irritated me no end.
Needless to say, we never apologized. The first draft of my response was just an anthology of swear words punctuated by obscene doodles. But after I had calmed down, this was what I sent to the record company:
* * *
To (Whom It May Concern),
The life of an artist is not an easy one; neither is the lot of a critic particularly enviable. In a perfect world, artists would produce nothing but sheer brilliance and critics would spout nothing but enthusiastic praise. But for art to mean anything, it entails taking risks — and one of those risks is the risk of failure. Failure in whose eyes?, you may very well ask. Well, in this case, failure in the eyes of someone who took the time to absorb this particular effort, and finally, after much careful consideration, deemed it lacking.
Kristine Lim’s review of Miguel Escueta’s debut album is far from the first negative review to appear in the pages of Burn magazine; it does not even count as the lowest rating the magazine has ever bestowed. (NOTE: This was kind of a lie. Our rating scale did not allow for a lower score. However, it was not the only album to receive that low a score.) It does mark the first time, however, that we have received a complaint about our reviews. This is regrettable; still, it cannot and must not change our dedication to delivering honest, informed criticism.
In the short term, it would be easier for us to try to please everybody: find something to praise in every CD given to us for review. But in the long run, we believe that honest, informed criticism is one of the few things that can truly help our music industry as a whole.
In our efforts to help build a better music scene for us all, some hurt feelings may be inevitable. We do not ask that you suppress your reactions; we only hope you understand our point of view.
Thank you.
* * *
And that was that. You may be interested to know that Miguel Escueta is still at it. I just received a press release via e-mail that declares that, three years after his debut, “Now it Starts for Miguel Esceuta!” (Apparently his new release is entitled “Now It Starts”). A quote from Escueta promises “no more metaphors or underlying meanings,” as if that were the problem with the first album.
But credit where credit is due: it takes resolve to stick around, especially in the music industry. (And hey, Youngblood #1 is someone’s favorite comic book, somewhere.) And by writing about Escueta here, I’ve managed to vent my annoyance about that incident three years ago, while also grudgingly spreading the word about his new release.
Win-win. Champagne all around.
