An ironic exploration of the character of a modern day internet music-geek.
I’m unique because I’m not afraid to speak out, because I’m different from the crowd and maybe just a little proud, because I’m not another one of those sheep following each other around, because I find clichés make me doubt my sanity, because I’ve let go of my vanity, because I judge you by your music taste and never waste a second of my life, I go online with music on my mind. Because I visit Pitchfork, YouTube, Last Fm, Hipster Runoff, /mu/, Hype Machine and Gorilla vs. Bear, I’m unique because I am an alt-dude, backpacker, bro, emo in all but hair, hipster, indie-kid, metalhead, music-geek, skater and stoner all in one, because my band is called Mavericks and I play guitar and piano and ukelele and drums and I sing and write music and produce dubstep all just for fun. I am cultured, classy and intellectual. I am rarely ineffectual.
I am an art critic, music critic and literary critic but not a self-critic, a nameless judge, an anonymous jury neither of whom are sympathetic, I listen to rapegaze, shoegaze, chillwave, witch house, dubstep, deathstep, hip hop, trip hop, math rock, noise pop, stadium rock, sadcore, slowcore and probably some more, I listen to lo-fi and hi-fis, I like vinyl and CDs more than mp3s, I hold obscurity over quality and fantasy over reality, I am unique and my tastes are indefinable, I am unlike anyone you’ve met or ever will meet - unreadable, unprecedented, unparalleled, unmatched and unique.
*
Subject: URGENT: PLEASE READ IMMEDIATELY FOR YOUR OWN BENEFIT
From: oneofakind@hotmail.org
To: tylergrishamphotography@pitchfork.org
Hey Tyler
I’ve got some great photos to submit to you from a gig I went to a couple of weeks ago that you should definitely feature on Pitchfork. This band that were playing are the biggest thing in my neighbourhood’s music scene and they create a really unique sound even when they play live. The band playing was my band, actually, We’re called Mavericks - mainly because were so trailblazing - and we’re an avant-garde, experimental dub-folk (a mixture of dubstep and folk) band and we play our instruments using only paperclips and teeth (admittedly, we recently branched out into using tongues too). I’ve attached a link to our myspace, so check it out.
All this music talk has actually reminded me that the other day I wrote some great album reviews. At the time I thought to myself, ‘You know what? Pitchfork should see this writing, because it is damn fine.’ but I’d forgotten until now. I don’t want you guys to miss out on the chance of grabbing a great up and coming writer, you know? I realise that you usually take photos and nothing else, but you can pass them on to the editor. I’ve attached two of the reviews - try not to be intimidated by the complex vocabulary, I can always dumb it down if you’d prefer.
Cheers Tyler, I’m sure I’ll be hearing a lot more from you guys in the next week.
*
As for you, well, you’re a lost cause. I saw that song you covered, I don’t know why I bothered. Your guitar playing is average at best and your vocals should come from the chest, but you’re voice isn’t good enough for you to ever make it. Of course, if you told me that I wouldn’t take it, but I‘m telling you so accept it. I don’t mean to be rude - well, ok maybe I do - but you’re certainly not gifted, nor even talented. Your fingers are too far off the frets of the guitar when you’re playing, you’re actually paying for music, I liked your favourite band before they were famous, I didn‘t just join the bandwagon, I have a higher musical IQ than you, my taste is much more shrewd, if you argued with me you wouldn’t have a clue, in real life I’d never go near you. Unless you’re female. In which case, can I have your number?
Anyway…
*
Subject: URGENT: LACK OF RESPONSE
From: oneofakind@hotmail.org
To: tylergrishamphotography@pitchfork.org
Tyler
You haven’t responded to me yet and it’s been almost a day. I realise that you have a website to run and I’m sure you’re very busy taking photos and tinkering with cameras, but I do expect better treatment from you.
My good friend, I’m not a fan of ultimatums at all, but if you can’t give me the time I deserve then I will have to move my offer on to a different (rival) company who will undoubtedly snatch me up. I will give you a few more hours to come back to me, and if you don’t then Pitchfork will be punished most severely by your sedentary ways. Remember, Tyler, you don’t want to end up like one of those twelve publishers that rejected J K Rowling.
*
I hate what some people will say and do to be ‘cool’. I hate people who like Blink 182 and confuse My Bloody Valentine and Bullet for my Valentine, I hate Tool because Pitchfork says I should, I hate anyone who comes ’from the hood’, I hate anyone who likes Lady Gaga, JLS or Westlife, I hate social stereotypes, I hate people who listen to that show with Zane Lowe, I hate people who get music from Pitchfork, I hate hipsters trying to be hipper by asking other hipsters what’s hip enough, I hate music that’s in any chart, I hate anyone claiming music isn’t art, I hate music that is critically acclaimed, I hate your music, I hate songs about love, I hate sad songs and bad songs and ballads, I hate rap about money and bitches. I love money and bitches, I love Zoey Deschanel, Hayley Williams, Amber Coffman and Victoria Legrand, I love the radio and Radiohead and Portishead and Pendulum and Delirium and Deerhunter, I love Animal Collective and Alexisonfire and Arcade Fire and Athlete, I love anonymity and profanity and individuality and insanity and obscenity.
*
Subject: URGENT: MAKE YOUR REPARATIONS OR SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES
From: oneofakind@hotmail.org
To: tylergrishamphotography@pitchfork.org
I admit I haven’t given you your full quota of a few more hours, Tyler, but I seriously expected you to reply immediately. It has been forty-five minutes since I last emailed and you still haven’t replied. I’m moving on to Rolling Stone now, so remember you have only yourselves to blame for this terrible mistake. You may have a chance of stealing me from Rolling Stone’s clutches (because, I admit, I prefer you) if you reply swiftly and humbly make up for your distinct lack of respect. If not, Tyler, I’ll see you on the battlefield of music criticism.
*
I lie about my musical talent, I boast about how powerful my subwoofer is, the only French I know is ‘avant garde’, the only German I know is ‘schadenfreude‘, the only Italian I know is ’café latte’, I rarely find people that get me because my emotions are so intense, sometimes I feel so alone, but I know I’m not to blame because no-one understands my pain, I fight with my parents because they always complain and always take my sister‘s side, I swear they stifle my individuality - I’ll probably need therapy when I’m older.
I go on to Pitchfork every day to see what they have to say and agree with it no matter what, I wait for their album ratings and I listen to whatever they tell me to and I only look at the score and I never read the review and I buy all the albums that get over 8.2. When I’m on Pitchfork my favourite band is Animal Collective, on /mu/ it’s Caribou, on Hipster Runoff it’s Salem, on Last FM it’s Delorean, on Hype Machine it’s Seasick Steve, on Gorilla vs. Bear it’s Bon Iver, on YouTube it’s Erykah Badu and when I’m at home on my own it’s the Monotones. When I’m online my girlfriend is beautiful and blonde and Swedish but when I’m at home she’s English and brunette and non-existent. When I’m online I make myself heard and I voice my opinion on the state of modern society - on teenage girls, on pop music, on piety, on religion. On capitalism, on altruism and the democratic system. You should know what I mean, although you might not see past the propaganda and lies - you with your willingly blindfolded eyes.
