Blowin Indie Wind The Worst Albums of 2004

Author: Richard Lawless

The role of a music critic is to act as a Virgil to the musical Dante as they journey through hell together. Though most people find critics to be bitter, angry pricks, they still read and listen to them, even if it's only for the sheer entertainment value. I hope that, if anything, my column was at some point amusing, even if you found my music taste to be weird and possibly idiotic. At the end of the day, I know that I'm not going to redefine anyone's musical taste, but hopefully I've turned at least one person on to an album they might've never heard otherwise. Writing about music I love is a wonderful, constructive hobby, but the real fun honestly lies in bashing terrible music. For my last column, I decided to go out in a blaze of glory, doing what a critic does best: wielding my fiery axe of scorn and bitching about music released in the last year I find to be deplorable.

R.E.M. "Around the Sun"

Michael Stipe recently lashed out at critics for not listening anymore and just having preconceived attitudes about aging bands' new albums. There's a reason we have these preconceived notions: you haven't written a decent song since 1993, and we're tired of listening to drab, soupy crap from three guys who should've followed Bill Berry's lead and quit 10 years ago.

Har Mar Superstar "The Handler"

If we could all just boycott one artist, and not even acknowledge his presence, this bloated hipster would be at the top of the list. His act is obviously a joke, but last time I checked, no one's laughing at a dude who decided to dust off an age-old gimmick about a disgusting, arrogant and delusional ladies man. Jon Lovitz already cornered the market for overweight weird men pretending they're sex idols, but he's actually funny. Hook up with Peaches already and gross out the world together. Last time I checked she was wearing a (hopefully) fake set of testicles while performing. Brilliant.

The Vines "Winning Days"

I'm incredibly thankful that the entire world, except for those lovable Aussies, has stopped paying attention to this band who were once marketed as the next Nirvana. Last time I checked, Nirvana wrote good songs and didn't feature a lead singer who fell over every five seconds.

Tortoise "It's All Around You"

The impression I have of Tortoise is that the group is comprised of eight guys with neatly trimmed beards and those sleek, futuristic nerd-glasses sitting in a sterile, whitewashed room, staring at the wall or stiffly playing a vibraphone. Chicago post-rock has gotten nauseatingly stale and cold, like my aunt's tuna casserole (although unlike post-rock, my aunt's tuna casserole can be made warm and tasty again with a quick microwave zap), and Tortoise are now churning out barren, soulless jazz-crap. Though earlier Tortoise albums are excellent in fresh experimentation with rhythms, jazz, gurgling synthesizers, and tape manipulation, as they grow older and mellow out to inconceivable levels the creativity has quickly vanished.

Guns N' Roses "Greatest Hits"

It's called "Appetite for Destruction" and everybody already owns it.

Courtney Love "America's Sweetheart"

While Bob Dylan is a living legend, Courtney Love is a living trainwreck. Even if there was a decent song here - and there's not - the massive wave of hatred against her culled from the American public's disgust is enough to ensure she'll never work in this town again. And by "this town," I mean anyone's CD player.

Jimmy Eat World "Futures"

If they didn't take themselves so seriously, they'd...no, they'd still be crappy, but at least this way they're easier to laugh at. After writing the bouncy football game staple "The Middle," they try to avoid the one-hit wonder graveyard (where there's a spot conveniently waiting for them right in between Marcy Playground and Lifehouse) by creating this humorless, lifeless set of musically-challenged quasi-anthems. They probably thought this album would reinvent rock music as we all know it. Tools.

Ben Lee "Hey You, Yes You"

Hey Ben Lee, stop making albums.



And finally, one last word of advice: buy the new Sleater-Kinney album ("The Woods"). It's going to be huge. Bye kids. It's been real.