The Mechanics of a Type-A Personality Reviewer – by China DeSade

The Mechanics of a Type-A Personality Reviewer
by China deSade

I have a bad habit. I think too much. I care too much. Now, I’m not some simpering, emotional, self-pitying basket-case. No, in fact most people see me as a jaded, crass, blatant motherfucker. But fact of the matter is that once upon a thyme a long, long thyme ago I made a statement that if you care enough to make the music, and record it and send it to me…then I’ll review it. Years later, I’ve learned to regret that statement. I get tapes and I have to listen to them. I can’t guarantee print press or anything, but I listen to each and every one that comes across my desk. Including the “I Spit In Your Gravy” country-punk project I still can’t get out of my head.

Now unless you are paying me my monthly wages, I can’t guarantee that I’m fast. It’s called “vested interest.” I’m interested that the note on my house is paid. That I have food available to me for sustenance and that I’m able to get photography supplies and computer ZIP disks on a regular basis. If you pay me, I work much like my 200MHz computer. You need photos. You play the show, come to the studio. Whatever. I shoot, develop, print and deliver in 24 hours. And for that you pay me. I send the information out to interested parties. Record labels, publicists, interested news groups. I lobby for valuable press, and add you to my ever growing web page for a thyme. And for this you pay me.

If you don’t pay me…let’s say I can take a bit longer. There is a stack of disc and tapes sitting on the corner of my desk that just yearns to be listened to. And since I’m not in the habit of “half-listening” to material I don’t get through very many in a week. Most are unremarkable. Most sound the same. Others sound like they really want to be the next Nine Inch Nails, but unfortunately sound too much like they want to be the next Nine Inch Nails. One problem. There was a first Nine Inch Nails and Mr. Reznor is doing quite well with the concept and that market is full. Insert quarter, try again.

Now one thing I love is when I receive something that I’m not expecting. When I hear something clicking into place like the puzzle box from Hellraiser. Now this thing may not be very developed, but it has a sound, and a substance and an idea that might take it far.

I forwardly admit that I don’t know a thing about music. I can’t play an instrument without driving animals to howls or invoking demons. I can’t read music more complex than “twinkle, twinkle little star” and I wouldn’t sell my singing abilities to groups trying to find new inhuman torture techniques (no one should deserve that much suffering.)

So how do I review shows, and releases? Well, I love music. I don’t have any particular style that I love or hate. And I leave the reviews of technique to those that know composition, arrangement and complexity. I just know what I like.

I’ve been to enough shows and heard enough music to know what I consider good and bad. I’ve heard lots of releases that were wonderful then gone to see the tour and been bored off my rocker. Some are amazing studio technicians or have great producers. Some have amazing stage presence and can incite mass hysteria in audiences. Some lucky bastards have it all.

The first thyme I listen to a release, I just listen to it. No notes, no pointed annotations. Just pop in the tape or slip in the disc and go about housework, writing or developing film. The next thyme I go through it I write down track numbers and titles and statistical information. I write down which parts I liked and which parts seemed to drone on.

Then I go back and listen to those parts. What happens during those parts? What are the instruments, who is playing those instruments? I remember listening to Skinny Puppy’s “The Process” release and loving the guitar. Not being able to recall SP having a guitarist, I look in the liner notes and realize that it is a “Patrick Sprawl.” Later I went to a Sister Machine Gun show and fell in love with an instrument that I normally stay neutral on. The guitar. This guitarist was in fucking-love with this instrument and it was passionate to watch him and the others go ballistic on stage. It was Pat Sprawl. Things like this.

I consider music to be a vital, transforming experience. A process that musicians often take for granted. Playing no instruments, having no intellectual grounds for my judgments I feel that I make a equitable reviewer for the sake that I truly listen to what I’m receiving and don’t compare them to others in the genre or what is hot right now. My brain hasn’t pigeon-holed music or musicians. I haven’t developed affinities for certain instruments so I can enjoy and not bat an eyelash as Bob Dog plays the sitar on stage at a Pigface show.

If you care enough to make the music. To record it. To send it to me. I care enough to listen. Truly listen to it. And give one single, solitary opinion.