I know I'm basically constructing a glass house here, but I admit I'm confused.

I've been thinking about what being a music critic means in our current cultural climate and essentially drawing a blank (apparently we're all confused -- Wikipedia's list of American music critics begins with Paula Abdul, concludes with Douglas Wolk and contains more piss-ant MP3 bloggers than you could shake a stick at).  The more criticism I read, the more the idea of being a critic (or, more loosely, the idea of professionally writing about music) strikes me as pointless and embarrassing.  Writers I used to love (Greil Marcus, Xgau, Savage) are infuriating me.  Disenchantment with criticism isn't new or unique, of course.  Does anyone actually enjoy reading it, aside from people in their early twenties who evangelize about Lester Bangs, pursue shitty jobs with magazines that will fail in three years, and bore their acquaintances with one-sided conversation peppered with things like "rockist" and "reimagine" and "Vampire Weekend"? 

When I first read Bangs, I found his style exciting, too, and it's not surprising to me that he's widely canonized (is there anything people love more than a dead rebel?). When I read him now, though, the style that used to strike me as heartbreakingly sincere now seems as contrived and pretentious as the writing that he seemed to be battling against.  The Ramones on first listen were far more exciting (as they continued to be for pretty much every listen thereafter), though in a similar way  -- "I could do this. We could all be doing this!" (Now that we all are, how awesome is it?  Now that everyone and their mom actually plays in a shitty band and writes retarded, overblown criticism, isn't it fucking amazing?  What a feeling!  Thanks, the seventies!) 

I don't blame Bangs, though, for the proliferation of bad working writers any more than I hold the Ramones accountable for the 100 shitty bands per square mile aping their style.  The worst thing about the current state of music criticism, to me, is not that too many people are writing, it's the style that the most-read writers are choosing to write in.  This, I feel, is the fault of a few poor imitations of Greil Marcus that landed on rich soil and sprouted a thousand heads.  These people would actually do well to try and mimic Bangs instead, because his is a style more easily imitated by stupid people (this is not a dig at Bangs, who was obviously a very smart guy).  While I like Marcus and think he is a good writer, I find a lot of his more grand theorizing really difficult to swallow (someone please convince me once and for all that the chapter in The Shape of Things to Come about Bill Pullman's face is actually an elaborate joke).  Would you rather see a Pitchfork writer or MP3 blogger saying "Hooray! I love Black Kids, they thrill me so hard and are gonna save the world", or would you rather hear a theory that the new Art Brut single is an actual robin's egg, explained as one of Plato's dialogues?  Neither one seems like anything I'd like to read in 1,000 years, but at least the former isn't up its own ass to the degree that the latter is.

What are these critics trying to do?  They are trying to assert their personalities.   Why are they doing that?  Because we hagiograph (give me a new word, I admit I need one) critics now, and consider music criticism an art in itself.  Is this point of view bad?  I'm not sure, but it certainly brews results that look hideous.

What should a music critic be doing?  I don't know anymore, but I feel that it's best when a critic writes something factual, whether he is dealing with himself, history or hardline crit.  I think the only non-nauseating excuses for music journalism are to educate an audience or express oneself.  I think a critic needs to decide where he stands with the canon and objectivity, and stick with it.  I think a critic should tacitly acknowledge the primacy of his subject, express himself with brevity and clarity, and, for extra credit, radiate sincere enthusiasm.  I think bizarro Marcus-esque theorizing is to be strenuously avoided, and that above all, and in spite of all this, a critic should not take himself too seriously. 

All I'm certain of is that the bright spots in a sea of annoying, pretentious bullshit* are, for me, the moments when a writer either beautifully and simply elucidates the way a song or band makes him feel (like John Darnielle here, but not everywhere) or explains something factual in lovely, clear prose (like Jon Savage at his best).

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*Re: bullshit.  If you are a critic, and you write for reasons other than to hear your pen rattle, please jettison these from your style:
--Conceptual reviews, unless astronomically hilarious.
--"The art of pretend forgetfulness."  Here is a real example: "...that silly religious one with the choir...what was it called? Just like a prayer, I'll take you there.  I can't remember what it was called. But you know the one I mean. Like A Prayer."  Well, you've just proven that you do know what it's called, so why pretend otherwise?  Are you trying to say it's forgettable?  Say it, then, and see what happens.
--Making a show of not understanding or not conforming to prevailing musical taste, or contrarianism for the sake of it, or attempting to draw attention to oneself by presenting a "challenging" opinion.
--Excessive anecdotage.
--Bigging-up of oneself as anything.
--The pursuit of vendettas (lookin' at you, Xgau).
--Ridiculously assumptive referentiality when writing for "the people."

^All of these, really, could go under the single word "pretension."