Dear Zach Baron

You write the shittiest record reviews in the world. I know you're trying to wax poetically and oh, i don't know, convey the true transcendent nature of a sophisticated and primal sound experience or whatever it is that you are telling yourself you do, but all I hear is the muted fap-fap-fapping of you verbally masturbating all over the internets.

There isn't an indie-rock cliche you don't use, abuse, overuse, then finally flog as it lies dead on the ground. Name-drop other indie bands? Check. Subtly referencing all the live shows you've been to? Check. Making up new words like "literalizing?" Check. Being a douchebag? Check.

Once you've finished blowing your verbal load and using a thesaurus like a cheap whore, how about you try falling back on a few of the pillars of music journalism. Consider explaining why this album merits your score of 7.5, what some of the standout tracks are, or how about you tell me what the fuck genre of music this album is. I think it might be techno. Am I right?

If I ever want to do a Zach Baron impersonation, I will take an album, shit on it, then walk around showing it to people. I will shout, "Look at my shit! Isn't my shit awesome? I bet you wish you had shit like this. I put my shit on a record!"


Yours in constructive criticism,

Evan

p.s. You compare the album to Proust? What the fuck?