Regarding Her Husband’s Stupid Record Collection


March 21, 2014 by admin

“Because it was endearing when I wanted to consume my boyfriend’s record collection at 15 and liked being quizzed on singles and trivia — but when I later covered music for years for the alt-weekly in Nashville at 28 as the local rock scene there simmered up, I got an unending stream of shit for daring to write like I thought I had something to say that mattered in the slightest. (Yes, this is true in many ways for any woman who writes anything on the Internet, but especially in male dominated fields.)”

– Tracy Moore, Oh, the Unbelievable Shit You Get Writing About Music as a Woman (Jezebel)
– A lot of good stuff in this firecracker of an essay, which summarizes and spits out an online fracas last week regarding the blog, My Husband’s Stupid Record Collection.

One thought on “Regarding Her Husband’s Stupid Record Collection

  1. Richard Riegel says:

    Interestingly enough, Tracy Moore cites an interview with Perfect Pussy’s singer, Meredith Graves, who has this to say about her preferred focus in pop music criticism: “[If t]he only way you can review music is by saying it sounds like this band, then you get the fucking record and it doesn’t sound anything like that. I want to hear, ‘I listened to this record and it made me go out into my garage and eat half a box of ho hos and smash stuff.’ That will get me to listen to a record. I think there needs to be a shift in music writing. Actually, no. I think everyone should be able to write about whatever they want, but I would like to see more people writing about music that write about it differently. I just want to hear about how the record made you feel.”

    This to me is a perfect response to Ted Gioia’s recent “rant” about the dire state of pop-music criticism. Like Ms. Graves, I’ve always related to criticism that attempts to elucidate the emotions that a particular song or performance may inspire. That’s what hooked me on Lester Bangs’s writing early on, as he gave us plenty of treks through his psychic garages too, though in his case he was devouring metaphorical Jack-in-the-Box burgers rather than Ho-Ho’s, before smashing up all that received-wisdom rockcritical stuff. If Ted Gioia knows all the notes in a particular song, after all he’s a musician himself, that’s his focus and he’s welcome to it. But as a music fan who’s a writer, not a musician, I want to read about the story and the emotion the music inspires, and that’s what I always tried to write up in my own pieces.

    This has been my ” . . . but the little girls understand!” light-bulb moment of the day.

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