My Whole Review of Some Album from Gossip

See below.












Ew.

Blonde on Blonde – Bob Dylan

Such a title should have been preserved for a middle-of-the-road, penis-free porno, not another convoluted Bob Dylan offering.

Although his fervid fans would have you believe that Dylan's music was so deep you could dive into it, I would like to frantically caution you that in fact it is as shallow as the latest Seth Rogen effort. This dinosaur is vaunted as a cultural icon for supposedly having something interesting to say, where in reality you'd learn more from watching an episode of Cash Cab.

Perhaps you should double entendre us to death while appealing to all of your obtuse hippy fans that will chant any lyric that has to do with getting baked ("Rainy Day Woman #12 & 35"). Some writhe in sycophantic celebration about the supposed cleverness of this play on words but I'm willing to call it what it really is, pure sloth for fans ready to consume anything offered as gospel, provided the gospel was grown in your friend's neighbors' backyard. Some refer to him as a great storyteller. Really? If you call disjointed, whiskey tango adventures great stories, then he is your guy! The sad truth is that if Bob Dylan did a cover of the schoolyard anthem "Diarrhea", people would dissect it and arrive on the idea that it's about drugs or the war or the war on drugs. You are suckers for periphrasis people, wake up, he's no genius, just another boring coffeehouse toadie that got lucky. I think his interview answers were convoluted because he was just as surprised by his success as I am.

Take the people that are so quick to call him genius. Ask them what albums they own. Ask them what their favorite Dylan songs are. Ask them to recite some lyrics. Ask them their PIN number because they will probably be shit stupid enough to give it to you. Exactly. With the exception of a few super fans, they won't have jack shit and won't be anywhere near being able to justify the genius label. And even if they can recite the popular standards, ask them what the fuck they mean. It is all "poetic" nonsense and Bob has laughed all the way to the bank for years . . . too bad he hasn't laughed all the way to a barber. Just because critics are ready to suckle his teet at any offering, doesn't make his music good, relevant or even interesting. All of his best works had to be reinterpreted by someone else. "All Along the watchtower" was only made great because Hendrix salvaged it and "It's All Over Now" received a real chance once Van Morrison performed it.

The fact of the matter is, people have some sort of fear of announcing that they don't like or get Bob Dylan. They tow the party line and continue with the phony reverence. What is there that is redeeming about Bob Dylan's work? At least he has the smarts to avoid the press these days and doing anything that make him tabloid fodder, but who has given him the idea that it's a good idea to continue to produce albums? The legions of aformentioned adoring fans and critics? Fuck that noise. (Literally)

From Obviously Five Believers:

I got my black dog barkin'

Black dog barkin'

Yes, it is now

Yes, it is now

Outside my yard

Yes, I could tell you what he means

If I just didn't have to try so hard.

Ok, if I sent this to you without any context, you would say, aww, that's sweet that your six year old is writing but would secretly think, that kid needs therapy.

How about this from "Most Likely You Go Your Way and I'll Go Mine"

The judge, he holds a grudge

He's gonna call on you

But he's badly built

And he walks on stilts

Watch out he don't fall on you.

Ok, anyone else thinking this cou

ld be ripped from the pages of Dr. Seuss?

Jack Johnson's Shit Goes Platinum All the Time Thanks to You Fucking Morons

I'd seen the cover of this album everywhere back when idiots were buying it and only now looked up what it was called. It's called In Between Dreams, which about sums up how exciting it is. You know, like when you're sleeping, and you're not even dreaming. You're far more likely to enjoy a totally bonerless drunken blackout than any song on this album.


I think this review from Amazon says it all:
"it it was possible, i would have given this cd 6 stars... it's been on constant repeat in the background ever since i got this cd the day it came out (i pre-ordered it as soon as i heard word of a new jack johnson cd...gasp!) i have liked jack for several years, ever since his debut album 'brushfire fairytales.' since then, he's also come out with 'on and on,' (making this his 3rd) and i honestly would never be able to choose my favorite. he's got a soothing, raspy voice and perfectly harmonizing guitar, and he has such a way with words: he doesn't just write about love (although his love songs will make your heart flutter!) but he also writes about worldly issues that get you thinking."

Clearly, only morons like Jack Johnson. Yeah, this album really gets you thinking about how maybe you have some jello in the fridge or POSSIBLY about how you might want to learn how to play the guitar and/or surf. Or play the guitar while surfing.

Your dumbass friends are sure to play this during parties cos they think it's the PERFECT "chill" party music or sweet "beach" music, because we're always having beach parties and I'm ALWAYS wondering what the ONE PERFECT ALBUM for those parties would be. If there were some bizarre stipulation in which I could only ever go to the beach if I were also listening to Jack Johnson, I would forego the beach forever. And I like the beach. The fact that every album he has ever made has gone platinum makes me want to go on a killing rampage, but while drinking wine, petting my cat, and surfing. Congratulations, though, to this dude on guaranteeing himself an endless supply of totally chill, definitely a little fat, retarded, salty pussy.

Thriller - The album your Mom played at your Halloween Party, 10 years ago.

On the Occassion of the Week and a Half Anniversary of the King of Pop's death, Pitchfuck would like to uncover this hidden gem - Michael Jackson's "Thriller." Thriller is, according to the most cracked out waitress I used to work with, "ok pretty good and fun to get fucked up and dance to".

Based on what I've learned from YouTube, Dave Chapelle, and other outlets that prevent me from actually talking to black folks about this album, it is about a teenage werewolf who dances his way into the hearts and minds of a town where dancing is illegal.

The most striking thing about the tracks on this album are their titles, as they all allude to his pedophilic nature. Let me highlight a few for you now:

Baby Be Mine

The Girl is Mine

Beat It

Human Nature

P.Y.T (Pretty Young Thing)

Notice any similarities? That's right. These were all songs written and performed by none other than known kid-diddler MICHAEL JACKSON.

The music itself is most tolerable and filled with Jackson's falsetto, man-baby, pseudo-castrati, immortally pubescent, gender-challenging vocals, which really did the job for me.

In retrospect, I wish Paul McCartney had performed on fewer tracks than the one he sang on. The album is danceable, provided you're mega fucked-up and it's the weekend after Michael Jackson's death. Anytime after that, this music is most suitable for K-Marts wishing to get their shoppers to leave before they start inventory.