I was a music critic for two years. When I started out, I was certain it was going to be my career path. By the end of the road, I was loathing myself and my writing more than I’d ever had in my life.

I had started to hate what I’d become a part of. And the biggest beef I had was that most music critics that get any kind of exposure don’t write like music enthusiasts. They write like essayists. The bulk of music reviews don’t read like a personal thoughts on a piece of artwork. They read like notes on a frog dissection. And like hundreds of other music journalists, I wrote like a frog dissector.

I don’t want to rip other people’s writing, so I’ll illustrate with an example of my own. Here’s how I’d describe my thoughts on Dinosaur Jr’s new track “Over It” in writing now:

“I really like the way J. Mascis hits the rhythm with his wah pedal. I whipped out the ol’ air guitar on that one.”

And here’s how I would have written it when I was writing music reviews:

“Guitarist J. Mascis’ wah pedal careens over Murph’s skull-shattering rhythms in a true return to “Green Mind”-era form.”

The difference is pretty apparent. The first bit reads like my thoughts on the song. The second reads like something out of a encyclopedia. Or something Robert Christgau writes. Sorry dude, I said I didn’t want to rip certain writers, but you’ve ruined music writing...probably forever. So many people emulate your writing, it’s a crime. Reading your stuff is like masturbating to an anatomy diagram.

It’s because of music writers’ self consciousness that such clunky stuff becomes the staple diet of the music press and can make or break a band. When I was writing reviews, I always felt like I had an English teacher hovering over me with a red pen, threatening to rip my “thesis statement,” my metaphors, or my grammar to pieces. So instead of writing like a music lover, I wrote like a college student. And I’m definitely not alone in this. If you read music reviews from Rolling Stone, Pitchfork, Prefix, Spin, or any other major publication, you get the impression that the writers are desperately trying NOT to sound like the common man, but H.L. Mencken with headphones.

The first person is never used. Words like “like,” “love,” and “had fun” are never mentioned. The word “song” is almost never written. Instead, expect to find “track,” “ditty,” “shimmy,” “waltz,” and “expose.” Reviews without stars, decimal points, or numbers to quantify their worth are rare. And it’s nearly impossible to read a music review, especially on Pitchfork or Stylus, without finding the word “esque” tacked to the name of other bands to provide comparison. Worth is measured by comparison, knowledge of music history, or familiarity with obscure bands with indie cred.

And finally, LIKING a band, an album, or a song, seems to be avoided like the plague. There is no “I enjoyed,” only “such-and-such an album is an enjoyable experience.” There is only approval and disapproval. The function of most music journalism is to either rip bands for sucking or elevate good work to the annals of music history. And there are plenty of times when a reviewer is too afraid to take either side. Ever wonder why so many reviews on Pitchfork hover in the 5.9-6.8 range? It’s not because it’s a mediocre album. It’s because the reviewer doesn’t want to look stupid if he’s “wrong.” I know this because I wrote for two zines with decimal systems.

But at its core, most music criticism, like any form of art criticism is inherently mean-spirited. It doesn’t function as feedback. It serves the reviewer, not the work. And it was when I realized this that I knew I couldn’t write music criticism any more. In the end, you’re writing about and sometimes tearing down something that is near and dear not only to the songwriters, but the listeners they’ve touched.

Of course, that hits to the heart of opinion journalism in general. I’d argue that music is different. Visual art, film, television, and even literature don’t come close to permeating the human experience like music does. Because of that, opinion beyond casual conversation with friends becomes nearly irrelevant. Because more than any other medium, music reaches people. And I think other music journalists should ask the question that I asked myself. “Why the hell is MY opinion any more important than theirs?”

I’d say to anyone who wants to write about music, don’t write to get noticed. It’s not good for anyone. Write the way you write in a journal, thoughts near and dear to you. Not others. Leave the musical experience open for those who want to find it.

*photo by [nati] on Flickr Creative Commons