Rejected Pitchfork Music Reviews

Shel Silverstein on Kanye West’s “The College Dropout”

It turns out that Jay Z’s producer
Is as cocky as a rooster
Dropping albums as an homage
To his dropping out of college
Rhymes are tight, Beats are brilliant
His career should be resilient
To the plagues of hip-hop fame
Like feuds with 50, or the Game
Or race-based presidential scolds
Or shutting down 19-year-olds.
I think he’ll play it safe; he sets his sights
On selling wax to whites.

Kurt Vonnegut on Sufjan Steven’s “Illinois”

Illinois is a state. It looks like this:

It is also an album by Sufjan Stevens. Sufjan Stevens is a singer and songwriter with a lot to say about Jesus. He told a bunch of people that he was going to make an album for each of the fifty states, which is a very silly thing to say. So far he has made two. This album uses a lot of bells and funny horns and sounds like winter. Listening to it is like sitting in church with mittens on. Mittens look like this:

Ernest Hemingway on Radiohead’s “Kid A”

I put the needle on and poured a drink and sat in the chair. The first song sounded mechanical. There was a keyboard and a voice but I wasn’t sure which was which and then there was another song that sounded like something you’d hear in a nursery and then a bass solo. The singer’s voice was high and the lyrics were about loneliness and the future. I turned the volume up and went to the window. It wasn’t rock and roll, but it was good.

William Shakespeare on Animal Collective’s “Merriweather Post Pavilion”

What boon is this?
Thy shim’ring cover doth contain
A wonderment of harmonies.
Why play guitar? Why drums?
Why verse or chorus?
Tis deconstructed Instruments
That speak unto my educated ear.
Tightened pants and faux hawk molded
Forth I go, beneath the speakers
Thank the stars this disc appeared
Their early stuff was way too weird

David Mamet on Death Cab for Cutie’s “Transatlanticism”

TWO MEN enter.

MAN 1

This album’s fucking great.

MAN 2

What?

MAN 1

I said it’s a fucking great album.

MAN 2

The guy’s voice sounds like a little kid.

MAN 1

What?

MAN 2

A fucking kid! But the lyrics are so…

MAN 1

Fucking deep, right?

MAN 2

Fucking deep, exactly.

MAN 1

Great fucking album.

MAN 2

Fuck you.

Stephenie Meyer on Jay Z’s “The Black Album”

“I’m retiring,” the rapper sed – in what seemed to be a sinceer tone. We believed the silver-tongued-giant, but his lilting-voice hinted at something more, deeper – a re-birth. He wore a tight, black baseball hat low over his eyes and a loose-fitting, fermly pressed suit. Flows came easily to him, boasting with brovado and swagger. 99 problems were what he had. From darkness, there was to come a response: One word: “Holla,” warbled high and clear in the air that was the air of the nightime.

Shit Storm

New Year, new post, new zany project.

Since I am quite obviously all about updating this blog, I’ve decided it’s time to start another one. In conjunction with my good friend Merredith Griffin I’ve launched a hot new entrepreneurial endeavor called “Coprocinephilia,” which literally translates as “the love of shitty movies.”

In recent years I’ve discovered a deep love and abiding affection for objectively terrible films. While there is no shortage of bad movie appreciation blogs out there, ours is the first to ask why. Why do so many people love to see movies fail at every possible level? What makes one bad movie more satisfying then another? And if we can find a way to judge them, is it possible to find the perfect bad movie?

To that end we’ve developed a scoring system largely based on feces, reasoning that:

A) Pooping, like watching bad movies, feels good while inducing shame.

B) Poop is funny.

Check out the site here. Let us know what you think and don’t hesitate to send more movies recommendations our way. In the end, there can be only one.