But seriously, does anyone really listen to the Black Crowes anymore?
The Black Crowes are lashing out at Maxim magazine for reviewing the band's new album - apparently without actually hearing it first.
The review, published in Maxim's March issue, gives the Crowes' "Warpaint" a rating of two-and-a-half stars out of five.
"The writer - who has not heard the album since advance CDs were not made available - wrote what appears to be a disparaging assessment anyway, citing, `it hasn't left Chris Robinson and the gang much room for growth,'" said a statement on the band's official Web site.
The band's manager, Pete Angelus, said the magazine explained that its review was an "educated guess."
[,,,]
A representative for the magazine would not confirm or deny to The Associated Press whether the writer actually listened to the album. Instead, Maxim released this statement in response: "Maxim will continue to provide our readers with information that is important to them, whether it is about fashion, lifestyle, technology, music, movies and more."
Shocked, shocked I am that an august publication such as Maxim, the magazine that until recently employed Quote Whore Extraordinnaire Pete Hammond as their film critic, would fabricate reviews in this fashion. I fully expect Peisner to resign in shame at being caught out like this. You know, just like Mitch Albom did.
Anyway, I actually applied for Hammond's gig when he left the magazine. And by "applied" I mean I sent an e-mail to their contact address to throw my hat in the ring, pointing out that - since my name is also "Pete" - hiring me would lessen reader confusion at the transfer.
Still haven't heard back.
UPDATE:The magazine is now all apologies:
Maxim magazine has apologized for publishing a negative review of the Black Crowes' new album by a writer who hadn't listened to the whole CD.
[...]
Maxim editorial director James Kaminsky responded Tuesday with this statement: "It is Maxim's editorial policy to assign star ratings only to those albums that have been heard in their entirety. Unfortunately, that policy was not followed in the March 2008 issue of our magazine, and we apologize to our readers."
Maxim has "readers?"
I’m developing a theory — a Hypothesis of Appropriate Applications of Enhanced Interrogation Techniques, if you will.
See, I’m horrified when our nation does it. When our military does it. When our society, as whole, condones it or tolerates it. Torture. It’s very bad. It should never, never happen. It is degrading to every American when the American government, or the American military, or American law enforcement, tortures any human being. It must not be allowed. I believe that. I know it to be true. In my heart, and in my soul.
And yet… and yet… just as there are things the government has a right to do that private citizens do not, so, too, are there things private citizens have a right… nay, True Believer, even, a sworn and near holy duty… to do, that government must not sully its collective hands with.
This MAXIM thing is a case in point. No, it’s not the government’s place to waterboard, bastinado, rack, and/or defenestrate the entire staff of a magazine that publishes reviews for albums that the reviewer hasn’t actually listened to. Certainly, this is no matter for the military or the police. Yet, by the same token, if outraged Black Crowes fans everywhere rose up, kidnapped Maxim’s various editors from sushi bars across this fine land, deposited them in murky basements and then subjected them to grueling weeks of forced stress positions, sleep deprivation, and intense electrical shocks coursing through the soft tissues of the body, well, you can damn well bet that the next time somebody out there decided to try to pass them some sloppy, improperly researched work, they’d goddam well do the due diligence, figure out what was going on, and say “Oh no, laddy me buck, you’re not running this up our flagpole again, nosirreeBOB.”
With a quaver in their voices, perhaps. With the trembling fingers of beaten, broken men, possibly. But you can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs. (You can bake a cake, I suppose, if that’s what swivels your sidewalk. But it will be a damn sorry cake, mister. DAMN sorry.)
I can see from the doubt, no, the rank, naked PITY glimmering like a woman’s tears in the back of your eyes, that I haven’t convinced you. Fine. Perhaps, then, something like THIS:
INTERROGATOR: [calmly] Zo, then. Are you prepared to zpeak ze truth?
GL: [whimpering, his voice broken] I swear to God. I swear by everything holy. I always intended Luke and Lea to be brother and sister. It was planned that way from the beginning. Please. PLEASE.
INTERROGATOR: [peering at his victim benignly over steepled fingers] Iz it truly zo? Ah, mein herr, I zo vant to beleef you. And yet… what ov zee romantic keesses in EMPIRE STRIKES BACK? Theez zeemz… how would you Amerikanerz put eet… inconsistent… wiz your ztory now. Yezz. I very much zink zo.
GL: [frantic now] That was a rewrite! Swear to God, it was… Kasdan put that in! He knew better… he did it to SPITE me…
INTERROGATOR: [beaming, nodding happily] Zo? Otto, return Herr Lucas to ze Chamber of Infinite Pleazzzzzure. He ztill zeems… obdurate in hiz herezy.
GL: [screaming huskily, his voice nearly gone] No! No! For the love of Christ NOOOOOOOOOO….!!!!
You see what I’m sayin?
You’re damn right they do! I read it for the photos. Very educational. Cleavage teaches geometry.