Dreadful writing corner.
No, not my own for a change. Here's how an album review in the current issue of Atmosphere (usually abbreviated to ATM, appropriately enough) magazine opens:
Admittedly this is a genre magazine where every single review without fail is positive (I buy it for the cover CD and for an inkling of what's about to come out), yet this one is so completely sycophantic and over-the-top, going on to describe it as both "aurally satisfying" and as "aural sex, unsurprisingly", it makes you wonder whether it was either written by a slightly unhinged PR bod, or someone taking the piss by satirising the house style, succeeding so admirably that the editor failed to notice. The former it seems might be closer than the latter: a quick Google reveals that one of the reviewers, Jeryl Wilton, either works for or is aka Infectious PR, although the reviews themselves aren't by-lined so it's impossible to know whether (s)he was responsible for the DJ Fresh review.
Personally if I woke up with a beautiful woman fellating me, I'd be rather concerned with how she got in the house and worried about just how mentally deranged she would have to be to have made the conscious decision to perform a sexual act which gives her absolutely no pleasure in return to a complete stranger whose house she had broken into in the first place; then again, maybe I'm just thinking about this too much too deeply. Unlike the reviewer. Duh.
Getting a new DJ Fresh album in the post is like waking up with a beautiful woman fellating you; surprising, exciting and highly pleasurable.
Admittedly this is a genre magazine where every single review without fail is positive (I buy it for the cover CD and for an inkling of what's about to come out), yet this one is so completely sycophantic and over-the-top, going on to describe it as both "aurally satisfying" and as "aural sex, unsurprisingly", it makes you wonder whether it was either written by a slightly unhinged PR bod, or someone taking the piss by satirising the house style, succeeding so admirably that the editor failed to notice. The former it seems might be closer than the latter: a quick Google reveals that one of the reviewers, Jeryl Wilton, either works for or is aka Infectious PR, although the reviews themselves aren't by-lined so it's impossible to know whether (s)he was responsible for the DJ Fresh review.
Personally if I woke up with a beautiful woman fellating me, I'd be rather concerned with how she got in the house and worried about just how mentally deranged she would have to be to have made the conscious decision to perform a sexual act which gives her absolutely no pleasure in return to a complete stranger whose house she had broken into in the first place; then again, maybe I'm just thinking about this too much too deeply. Unlike the reviewer. Duh.
Labels: dreadful writing corner, miscellany, non-politics, reviews, silly season
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