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 50 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 fauxhawk 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 said—in what seemed to be a sincere tone. We believed the silver-tongued-giant, but his lilting-voice hinted at something more, deeper—a rebirth. He wore a tight, black baseball hat low over his eyes and a loose-fitting, firmly pressed suit. Flows came easily to him, boasting with bravado 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 nighttime.

A Good Thing Is Wonderful by Lowdermilk practically begs reviewers to grab either or both adjectives from the title, and, hell, if the band or the album existed, I’d give them “good,” “wonderful,” and maybe even throw in “holy shit.” Straight up: this album would be one of the more impressive débuts of 2010 if it was or ever had been created by a band that was at some point formed. “Truckish Delight,” the first single from the album, is a stunner of a pop song (one imagines), while “Obdurance” builds on a backbeat so subtly and smartly constructed that it could turn any jaded hater into a believer, if anyone ever got a chance to listen to it. Anyway, leave it to a band that never arose from the still-pretty-grungy aural atmosphere of Seattle to effortlessly blend the noise symphonies of Animal Collective with the disaffected guitar rock of a foregone era and come out with something that sounds real—even if it isn’t. 8.3.

I Knew It Then as Purpose by 1605 would sound familiar. In fact, it would sound exactly like both of 1605’s previous efforts, neither of which existed either. But it’s also familiar in a more general sense: these would be the frantic, desperate noises of a band trying to grasp onto “what made us successful in the first place,” when all that made them successful in the first place was a lucky break and a semi-popular song (“Jacob”) that demonstrated an ability to mutilate power chords in a mildly entertaining way—had any of that ever happened. Anyway, despite what 1605 might want (if they were a real band made of actual people), don’t call this a comeback. They were never really here to begin with. 5.2.

LMNOP by Hangdog. L.A. rapper Hangdog might be hip-hop’s most unpredictable artist. From track to track and album to album, you never know if you’ll hear an impeccable lyricist at the top of his game or a shameless hack, squawking out another mediocre track about all his Benzes. LMNOP is further proof that you just can’t trust a man who can rhyme “Kilimanjaro” with itself and make it sound like a whole other word on one song (“Mt. Kilimanjaro”) and rap for nearly five minutes about “another turd in tha bowl” on another song (“Another Turd in Tha Bowl”). This album, like Hangdog’s entire career, is a long exercise in frustration. Of course, the most frustrating part is when you wake up and realize that you dreamed the whole thing when you fell asleep at your desk—and it wasn’t even that good of a dream. 6.1.

Belch by Kurt Cobain. After Cobain alterna-historically did not commit suicide and instead disbanded Nirvana in mid-1994 to try and “get away from all this shit,” he was lambasted by fans and critics and dubbed the “Yoko Ono of his own band,” according to no one. But when Cobain didn’t release Belch on February 14, 1996, he was suddenly just plain old Kurt again. This non-reissue of one of the greatest solo albums never to actually hit shelves or be an extant thing is a superb re-mastering of a theoretically masterful collection of songs. What’s even more surprising is that the never-before-heard songs left off the original (“Hey” and “Yardbird”) are just as powerful as the rest of the never-before-written-sung-or-played tracks. What an obscenely great album this would have been. Dammit. 9.5.

The Funniest Joke in the World by Plasmoid. Powerless pop. Thank God (if He existed) that this was never recorded. 2.6.

Radius Garden Non-Sparking, Non-Magnetic Corrosion-Resistant Garden Fork with Fiberglass Handle

It was five years ago this month that Radius Garden announced plans for a non-magnetic corrosion-proof pitchfork with a fiberglass handle, and over the half decade that followed, rumors of infighting over prong length and quantity, coupled with the underwhelming reception of their ”Non-Sparking Spade with D-Grip” left even the most faithful of R.G. fans wondering if they’d ever live see this day. Finally here, it’s safe to say the wait has not been worth it.

I wanted to like this fork, I really did, and it does have its moments of real ingenuity. Worriers of just how many prongs and at what length can rest easy. Taking a cue from post–Whitley Handles Ames True Temper pitchforks, it features five prongs and staggers them at just the right extension to make both haystacks and compost equally manageable. It’s also clear that Radius Garden did their corrosion-resistance homework, and left little chance of a rehash of the wear and tear concerns that plagued their 1998 release of the (allegedly) ”Corrosion-Resistant Rotary Tiller.” But this is where the positives end.

If you’re looking for faults, start with the handle. Sparks literally fly with such immediacy at the mere touch of the fiberglass handle that one wonders if Radius Garden thinks Coulomb’s Law is nothing more than a prime-time network procedural drama. Also, it seems as though R.G. didn’t fail to deliver on their promise of non-magnetism as much as they just plain forgot, which is the only explanation for a fork that in reality encompasses the magnetism of a young Hollywood starlet. While R.G. head Steven Turner did deliver on his (in)famous Nebraska State Fair announcement of a fork, ”more lightweight than a cloud on reefer”, he did so at the expense of sturdiness, to the point where it’s fair to question when the last time the multimillionaire was even faced with the prospects of joining an angry torch-bearing mob.

Stripping away context and forgetting the five-year wait and brash proclamations, it is possible to conclude that this isn’t nearly as bad as it seems. But context is as much a part of this pitchfork as its rubberized end grip. Whether it’s unfair to or not, we expect more from Radius Garden, and should assume they expect more from themselves. Some have said this signals the end of not only Radius Garden, but of the pitchfork as a viable gardening mechanism altogether. Let’s hope both prove to be untrue, but if Radius Garden has any plans of making that happen, they better not wait another five years.

(I Always Feel Like) Somebody’s Eating Me
Sweet Brains (Are Made of These)
Your Wrist Is on My List
Gnaw on Eileen
Totally Bit Someone’s Heart
Betty Gave Us Eyes
Maneater