Lead the Revolt, Dusted

I'm beginning to blab about Travis Morrison the way Tom Breihan does Lil' Wayne, but Dusted put up a wonderful defense of All Y'All today that, while slightly picky (guy doesn't like the words "misstep" or "inadvisable" in record reviews; that's the breaks, kid), succeeds at cutting down the "Pitchfork mentality" that prevents kids from hearing a record for themselves, without vengeful zeal. I'm seriously elated at all these people coming out of the woodwork apologizing for tearing down great records by the most consistently inventive alt-rocker of all time. Just a reminder: of course I believe everyone's entitled to their opinion; I just wish I wouldn't have to suspect it's not their opinion. The All Y'All reviews aren't reactive either; I'm as big a Travistan fan as could be, even more than Anthony Miccio, and All Y'All is even better.

For the record, I have a love/hate relationship with the 'fork. I can't complain about yesterday's 9.3 for Strawberry Jam or last week's 9.0 for Jens Lekman one bit after a year of wrenching BNMs from Liars to Deerhunter to Menomena to Simian. Justice and Battles were OTM, too. But those are rarities. There's a kind of record I usually love that they always don't. And that's the transitional pop experiment: New Wave, Under the Blacklight/More Adventurous, Liz Phair/Somebody's Miracle, The Instigator, and arguably, Tallahassee. They also have a history of unnecessary harshness on lyrics that incorporate an awkwardly adult and unhip sense of humor: Clem Snide, Paul Barman, our boy Morrison. And it's bullshit they can't just enjoy Gogol Bordello already.