This past Sunday, celebrated Washington Post music writer Jay Dot Freedom of the Lake wrote up a superb article on Ryan Schreiber, who, while deeply contemplating farm implements some years ago, hit upon the idea for the sine qua non online guide to the indie rock universe—Pitchfork Media. Launched from the Minneapolis home of his folks, Schreiber’s baby has since become something of a kingmaker. Cluttered with inside jokes and boasting writing several degrees more inscrutable than the untranslated Mahabharata, the site straddles the indie landscape like a colossus, wielding an influence that can make or break a band.
In relating the story of Pitchfork’s rise to prominence, Jay Dot Freedom of the Lake dwells upon one incident in particular that is of interest to area rock fans: the now infamous 0.0 rating bestowed by Pitchfork upon former Dismemberment Plan frontman Travis Morrison’s solo joint, Travistan. In the article, Morrison describes the Pitchfork review as having a near instantaneous, catastrophic effect on the way the record was received, bitterly alluding to the fickle herd mentality Pitchfork brings out of its readers:
“Up until the day of the review, I’d play a solo show, and people would be like, ‘That’s our boy, our eccentric boy.’ Literally, the view changed overnight…I could tell people were trying to figure out if they were supposed to be there or not…The review isn’t the story. The reaction to it is. The seriousness with which everyone takes Pitchfork is kind of mind-boggling.”
All of which begs a simple question: Did Travistan really deserve to get a 0.0 rating? Whether you think Pitchfork’s ten-points-to-the-tenth-of-a-point rating scale to be sensible or asinine, getting tagged with the Big Nil seems like a particularly awesome punishment. One would imagine that the sort of recording that rightfully deserves being assigned the null set would have to be a record of music with either outwardly evil intent—like an album of music written by zombie clones of Leni Riefenstahl—or an album responsible for literal, bodily harm—like Liz Phair’s eponymous 2003 record, which was pressed by underaged baby seals in a Burmese sweatshop, just like every record produced by The Matrix.
Travistan, a quirky, basement-tape style recording with deeply weird ruminations on coins and the most hummable tune about getting whanged in the mouth you’re likely to ever hear, is certainly no consensus fave. But still…a 0.0? Really? Truly? We want to hear from you on this matter. Did Travis Morrison deserve this ultimate beatdown, or was our native son unfairly ‘forked?
