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http://www.pitchforkmedia.com/m/mascis_ … free.shtml
crap pitchfork review
This is one of the most ridiculous things ive ever read- im sure most of you will agree. this chris ott fellow is so full of shit- i bet he eats breakfast out of his cats litterbox.fixed the link for you, it wasn’t working properly
J Mascis + The Fog
Free So Free
[Ultimatum; 2002]
Rating: 5.6
When Uma Thurman left Amherst, she took a piece of J Mascis’ heart. His desperate love letters Green Mind and Where You Been used Dinosaur Jr. as a pen, and though "Thumb" and "Get Me" surely had her crying off camera while filming Pulp Fiction, their star-crossed junior-high romance lingered only as a painful memory. Skaters bought into trash-thrash like "Whatever’s Cool With Me" and "The Wagon", never knowing the torment that drove J to hard drugs. Cure fans enticed by their cover of "Just Like Heaven" predictably latched on to the ballads, while "Start Choppin’" drew in Red Hot Chili Peppers converts wanting more Blood Sugar Sex Magick. That these people heard Dinosaur Jr. records is not J’s fault: He only intended his music for Uma’s ears."Green Mind", the title track from his 1991 major label debut, crops up on Free So Free, its melody reprised for "Everybody Lets Me Down", which is telling: "Green Mind" was about Uma leaving Amherst. J had to reconcile her reasons as well as his choice to stay, and unsure, begged her for help: "It’s a call that’s tough to make/ It could be a big mistake/ Can’t you help move it along?" Of his friends, he said, "I can’t handle them for long/ They’re cool, but I need you/ On a certain level I think they’re great/ But on another I can’t relate/ To anything they do." A year later, emotionally devastated by the loss (which is all he can talk about in the Sonic Youth tour film 1991: The Year Punk Broke), J hit bottom during his despondent cover of Bowie’s "Quicksand" on Whatever’s Cool With Me, pining openly for his lost love. Where the original lyric bleats "I’m the twisted name on Garbo’s eyes," J ad-libs "I’m the twisted name on Uma’s eyes." It’s truly one of the most devastating moments in rock history, and it goes entirely unnoticed, buried in shrugs, stuffed animal album art and the unspoken prejudice that people who wore flannel didn’t have real feelings.
Once Uma hit it big, J was rudderless, running through chords he knew by heart; at the pit of his melancholy, he recorded "Feel The Pain", which repeats the mantra "I feel the pain of everyone/ Then I feel nothing" over and over. Kurt Cobain, a friend who’d asked J to drum for Nirvana before Dave Grohl came on board, had just committed suicide, and Uma’s face was everywhere thanks to Pulp Fiction. Mascis was propped up by Kevin Shields, whose shoulder he cried on through the mid and late 90s; though Sonic Youth wrote their biggest hit "Teenage Riot" about J after Lee Renaldo played on "Little Fury Things", they were enjoying massive major label support for their grunge-era material and had no time to help. On one hand I wonder how could they abandon their adoptive little brother, but that’s the problem with depression: You never see the signs until it’s too late.
J lost a couple of years to drugs before releasing a pair of emotional and physical rehab records: The acoustic greatest hits set Martin + Me, and Hand It Over, which laid his conflict bare: "There’s so much I need to be/ And its gotta come from me/ Sure not over you." By the time he’d fully scrubbed up, left Uma behind and prepared to re-launch his career in earnest with 2000’s More Light, most kids had no idea who Dinosaur Jr. were.
More Light was over the top positivity from a recovering addict, putting the lies junkies tell themselves to music: "Why does tomorrow feel/ Like a whole new love/ Like a whole new deal?" It’s difficult to listen to, and ultimately a frightening harbinger of relapse after the earnest steps forward J took on Hand It Over. Though Free So Free heralds further awakening in its title, it’s a distended reclamation, an artist reverting to their glory days in hopes of atoning for latter day sins. Half the melodies in "Set Us Free" are taken from "Out There", but the song only drifts on that snowy landscape, never culminating in an avalanche to compare with its predecessor’s chorus. "Tell The Truth" is the most unsettling piece of necrophilia on the record, a song you could sneak in anywhere on Green Mind if it weren’t so sonically lifeless. Though "Outside" is a fine and tidier reprise of the lighthearted "What Else Is New" from Where You Been, the lyrics to Mascis’ songs no longer resonate. He may not have realized how powerful his first person whining was in its simplicity, but now that he’s using nostalgia for fuel, there’s no sense of personal crisis or connection, no J behind the "I".
While writing Free So Free, Mascis learned of Uma’s impending return to glitz and glamour via Tarantino’s Kill Bill. The raging "Say The Word" and two tender, defeated ballads– "If That’s How It’s Gotta Be" and "Someone Said"– are clearly the only songs put together after he heard the news. The former is a bitter, sarcastic indictment of her decision to pursue celebrity; the latter pair hark back to the twisted misery of Dinosaur Jr.’s earliest material, when J still held on to hope that Uma would come walking back through the door. When his muse is ascendent, J is at his best, and as an e-mail excerpt that made the rounds on alt.binaries.uma-thurman late last year attests, there’s hope yet for a stellar follow-up to Free So Free:
"Really J, it’s for the best. We’re two different people now, we can’t give in to those easy old feelings. What we had was special…it was innocent, magical, and most of all, it wasn’t real. We were bouncing back giddy passion and foolish conviction, things we only wished we understood. Don’t think I’m turning my back on you, J, don’t ever think that. I still daydream of us dancing beneath the high tension wires, hiding schnapps under our coats and checking each other’s breath, but we just can’t carry each other around anymore J, it’s time we move on.
Love,
Uma"
Come on, Pitchfork. Really. Are you guys that desperate? You take a joke that J made himself in 1991, a joke that stopped being funny or interesting about ten years ago, you drag it out for an entire review, and use it to trash J’s new album and — why the hell not — his entire career? How creative!
That said, there is one thing that — sadly — I cannot deny agreeing with:
The lyrics to Mascis’ songs no longer resonate. He may not have realized how powerful his first person whining was in its simplicity, but now that he’s using nostalgia for fuel, there’s no sense of personal crisis or connection, no J behind the "I".
Not clever at all
Ridiculous, definitely Lame, no doubt about it Litter box muncher may be to nice of a characterization for the guy, he provided such a far from brilliant attempt at a humerous trashing of someones whole career, not to mention Free So Free…but it’s a start 
Do I agree with the final grade? Yes, it was an "average" release from J.
Do I think any of the first 8 paragraphs have anything to do with anything? No.
Now, who was it like 3 weeks ago that was defending Pitchfork for their great jorunalistic qualificiations despite my protests?
I Disagree I think the review was cute and had some heart. except for the part of depicting J as a junkie. Chris Ott is the guy that wrote the thing for YLAOM as one of the tops of the 80s and I think he obviously is familiar with all of the dinosaur jr albums.
The review could be hazardous to anyone who doesn’t know that it’s all a joke.
…so it’s a joke, kinda like the skydiving thing that everyone bought with Free So Free
The junkie bit pissed me off as well, if he had said lost J to soap opera’s for a couple years then I proabably would have Never Bought It 
That review while cute in an off center kinda way could be hazardous to anyone not familiar with J who was thinking about checking out previous releases
But Hey! as long as he loved YLOAM I think I can get past the junkie thing…but the rating, I Don’t Think So…:aliensmile:"everyonelovesjaron" wrote:Now, who was it like 3 weeks ago that was defending Pitchfork for their great jorunalistic qualificiations despite my protests?Me! That was me! I did that! Doesn’t mean I agree with everything they say, though.
From teamnull.com (whoever they are…), from their "Donkey of the week" section, nominating a certain Pitchfork editor:
Critics. Hmmm. According to Webster’s Dictionary Critic can be defined as follows:
1. One who forms and expresses judgments of the merits, faults, value, or truth of a matter.
2. One who specializes especially professionally in the evaluation and appreciation of literary or artistic works: a film critic; a dance critic.
3. One who tends to make harsh or carping judgments; a faultfinder.Personally I would like to believe that most critics subscribe to definition #1. I am not a big proponent of a professional critic. The idea itself somehow makes my stomach ache. For what criteria do we use to measure the qualifications of a critic? I mean to say: why do we tend to let, for instance, a magazine such as Rolling Stone, or Spin, or online sites like Pitchfork (http://www.pitchforkmedia.com) and College Music Journal (http://www.cmj.com) dictate to us what is considered good? Most of these organizations for instance make a living through sponsorships which can be specific record labels and can result in biased opinions, or even the recent debacle with CMJ admitting to distorting college radio playlists. So how are we to decide who we can trust? And why am I interested in writing about this subject?
First, I think you need to listen to your own instincts when gauging wether or not a critic of any medium is any good. Specifically, ask yourself why this particular entity is a critic. Is it for a love of the medium? Is it a failed attempt at creating art? A means of revenge? Furthermore I think we need to look at the style of review. Far too often we read through these various mags or skim these sites because they cater directly to our tastes. A fan of NSYNC need only look at the gospel of Teen Beat to find the catch all interests of their favorite heartthrob without looking any deeper into the song writing, and stylistic nuances of a production house like Sony, or Electra, or whatever because I am convinced they are all the same. Meanwhile, your trendier Avril Lavigne or Nora Jones fan might subscribe to the pulpit of Rolling Stone or Spin and feel pretty hip. Those of us that consider ourselves even more in the "know" might actually get high and mighty by reading Pitchfork online. And this is all fine and good until you begin questioning their reviews.
I was perfectly content with my horse blinders on. Until Pitchfork did the unthinkable. They gave J Mascis and the Fog the most horrific review and rating. And this gets to the point of this mini-rant of mine. What the hell were they thinking? What were they smoking? And what have they ever done to deserve the role of critic?
Reviewed by Senior Editor Chris Ott (ott@pitchforkmedia.com) gave this masterpiece of a record a 5.6 and ranted continuously about Uma Thurman. Now, I am not a printed critic, and I am not the most objective person on the planet, but surely someone that is at least familiar with J Mascis should be writing this review. Otherwise what is the point? I mean, you don’t have a fan of Britney Spears review a J Mascis record because they are destined to miss the point, or flip out at the shear presence of the phallic guitar noises that J produces from his MARSHALL stack. And you wouldn’t expect a fan of J Mascis and the Fog to review the pop sensations and artistic dance moves of a Britney Spears. The bottom line is this: Chris Ott needs to stick to listening and reviewing records by Britney, Christina and every other boy band that gets his pulse pounding, because he doesn’t know what the fuck he is talking about. He obviously subscribes to definition 2 of critic: One who specializes especially professionally in the evaluation and appreciation of literary or artistic works: especially a dance critic. Free So Free is a 10. Or maybe this review goes up to eleven.
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