This could become a habit. For the second time in a few months, I find myself picking up a real live music magazine. This time it’s Uncut, to which I was never particularly loyal even when I did read such things on a regular basis, but there’s a cover story about one of my favourite American bands, and a review of a box set by the other one, plus some other intriguing stuff, so, well, sorry, Mojo.
One thing that’s changed since I did regularly peruse Uncut (and Mojo, The Wire, NME, Select, Vox...) is that each review now carries a score, a mark out of 10. Journalists don’t usually like doing these, as it appears to reduce critical engagement to some kind of mathematical construct, but apparently the record companies do, so the advertising departments do, so they happen.
The odd thing is that, in this edition of Uncut at least, pretty much all the given marks occupy a small space on the scale, a critical cluster. They’re either 7/10, 8/10 or 9/10. Nothing’s truly dire, but nothing’s utterly brilliant either. Don’t frighten the horses, whatever you do. Even the album of the month (by Gorillaz), only gets a 9. Maybe it’s a quiet month, or maybe that’s what music’s like nowadays. In any case, it does make the whole process seem a bit pointless.
Wait, though – what’s this? Tucked away on page 33 is a soundtrack album by Jon Wilding and Biggi Hilmers (of whom I have never heard) for a documentary called Wilding (of which I have never heard, again) and it actually manages to disappoint the writer so much that it only scrapes 6/10, three lesser than Gorillaz as Nigel Tufnell might have put it. Which surely isn’t truly bad, but possibly edges into being mediocrity-adjacent. Here’s a bit. Go on, you decide.
