The first, and last, music review I ever wrote
I was going through my old newspaper clippings the other day, trying to find something decent enough to convince an editor to hire me for some freelance work, when I came across an article that made me cringe with embarrassment.
I had forgotten about it until I saw Mike Reno’s face staring up at me from the first, and last, CD review I ever wrote. Re-reading it almost 10 years later made me hang my head in shame. It’s quite possibly the worst music review ever written.
But what really makes me want to crawl into a dark corner is that, at the time, I actually thought it was pretty good. What was I thinking?
It’s so bad I’m tempted to send it to journalism professors so they can use it as an example of how not to write a CD review. For instance:
1. Don’t spend the first 11 paragraphs writing about yourself. People don’t care about you. They’re interested in music. That’s why it’s called a "music review" not a "my life story review."
2. When you finally get around to actually writing about the CD, general statements like "it’s not good" or "the lyrics are cheese" show you know absolutely nothing about music. Which probably explains why you spent the first 11 paragraphs writing about yourself.
I need to right this wrong with a couple of long-overdue apologies.
To Loverboy: I listened to the album again and I still don’t like it. But you deserved a review that said more than, "I hated it." You deserved to have had your CD reviewed by someone smarter, more insightful and more experienced than me.
To the citizens of New Brunswick: I’m sorry you spent your hard-earned money to read this drivel. Oh, and I’m also sorry about the time the entire front page of the newspaper was taken up with a picture of me and a story about how a couple of birds flew down my chimney and crapped all over my apartment. It was a slow news day.
