It's a sad day for me.
While I am always somewhat loathe to admit it, I've been an inveterate Pitchfork reader for years.
But, following the recent news that the loved (and hated!) music website will be swallowed up by GQ, I sense the end of an era.
It's impossible to understate the influence that Pitchfork has had on my musical taste and interests. While the site has always enjoyed a reputation as a tastemaker within the "indie" music scene—Arcade Fire, Sufjan Stevens, etc.—it made a huge leap in the past few years, covering nearly everything except classical music, from jazz to country to hip hop to electronic to ambient folk. There was a voraciousness to the coverage that conveyed a sheer love of listening to music.
This final, expansive incarnation of Pitchfork embodied the idea that music can be many things. There is music to put on in the background, sure, and music to dance to. But there's also music as criticism; music as social commentary; music as a logic puzzle.
In short, there's music that challenges us. Music made by musicians who think a little differently, who may have different goals for their music from what we're used to.
Pitchfork, for me, was always slipping these recommendations into my life. I didn't always like the music, but liking it wasn't really the point. The point was opening my ears—and my mind—to something new. I always felt that Pitchfork and I shared the unstated belief that to not listen to new music was to encase your taste in amber, to trap your preferences in your own past, to not grow.
When it came to growing my music taste, Pitchfork was the ultimate supplement. I'll miss it.
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