It’s been said that writing about music is like dancing about architecture – flawed, futile, even downright ridiculous. People have been criticising the place and purpose of music journalism for as long as journalists themselves have been critiquing music, but its relevancy is getting called into question now more than ever. What authority does a journalist have; what gives their opinion any more weight or validity than anyone else’s? With sales of physical media making up a small percentage of how the public engages with music, reviews don’t provide the consumer friendly role they once did. There’s no money on the line anymore, nothing to lose, you can just press play and decide for yourself. In fact, there’s all the music in the world at your fingertips, available to be listened to anywhere, at any time, at the mere push of a button. So, what role does music journalism actually serve in the age of streaming?

Let’s get the cynical answer out of the way first, shall we: reviews are an important promotional tool. It’s never been easier for an artist to share their music with the world, but it’s still a major challenge getting the world to listen. There’s more new music coming out than ever before – and that’s just new releases mind, that’s not even considering all the decades of back catalogues available to peruse. How do record labels, promoters, artists themselves etc. direct attention to one particular record when there are so many on offer. While music journalists are not the tastemakers they once were, what’s important is that they are talking about music. Ideally, they’re generating conversation about releases that few people would otherwise be talking about. In the world of social media, there’s no such thing as good press or bad press. So long as people are talking, it feeds into algorithms, it spreads, maybe even trends, and the conversation reaches people it may otherwise have passed by. All it needs is someone to start talking about it, and reviews can be the spark an artist needs to reach a wider audience on social media. 

That’s not to say algorithms are inherently useful or benevolent when it comes to reaching new listeners. In fact, they’re often rather limiting. They’re trained on the data you give them, with the intention of recognising patterns and figuring out what the next number is in the sequence. What this means is that they can’t show you anything new. Not really. Sure, Spotify may start playing a track from an artist you’ve never heard of, but it will be in the same wheelhouse as other songs you’ve been listening to, because that’s all it knows. The algorithm can only deliver variations on a theme. It will keep churning out different shades and hues of the same colour and leave you blind to the rest of the spectrum. Often the best discoveries in life are made when you step out of your comfort zone. The best song you’ve ever heard could be completely unlike anything you’ve ever heard before. For example, you might never discover a newfound love for jazz, or metal, or hip hop, if you’re just presented with a conveyor of folk songs based on the last folk song you listened to. The algorithm can’t get you there, it requires a human touch, and a trusted voice of a reviewer, whose tastes you align with, can open up those new horizons. 

“Okay, so just share the music and spare us the essay!“. Art isn’t supposed to be content made for mindless consumption, you’re meant to engage with it. It’s there to provoke a reaction. To make you think, make you feel, to start a discussion. Whether a review is picking apart an album you enjoyed, waxing lyrical about something you just don’t get the appeal of, or even putting into words what you’re already thinking. Agree or disagree, it has got you thinking, pondering a different perspective. Likewise it’s important for artists to get an outside opinion in order to hone their craft. To find out what’s working, what’s connecting with people, and how to develop their sound on future projects.  

No matter how thought-provoking a review might be, what purpose does describing music serve when the reader could just listen to the song for themselves? If a picture is worth a thousand words, how many is a song worth? You could spend an hour reading a comprehensive essay about a track, and still hear details they left out once you actually press play for yourself. Imagine a writer, looking out upon a stunning vista, and describing the sight. Their words can’t capture the moment as accurately as a photograph, and won’t fully convey the feeling of seeing it in person. However, there’s still meaning in what parts they do talk about, how they describe the feelings it instils in them, what they choose to highlight versus what details they omit. Music itself is as much about what it omits, the moments left to silence, as it is about the notes being played. The best break-up songs can’t fully capture the pain of a broken heart, the most adroitly written love song can’t replicate the buzz of a first kiss. Just because you can’t encapsulate a feeling it its entirety, doesn’t mean you can’t do your best to offer a glimpse. Isn’t that kind of expression what art is all about? It the right hands, can’t writing about art be artistic in itself? 

On a wider scale, we as a society get the art we deserve. If we don’t engage with it critically, don’t dig deeper, just shrug our shoulders and let it fade into the background, then music as a whole will become more mindless and shallow. However, if more people are encouraged to pour over meanings within lyrics, or engage with new styles outside their comfort zone. If artists are praised and appreciated for trying new ideas and setting their ambitions higher, finding new ways to tell stories and express their emotions. All of that promotes a richer and more varied musical landscape.