Some clarification. Any time I post some old reviews that I wrote back in August, I inevitably get the same comments.
“I thought you weren’t reviewing anymore!”
“I thought you gave up on writing!”
“When are you reviewing the new Kiss box set?”
I’ll give you the same answer that my psychology professor gave us when we asked when he would have all our term papers marked: “On the 12th of Never.”
To be clear: I am no longer writing reviews.
Anything I am writing now is personal; nothing to do with trying to review anything. If whatever I write has something to do with music, great. If not, I don’t care. I am done with it.
Why bother? I get the same amount of views (or more) for copying and pasting a press release about a Loudness video. Or a Coney Hatch concert. Why should I work for two hours, three hours, four hours, on a review that gets as many views as something I copied and pasted from a PR company? I am burned out. That’s the blunt truth. Burned right out.
For the very best in original music reviews, I suggest you head on over to John Snow at 2loud2oldmusic. He works diligently every day to bring you music reviews and lists.
On the other hand, if you want to know what I am up to, what I’m watching on YouTube, or how I’m dealing with mental health, then you can stick around. I had a pretty good run. My reviews have been complimented by stars such as Dennis DeYoung (my childhood hero), F. Lee Harvey Blotto, and Dave Bidini. They’ve been criticized by others such as Kenny Hotz, Regina Banali, and David “D-Funk” Faulk. I’ve achieved a lot of what I set out to do 10 years ago.
It’s been fun but I am giving up giving a fuck.