I have to confess to a mild fascination with Pitchfork's infamous review of Black Kids' Partie Traumatic. Part of it is that Pitchfork's credibility took a hit as far as I'm concerned. I still look to them more than anyone for tasteful choices in new music, but that's been dialed down a notch now that they've chopped down not just an artist that they championed, but the same songs that they championed and without any explanation as to why. In that one review, a publication whose sincerity I had loved so much suddenly seemed all too self-aware of their status as tastemakers, and decided to play around, enjoying reversing their raves not out of any real change of heart, but just because they could. It kind of pissed me off, not enough to make me stop reading, but enough to make me raise my Eyebrow Of Skepticism (it's the left one) at their "Best New Music" ever since.

Black Kids, "Look At Me (When I Rock Wichoo)"
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I think one of the biggest shames in Pitchfork's unexplained about-face is that a sincere lover of good-time pop music should love this record. It's 80's-aping and faux-Brit (they're from Florida), but it doesn't matter with songs like this. You have the Go! Team-style cheering and choruses that are catchy as hell, there's the disco beat with the dance floor cooldown in the middle, and it's all done with a genuine love that's hard to resist.

It may not be genius or an instant classic, but what I always respected about Pitchfork is that they could judge records by their artistic intent, knowing when to shrug off an artist's gimmicks (see: Vampire Weekend) or shortcomings to figure out what they're after there and rate the record on that. Maybe they had some good reason for panning Partie Traumatic, but since they never bothered to tell us what that was, I'll tell you now: it's a blast. Nothing more.