You Bastid Kid Get Off My Lawn

You know, as a rule, I try not to say anything bad about my rock critical colleagues, all of whom I consider to be splendid fellas and gals with impeccable manners and grooming (and I say this as somebody who once saw Richard Meltzer take a pee on the centerpiece at a fancy press dinner. Hey, we were all young once).

Nevertheless, I must admit I find this guy largely insufferable, and not just because he seems incapable of writing anything about an artist without at least one mention of his or her most recent Billboard chart position.

Then again, the pop/rock criticism over at the New York Times has always been a little disappointing, especially when compared to their film criticism. Say what you will about the otherwise estimable Jon Pareles, but he's nowhere near as entertaining as A. O. Scott.