I've been writing reviews. I'm often writing reviews. This is not a new thing, like that time I tried to sky-dive using one of those little pizza bridges as a parachute.
You are reading a blog post by Fat Roland.
One of the albums I was reviewing this week had a computer voice saying "You are listening to a promo of X by X" overlaid throughout the album. An audio watermark, if you will. I'm not going to name and shame, but it's a proper cool label with a proper cool reputation.
You are reading a blog post by Fat Roland.
I soooo wanted to give it a negative review. Its constant interruption felt like going to review a movie, and every five minutes having the person next to you shout the film name and director.
"You had me at hell--" YOU ARE WATCHING JERRY MACGUIRE BY CAMERON CROWE IT HAS TOM CRUISE IN IT "--o."
You are reading a blog post by Fat Roland.
As it happened, I quite enjoyed the album despite the digital Jiminy Cricket on its shoulder constantly ruining everything.
There's obviously a trust issue. I'd never leak an album I was given to review, but it must have happened a million times previously. One significant dance music label insists on only offering limited streams to reviewers, sometimes within incredibly restricted time periods.
Which is just stupid, because one and a half listens in, it disappears. Like having your gramophone nicked while you're flipping back to side b.
You are reading a blog post by Fat Roland.
It would be nice to have a bit more trust, especially when you're a seasoned hack at a respectable publication. Pfffrt.
You are no longer reading a blog post by Fat Roland.
Further Fats: Is Plaid's new album The Digging Remedy any good? (2016)
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