Hi, I’m Meathead. As you may recall, I’ve posted several articles here on Buddyhead over the past few weeks. But it’s all been a sham. I thought I could get away with it, but I soon realized that I had underestimated the intelligence of the average Buddyheadite. I now know better, and I hope you can forgive my mistakes.
When a person, regardless of sexual orientation, logs on to the internet and surfs to Buddyhead.com, they come to be informed of the latest happenings in the music business (or “biz,” as they’re calling it these days). People, like you, are very busy with everyday things like work, school, kids, mortgages, band practice, fixing that damn screen door again, Clive Barker novels, angioplasties, earwax, robbing Office Depot at knifepoint, potstickers, prayer meetings, getting your necktie caught in the ATM, oil changes, laundry, waterboarding, wearing form-fitting rubber suits, the Yankees, pushin’ th’ little daisies and makin’ ‘em come up, store-brand barbecue sauce, tax returns — you know, the daily grind. You simply do not have the time to sift through a bunch of unnecessary tripe, like a photograph of Hulk Hogan on acid. I mean, honestly, why should that even be on Buddyhead? What does it have to do with music, or anything else for that matter? No, you don’t want to see Hulk Hogan on acid. You come to Buddyhead for the straight-up facts; nothing more or less. You deserve to be presented with quality, informative writings, accompanied by relevant and visually appealing images.
When I first heard that Buddyhead was looking for new contributors for their website, I have to admit I got really excited. I thought it would be my big chance to finally be “in with the cool crowd,” or “down with the in crowd,” or whatever their slogan is. I’d finally have something more interesting to talk about at parties than the history of aluminum foil. Well, first I’d actually get invited to parties, and then I’d have something more interesting to talk about while I covertly transfer the contents of the cheese platter to my jacket pockets. I’d also get to finally have a cool haircut and maybe even get one of those wallet chains. All I had to do was convince Aaron (North) and Travis that I’m a normal person who enjoys and knows a lot of things about music.
I have to be honest here. I don’t really know a lot of things about music. I mean, I know who Eddie Vedder is, but I wouldn’t say that makes me an expert, and therefore I wasn’t sure I could even be a Buddyhead writer. But then I remembered those famous words uttered by Thomas Jefferson just before he was shot by Mexicans: “Fake it until you make it.” So I faked it. I wrote a letter to the Buddyhead guys telling them I know a lot of cool stuff about today’s music and that I have many rock stars’ phone numbers in my Rolodex. As proof of my alleged expertise, I lifted a review of some popular new band from the trendy Pitchfork website and attached it, along with my résumé, to my application. I don’t know why I thought Aaron and Travis wouldn’t catch on to my blatant plagiarism, but wouldn’t you know it, they didn’t. Aaron wrote back a short time later to tell me I’d gotten the job! Aaron reminded me, however, of the responsibilities that come with this prestigious job. He told me to stick to serious music journalism only: “None of that Meathead Perspective shit here, brah, this is Buddyhead!” Wow, it was so easy! He even referred to me as “brah.” I was finally a brah!
Unfortunately, due to my relatively low IQ, it didn’t occur to me until numerous hours later that I would need to find a way to maintain this façade of brahness. Certainly I couldn’t continue stealing ideas from Pitchfork. After giving it some earnest thought, I decided to take a break for a while, and do some Crown Royal shots while watching CNN. Suddenly, as if by magic, I broke free from the soothing, hypnotic trance caused by the whiter-than-whiteness of Lou Dobbs’ teeth, and the thought hit me: why don’t I just try to bullshit my way through it? It doesn’t matter what I say as long as I sound like I’m right when I say it. I mean, it works for Lou Dobbs.
And that’s exactly what I did. I wrote some articles which I thought would appear informative enough to pass muster at Buddyhead, then sat back and waited for the cool points to start racking up. Boy, was I in for a surprise! Turns out that my lack of knowledge didn’t go unnoticed, after all. I was quickly scolded by a number of eagle-eyed readers for not doing sufficient research before critiquing hot bands like Radiohead, Phil Collins, and So-And-So and the What’s-Their-Faces. Most recently, I attempted to review a new music video by the musical group Crystal Castles, and was immediately shot down. Apparently I’d gotten many crucial facts wrong, things that any real journalist would have known. I thought Crystal Castles had gotten their name from a computer game, but instead they got it from somewhere else. Rats! These glaring inaccuracies rendered my point, that the video sucked, completely and irrevocably moot. And more importantly, I had tarnished the Buddyhead name that Aaron and Travis had worked so hard to build over the years. For this, I am deeply sorry.
I can only hope that they, and you, can forgive my careless and grossly irresponsible charade, and allow me to continue my tenure here. While I may not be as “in the know” as the rest of you, I promise that I will do my best to educate myself as much as I can before writing about the artists you hold near and dear to your hearts, lest I offend anyone yet again. That is simply not what Buddyhead stands for.
Thank you for your understanding,
Meathead
P.S.: I was going to dedicate this column to the memory of Charlton Heston, but I don’t really want to get shot in the afterlife, so n/m.
P.P.S.: Vampire Weekend sucks so hard. I mean what the hell.
