Bands aren't the only ones being victimized. In their review of Radiohead's 2007 album In Rainbows, Pitchfork gave readers the impression that one could type in whatever rating they wanted into a small javascript box atop the article (38). This was a tongue-in-cheek reference to the initial fall release of the album, when fans could literally name their price -- even £0.00 -- to download the album as MP3s from the band's website. However, when one types in a rating on the Pitchfork review and then clicks the red question mark, it flashes "IT'S UP TO YOU." A second click on the red punctuation mark reveals, "NO REALLY, IT'S 9.3." Don’t worry, audience; Pitchfork has once again saved you from having to make your own decision.

So what can readers do? They can avoid Pitchfork's album reviews and end-of-year lists, sticking only to news and features. But this won't really hurt the web site. Furthermore, what can bands do? Even if they refrain from sending an album in to Pitchfork, the media organization has every right to obtain a copy some other way and post a review. What's worse is that the bands need this type of attention to make it past the "starving artist" phase. In today's music world, an artist's development is mostly self-directed, and a band is lucky if they can make a living with only their music. Music blogs like Gorilla vs. Bear could help a little, since they muster a lot of influence with very little content or action. However, more often than not, these types of blogs seek the same hype development as Pitchfork.

With that said, the website that everyone loves to hate isn't wholly to blame. Pitchfork isn't really the devil so much as it is a signifier of a devilish characteristic inside all of us. We are all relentless critics who spend a lot more time tearing creations down that building them up. That applies to the work of others, and the ideas inside of us that could potentially become artistic creations. As Palahniuk has the protagonist's mother proclaim in Choke, "We use criticism as a fake participation...It only looks as if we've accomplished something" (39).

The argument here is not that criticism is wrong. Criticism is probably just as old as creation, and legions of folks have made a living as professional critics. However, there is a direct relationship between a media organization's level of power and the caution they must exercise in their criticism. Professional criticism calls for tact, sincerity, and humility. Pitchfork abuses their power far more often than they exercise it in a respectable manner. Stated differently, assassinations should drop proportionately as power rises. Or as Alexander Pope put it (40):

And more concisely:

Pitchfork isn't creating. They're not contributing to the greater good. They're tearing apart the ones with the real bravery and courage: the artists. The bands are the ones putting their lives on the line for a dream. Pitchfork staffers sit comfortably in their Chicago office behind the Internet's digital mask, and rape the world with bogus reviews. They get away with it, because no one can come up with a way to eradicate them, or because no one has developed a better option. Meanwhile, they try to stifle the public's desire for a fully interactive music website, like IMBD has become for movies. But one thing is certain: Pitchfork's rule is coming to an end.

The Internet is too vast and too important to allow something so narrow and negative to exist. This is the age of Web 2.0, where everyone with an Internet connection theoretically has an equal voice. Pitchfork is simply a dinosaur that managed to evade the great asteroid death of traditional media. As quoted in the Wired article, Reed Parry of the Arcade Fire stated it well when he said, "Putting too much weight in somebody else's opinion of a piece of art, that is a dangerous thing. It's just a reaction. It's the last piece of the cultural puzzle, not the most important part" (41).

In Kovach and Rosentiel's words, "Facts are replaced instead by whatever sells--or can be sold. Spin replaces verification. Right becomes a matter of who has the greatest might--wattage, audience, rhetorical skill. In practice, unfortunately, the technological argument is the digital equivalent of tyranny, not freedom. Rather than liberated, we become captive to the technology" (42). Of course, this statement is based on the dwindling existence of conventional media on the Internet.

One more hurdle has appeared that could make mental captivity harder to escape. On April 7, 2008, the company unveiled Pitchfork.tv, a sister web site featuring music videos, documentaries, and other audio-visual content, streaming free of charge, 24 hours per day (43). The word television literally means a physical device as well as content, but this service proposes to do exactly the same thing as traditional TV. Television is, and always will be, the most passive form of media. As the world has learned since the television ownership became widespread in the '50s and '60s, the device is also the most conducive for controlling a population.

Pitchfork Media does provide a service to music lovers of the world, especially those with little former access to music or information about musicians. Although, they must change their ways and realize that only a humble approach to music news reporting will be rewarded in the long run. They need to open their eyes and see that success on today's Internet means user participation and interaction. They need to let loose their well-calculated gambling scheme of reviews.

Pitchfork is simply a dam built to hold back some of the flood that occurred earlier this decade, when independent music spilt into the general consciousness of society. If none of these suggestions are put into action, this dam will burst and the floodplain of music fans will once again be covered with the waters of musical chaos. That is, until someone new steps in to drain that wash sink and fill the real needs of passionate music fans without imposing a new tyranny.

But then again, why wait for the next flood?

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