Cut Copy have a “limited palette” (cokemachineglow.com), and they excessively “get… to the point” (pitchfork). Just to preface this, cokemachineglow are a bunch of stuffed musical terds, to paraphrase Bukowski, and they would not be satisfied without a portfolio — a sort of proof of the artist having obnoxiously turned over every stylistic stone availably extant. They give grades, not nods. But in this, they’re not always baneful, though the writing is generally ornate and tangential.
Pitchfork, in handling Cut Copy, I find to be blatantly wrong on a semantic plane. First of all, they claim that the former C-squared singles sound “wishy-washy” and “dark” compared to the new material — two terms that are oxymoronic. This word-salad review of Free Your Mind, while bizarrely abject, as referenced earlier, seems to suggest that only “hippies” write good songs. Everyone else should coat their sandpaper structures in stylistic veneer to the point of infinite-subterfuge irrelevance and what apparently applies today as “coolness”; see Disclosure, Daft Punk.
I’d looked at Cut Copy’s review, and then I was going to look at Kanye West’s review, in order to discern what words in the English language now have no meaning. The truth is, that neither the pitchfork review of Free Your Mind, nor the cokemachineglow thereof, would be worth mentioning at all, except that these are such widely read journals. Somewhere, songs got thrown under the bus. Hey, we can’t all have an inner serenity.