I Was Going to Refuse to Dignify That With a Response, But...

OK, first things first. This entry is exclusively for hardcore music geeks. Feel free to skip it.
Now.
I don't particularly like to go on rants. It makes me an annoying person, and whatever it is that's sent me off on a rant usually ends up making me pessimistic for a few minutes, which is not a good way to be. So I apologize in advance. But sometimes, righteous indignation is just so deserved...
It's so easy to rip Rolling Stone to shreds anyway, miserable piece of slanted, purchased "journalism" that it is. Never an issue sincere, never a positive review unpaid by the label, never an opportunity missed to blame everything that is wrong with the world on anyone that isn't politically off the map to the left. But I would like to direct your attention to a couple of years ago, when Rolling Stone published yet another of their ridiculous "Top x00..." lists, for this one really takes the cake, even more than the infamous Top 500 Albums of All Time, which admittedly started out with flair but quickly descended to ludicrous lows. I'm referring to the Top 100 Guitarists of All Time list. This is a blog, and I have unlimited space (thank you, Google, for purchasing the entire planet and giving it out for free), so I could put the whole list here for your reference, but that would be obnoxious, so just click that link. And then come on back.

Where on earth do I begin, and ultimately, what's the point of pointing out ridiculous oversights, ommissions, and subliminal marketing tie-ins in Rolling Stone? (Yeah, and cars have moving parts, right.) The more of a nerd you are, the more you could probably pick this apart. A lot of you are probably a lot wiser than me, so you'll probably pick up things I won't. But. A few thoughts:
70? After practically inventing finger tapping?
17? Wait. On the list at all? What?
Kurt Cobain over... Well, over 88 other guitarists?
No Alex Lifeson. No Paco de Lucia. No Django Reinhardt? No Chet Atkins?! Andy Summers, Phil Keaggy, Eric Johnson, Joe Satriani, the list goes on...
Greenwood/O'Brien but not Verlaine/Lloyd?

OK, it's absurd that a little list like this would put me in a negative mood, so I'm going to stop. In defense of Rolling Stone (and there's a phrase I never thought I'd say), I wouldn't want the job of putting together this list either. For every improvement I made, I'd add a shortcoming, I'm sure. I just wanted to point out that this magazine is absurd and should never be trusted for anything beyond flammability. Sorry to be all negative. See ya.

Kent

Discovery and Reward (or, Thanks for Your Attention)

Catchy music is an interesting and dangerous thing. A song with a good hook, a melody that you'll hum in the shower, etc. can be a good thing, but when catchiness is emphasized to the neglect of substance and EVERY other aspect of songwriting (I'm talking to you, Fergie et al), things are off base. That's not my point, but it's related.
In my quest for musical enlightenment and the sublime nirvana of exquisite taste, I find that I'm willing to be patient through songs that unfold more slowly, on more repeated listening than, say, "SexyBack." The pro to the situation is that I get the chance to appreciate things more layered and subtle than what's bumping in the Civic that's next to me with the purchased Type R sticker and ludicrously bush-league spoiler. The con is that I end up spending a lot of time convincing myself that I appreciate and understand something that ultimately turns out to be a waste of time, and I run the risk of ending up one of those people that's unable to realize that Sonic Youth ever put out something truly awful. "It's so weird, it must be brilliant," says the part of me that wants to be elitist. "I won't remember it when it's done," says the part of me that aches to return to being an average Joe Q. Listener. I'm caught between ridiculing the institution of music radio and admiring those who can make it there, being caught by a hook and looking down my nose at anyone who makes their music so obvious. And it's so subjective: why is "Robot Rock" more valid than "London Bridge"? (You could argue that emphasis on music without attention to the performer vs. emphasis on performer without attention to the music makes all the difference, and I know I'd agree with you, but the fact is, I'm still horribly capricious.) So when something happens like this morning, I have to just take it at face value as awesome.
Maybe you've experienced this. The order of events goes like this:

1. You get a new record.
2. You identify a few favorites.
3. You play them over and over and over and pump them every chance you get. ("Bro, you got the new Jeezy too? Check out track 6, dude. Seriously. Thank me later.")
4. The other songs take a back seat.

At this point, several things can happen. You may realize that "Toxic" is a genius piece of production and is awesome (before you point out my inconsistency, let me point out again the above formula of emphasis: song over performer) and justly skip the rest of the record forever, or you may decide that if one song is great, the rest of the record deserves your attention (Hello, "Flagpole Sitta"!) This morning, somewhere around the third and a half step of those first four, I jumped right to The Moment When I Decided to Just Play Through the Record In Order. You know that moment. And here's what I found, and the point of all of this. Maybe you can relate.
Track 1, nice. Track 2, nice. Track 3 is a segue, but hey, now that I've paid attention, it's become, in my mind, a composition worthy of its own attention. Now I'm in the zone. Track 4, one of those favorites, but I get to listen past what's immediate about it. Track 5, picking up details, diving deeper. Track 6, appreciating the layers, enjoying the discovery. And then, bam, track 7. Oh wait, this is one of the ones I skipped to before, and this time it ambushed me. I was so busy appreciating the record as a whole and the flow between things and the breathing space and natural progression and creative beauty and inspiring substance that comes about when not every song is a radio single that I completely didn't see this one coming. And, hey, what do you know, it's even better! It has a context. It has a home. And now I've gone from seeing the surrounding moments as padding on a present to being great in their own right.
Maybe I'm the only one I make any sense to. But I think that you may have experienced this before. If not, there's always a first time. Listen deeper. Or maybe just really listen.

Kent

Edit: I wasn't going to put in the actual names, just the tracks, for the universality of the message and all of that. But I caved. So. Track 7 is 'Turn On Me' on the new Shins record 'Wincing the Night Away.' At first you'll be ashamed of picking the obvious choice as your favorite, but then you'll dig it and realize you don't have to impress anyone.