Fuck the Sixties. Overrated decade. Not a first round draft choice: the Sixties are the Ryan Leaf of decades. 1890’s blows away it away 1620’s? Now there’s a decade. As far as the past little bit of history goes, the Sixties are inarguably better than the Thirties or Forties; concentration camps were being built in the former decade, and employed in the latter. The Sixties saw no genocides, and I therefore must award it points on that front.
Seriously: no genocides in the 1960’s. I was sure I was going to find something horrific on the Wikipedia page, but I was pleasantly surprised by humanity.
Excuse me. The Great Leap Forward ring any bells?
That doesn’t count as a genocide.
Why not? 45 million people died.
Do not interfere in China’s internal affairs, running dog.
Besides, 45 million people sounds like a lot until you realize it’s China. 45 million people is, like, a mid-sized city. Their version of Cincinnati has 45 million people in it.
I repeat: wow.
And: don’t blame the Great Leap Forward. On paper, it was a great plan.
Why is it that everything Communists do only works on paper? And, no, the Great Leap Forward was not a great plan on paper. That drug-addled madman forced everyone in the country to move onto kibbutzes.
I don’t think they called them that.
You know what I mean. How about the backyard furnaces?
That was not Mao’s best idea.
No. Turns out farmers working in their sheds can’t produce commercial-grade steel. Ooh, ooh: how about the famines?
There may or may not have been a famine or two, but let’s not play the blame game.
We can place blame. When you plant an entire nation’s worth of food according to the ravings of Lysenko, then it is your fault when everyone starves to death that winter.
Lysenko’s theories worked on paper.
STOP SAYING THAT.
What the hell was I talking about?
Oh, yeah. Pitchfork made another list. Best EVAR shmecord almubs of the SIxties and frank bank mank burble.
You having a stroke?
Faking one to get out of looking at another list.
No one’s making you do this, man.
The muse is.
I hate you. Do the list.
Fine, but I’m doing it in bullet points.
No one cares.
- Right up front: the great Jesse Jarnow contributed to this Best EVAR and, you know, I’m not talking about him.
- Or any of the other writers.
- Okay, one of them.
- I’m not saying which one.
- I haven’t heard of half of this shit; I have no idea what a Peter Brötzmann Octet is, and I’m not about to find out.
- Well, now I’m curious.
- OH GOD NO.
- It’s like the part in Space that gets real noisey, but for eight minutes.
- This is Best EVAR material?
- Goddammit, Pirchfork, you’ve made it personal again.
- Every time I think I’m out, they pull me back in.
- Foreigners all have their own music, which is fine by me, but some foreigners’ music is just too damn foreign.
- Looking at you, India.
- Why can’t you be like Senegal, India?
- Senegal is foreign as shit, but their music is not.
- You, India, are also foreign as shit, and your music even moreso.
- That doesn’t make me racist, India; it makes you rude.
- (Not talking about the Bollywood stuff. The traditional sound. I feel the same way about microtones as I do about microdosing: if you must, you must, but I don’t need to hear about it.)
- If Alexander “Skip” Spence and the 13th Floor Elevators weren’t included on this list, Pitchfork would have been evicted from their offices.
- That was in Rolling Stone and Creem’s leases, as well.
- Boilerplate rental agreement in the Important Rock Critic business.
- So, so, so much jazz.
- My life got a lot better once I stopped trying to get into jazz.
- Phases TotD never went through:
- That is all.
- Are we in private, Enthusiasts?
- Do we speak quietly and just to each other?
NERVOUS LOOKING AROUND NOISE
- Never cared for Bob Marley.
- Interesting dude, but the music just does one thing over and over and over.
- Aw, shit, The Doors.
- Eat my ass, The Doors.
- I hope someone hacks your phones and shows the world your dick pics, The Doors.
- Your thin and wheezy mediocrity requires a transtemporal shaming.
- Ooh, look: Stockhausen.
- Someone tell Phil.
- Live/Dead is number 60, which is utter bullshit: Live/Dead is the 52nd best album of the Sixties.
- That’s common fucking knowledge, Pitchfork.
- Everybody needs to get their shit together.
- From 50 on, it’s mostly the Velvet Underground; I think they made up a couple albums.
Was there a point to all this?
Only if we emancipate our minds, seek truth from facts, proceed from reality in everything and integrate theory with practice, can we carry out our socialist modernization program smoothly.
Always a pleasure.