Someone was bound to do it. There's been a lot of empty Pitchfork bashing since, oh I don't know, 2003 or so, but the very people who can have an impact in bashing them—fellow critics and fellow bands—have been mostly mute in words and action. But after James Jackson Toth fought Pitchfork's snark with (more factually-based) snark on his MySpace, The Airborne Toxic Event has written an similarly passive-aggressive rebuttal to their even worse-rating.

That indie bands wouldn't want to get into a spat with Pitchfork is understandable—it would be the equivalent of an 1890s low-level politician sleeping with William Randolph Hearst's wife. But it seems that a band has finally grown a pair big enough to take on Pitchfork, albeit in a retort so polite, you almost expect it to begin with "Dear Sir."

The Airborne Toxic Event's open letter to Pitchfork Media has, um, shocked some in the music industry world. Aversion called the band "crybabies" for saying it didn't care about Pitchfork scribe Ian Cohen's 1.6 rated-review, but writing 800+ words in response all the same. Lucas Jensen at Idolator has a graph-by-graph breakdown of where the Airbone Toxic Event is right-on and when they get silly. Jensen comes from a PR background, and he's seen just how damaging a bad Pitchfork review can be, no matter how inaccurate or poorly written the review. While Jensen admits that it's not worth it from a band's end to get into a pissing match from critics—and he's right—he makes a much more poignant suggestion towards the end of his analysis:

Honestly, everything about this, from the review to the letter, is so well-mannered as to be milquetoast. I feel like the only way The Airborne Toxic Event could have dodged either the "whiner" or "publicity-hungry" labels was to lash out. Go for belligerence! If you go in, go all in.

Prefix is not about to get into a pissing match with Pitchfork either. We are rivals and traffic competitors, but there's also a mutual dependence for news and insight (on the web, all competing sites are basically "frenemies."). But Jensen is right to point out that as responsible members of the music community, bands, fans, and even us critics can't let Pitchfork's abuses of its power go unnoticed.

I'd venture to say those abuses have gotten rarer in recent years. But as the Black Kids puppies and even their almost forgotten British Sea Power"rating" have shown, Pitchfork still has its moments where snark substitutes for substance and accuracy. Responding with an equally smartass letter won't help. Responding with unfiltered rage just may. I only hope that the rage can be better spelled and carefully argued than one in Kanye-speak.

While we're on the subject of classic yellow journalism, it's time to whip out this H.L. Mencken quote:

"Every normal man must be tempted at times to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin to slit throats."

The Full Letter is As Follows:

An Open Letter to PItchfork Media from the Airborne Toxic Event


Dear Ian,

Thanks for your review of our record. It's clear that you are a good writer and it's clear that you took a lot of time giving us a thorough slagging on the site. We are fans of Pitchfork.  And it's fun to slag off bands. It's like a sport -- kind of part of the deal when you decide to be in a rock band. (That review of Jet where the monkey pees in his own mouth was about the funniest piece of band-slagging we've ever seen.)

We decided a long time ago not to take reviews too seriously. For one, they tend to involve a whole lot of projection, generally saying more about the writer than the band. Sort of a musical Rorschach test. And for another, reading them makes you too damned self-conscious, like the world is looking over your shoulder when the truth is you're not a genius or a moron. You're just a person in a band.

Plus, the variation of opinions on our record has bordered on absurd. Most of what's been said has been positive, a few reviews have been on the fence and a few (such as yours) have been aggressively harsh. We tend not to put a lot of stock in this stuff, but the sheer disagreement of opinion makes for fascinating (if not a bit narcissistic) reading.

And anyway we have to admit that we found ourselves oddly flattered by your review. I mean, 1.6? That is not faint praise. That is not a humdrum slagging. That is serious fist-pounding, shoe-stomping anger. Many publications said this was among the best records of the year. You seem to think it's among the worst. That is so much better than faint praise.

You compare us to a lot of really great bands (Arcade Fire, the National, Bright Eyes, Bruce Springsteen) and even if your intention was to cut us down, you end up describing us as: "lyrically moody, musically sumptuous and dramatic." One is left only to conclude that you m ust think those things are bad.

We love indie rock and we know full well that Pitchfork doesn't so much critique bands as critique a band's ability to match a certain indie rock aesthetic. We don't match it. It's true that the events described in these songs really happened. It's true we wrote about them in ways that make us look bad. (Sometimes in life you are the hero, and sometimes, you are the limp-dicked cuckold. Sometimes your screaming about your worst fears, your most trite jealousies. Such is life.) It's also true that the record isn't ironic or quirky or fey or disinterested or buried beneath mountains of guitar noodling.

As writers, we admire your tenacity and commitment to your tone (even though you do go too far with your assumptions about us). You're wrong about our intentions, you're wrong about how this band came together, you don't seem to get the storytelling or the catharsis or the humor in the songs, and you clearly have some misconceptions about who we are as a band and who we are as people.

But it also seems to have very little to do with us. Much of your piece reads less like a record review and more like a diatribe against a set of ill-considered and borderline offensive preconceptions about Los Angeles. Los Angeles has an extremely vibrant blogging community, Silver Lake is a very close-knit scene of bands. We're one of them. We cut our teeth at Spaceland and the Echo and have nothing to do with whatever wayward ideas you have about the Sunset Strip. That's just bad journalism.

But that is the nature of this sort of thing. It's always based on incomplete information. Pitchfork has slagged many, many bands we admire (Dr. Dog, the Flaming Lips, Silversun Pickups, Cold War Kids, Black Kids, Bright Eyes [ironic, no?] just to name a few), so now we're among them. Great.

This band was borne of some very very dark days and the truth is that there is something exciting about just being part of this kind of thing. There's this long history of dialog between bands and writers, NME ripping apart the Cure or Rolling Stone refusing to write about Led Zeppelin -- so it's a bit of a thrill that you have such a20strong opinion about us.

We hear you live in Los Angeles. We'd love for you to come to a show sometime and see what we're doing with these lyrically moody and dramatic songs. We're serious about this stuff. You seem like a true believer when it comes to music and writing so we honestly think we can't be too far apart. In any case, it would make for a good story.

all our best--

Mikel, Steven, Anna, Daren, Noah
the Airborne Toxic Event

Letter can also be viewed at http://www.theairbornetoxicevent.com