Pitchfork founder Ryan Schreiber on the rise of LA's music scene
Pitchfork has become a dominant voice in the music industry by discovering and highlighting artists who frequently become the next big thing. The website has been credited with helping launch bands such as Arcade Fire and Bon Iver way before they went on to win Grammys.
The website, which launched in 1996, rates albums on a scale from zero to 10. A positive review can launch a band’s career, while a negative review can derail, if not help end it.
For the past couple of weeks, the website has stationed itself in Los Angeles to broadcast an online radio station called Pitchfork Radio. The station streams live from the Ace Hotel in downtown and features DJ sets from local record shops and labels, as well as live performances and interviews with local bands.
Pitchfork's founder Ryan Schreiber spoke with John Horn about the web radio experiment, how the website has grown to become a prominent source for music, and why Los Angeles may be the new center of music.
Interview Highlights:
Welcome to Los Angeles! You just moved here?
Yeah, I just moved here a couple of weeks ago.
So was that driven by the lifestyle, the music scene, or both?
A little of both, but it's actually for personal reasons. I'm from Minneapolis, originally, and I moved to Chicago when I was 22. I stayed there for eight years, and then moved to New York and stayed there for eight years. Now I'm here.
So in another eight years you'll be gone?
Moving to Vancouver?
[laughs] I don't know where I'll be moving to, but I'm happy to be here.
Coinciding with your arrival in town is your launch of Pitchfork Radio. How did that come about?
We've actually been wanting to do a radio station for about a decade. In 2005, we started looking seriously at having an online radio station, and we started to dig in and do the work to figure out what it would cost and what the licensing would be like.
But the technology wasn't as advanced at that time and the streaming was a lot more expensive, so we just opted not to do it at the time. But it's something we've always wanted to do.
So you're working with local record shops in getting DJ sets from them and you're hosting live performances from L.A. bands. Are you trying to focus on artists who might otherwise not get attention? How are you curating your playlist?
We're going for a little bit of a community radio vibe, and we're really trying to have a loose and relaxed tone. But we are reaching out to tons of people from L.A., so we've had people in from Origami Vinyl, from dublab, and just people we think have good taste in music.
Do you see it as part of growing the Pitchfork, dare I say, brand?
A little bit, yeah. We're always trying new things and we like challenges. People were saying, "Print is dead," and we made this inverse move to start a quarterly print publication. And people have been saying, "Commercial radio is dead," so we [thought], This is an interesting challenge and it's something that we want to do and we feel like we can do it well.
The response has been really, really good, and we've been really pleased with how it's come together. It's something that we're definitely going to continue.
To use a music analogy, Pitchfork kind of started off as a garage band, in terms of the site's size and reach, and now you're basically playing stadiums. How do you make sure that Pitchfork retains the integrity, the snark and the freedom that it had as a start-up?
I think it's a little bit easier to do with music criticism because critics are critical, they're snarky, and that's just part of our identity. It's always been a reflection of who we are as people and who we are as fans, and even though it's much larger than I ever expected it to be, many of the people who are working on it today are people who were there from the very beginning.
Why do you think your website became such a go-to source for criticism, especially within such a specific niche of music?
We had a very specific taste and a very specific identity in terms of how we approached music. Particularly in the early days, we were quite unprofessional and we would say things that really crossed the line.
Or post videos that crossed a line?
[laughs] Yeah, I don't know. We definitely wouldn't pull any punches whatsoever when it came to critiquing the music or the perceived character of the artist in some cases. We were about bringing down the "sacred cows" of alternative music, and a lot of it was just fun; we didn't feel like anybody was reading us, and none of the artists were ever going to see what we were saying, so it was just a free-for-all.
But as we grew, our taste solidified and it got a little broader. But we still maintain that what we do is about highlighting underground or artists who, in large part, are not being heard. It became a resource for people who were looking for music that was not discoverable in other ways.
One of those alt-rock "sacred cows" that you took a shot at was Liz Phair, you gave one of her records a 0.0 out of 10.
And then there's a band called Jet. Describe, because it's not a written review, the review you posted about Jet.
[laughs] We did two reviews about Jet, and the first is one of my favorites. It's a dialogue between the band's manager and the band themselves, and they're going out on stage and trying all these different things, failing at each one, and the crowd becomes increasingly restless.
The second Jet review that we did was just a YouTube video that we found online of a chimp sitting on the ground and urinating into its own mouth. We felt that was a pretty spot-on reflection of the music.
You had early reviews of Arcade Fire and Bon Iver that really put those bands on the map, and when you look back at the impact that those reviews had, you must be a little in awe of your own power?
[laughs] I think those records really speak for themselves, and we felt that they were records that weren't being highlighted by other people. That was really what we put ourselves out there to do, to say, Here are records that are not getting the attention that they deserve.
I think those are both records with a broad appeal, and when I was first starting Pitchfork, independent music was considered really esoteric and challenging. But by the time I started listening to a lot of independent music, I didn't really feel that way.
I felt that this was music that was a little bit different but had all the hallmarks of great pop music. That was really the goal of Pitchfork: to help foster independent music and find a broader audience for it as a whole, because that was really my passion.
Now that you're bigger, does that mean that your ratings are done as a consensus? Or is it one critic who decides how she/he is going to score an album?
The approach varies a little bit from album to album. For the majority of the reviews, the rating is decided entirely by the critic, or largely by the critic. There is some editorial input, and if something seems a little bit high or the rating doesn't quite match the text, we may consult with the writer and then adjust the score one way or another.
But generally we look at the ratings as a form of consensus for what the staff feels as a whole. The Pitchfork staff and contributors are always talking about music and discussing music in secret areas of our website, so we're in constant dialogue about it. And when we're editorially assigning records, we'll try to assign the record to a critic who is largely in the consensus.
It's a little bit of editorial and a little bit from the writer, but it's a happy medium that's generally reflective of what we all feel.
There's an adage in superhero movies: "With great power comes great responsibility." Now that you have so much power to shape the future of the artists that you're reviewing, how do you consider that when you're coming up with your scores? How are you able to separate your work from the impact you know that it's going to have?
You try not to think too much about the impact, which is sort of beside the point. We do make a point of highlighting records that are really good and really resonate with us, but the score really just represents what we feel.
This isn't what we started Pitchfork to do. We didn't start Pitchfork to make or break careers. It's a side effect of people trusting our taste and valuing what we say, but it's definitely not the objective. If you think about that too much it can start to corrupt what you originally set out to do. We try to ignore that.
Not that the Grammy Awards are the ultimate validation of your seeing the future, but again, you wrote about Arcade Fire very early on, and they went on to win a Grammy. Are there some acts that you can think of that are coming out with work that might get recognized by the Grammys in two, three, four years from now? In other words, who's on your radar that we should start paying attention to?
Like you said, it's always hard to say with the Grammys, particularly because you never know how newer bands are going to evolve. But I'll give you a couple of artists that I think are doing really interesting things right now.
One is a guy named Tobias Jesso Jr., who's a songwriter who lives here [in L.A.], and he has this really simple but extremely heartfelt style. He's a powerful songwriter who's oddly in the vein of Randy Newman and Harry Nilsson. It's very spare, just him and a piano, playing these very complexly chorded songs that are really beautiful, and his voice is really evocative and emotional.
Another band who's been around for a little bit that has the potential to have a pretty big year is a band called Lower Dens. They've had a couple records that were almost there, but not quite developed, but it sounds like they're really coming out strong on this record. They're kind of between Beach House and The War on Drugs, and they have a very full-production sound, great lyrics, and the lead vocalist, Janna Hunter, is great.
You've just arrived in Los Angeles, but how would you rate the L.A. music scene from 0 to 10?
[laughs] I'm not in the business of ranking scenes, but I'll say that something is happening in L.A. right now.
New York is going through something of an identity crisis for maybe the first time in its history. It's become so expensive to live there that it's becoming less attractive for artists to move there. There used to be scenes in the Lower East Side, and then it was Williamsburg, and then it was Bushwick; people were moving to these areas and they were the epicenters of music in New York.
But that's changing, and over the past few years there's been a mass exodus of people leaving New York to come to L.A. Artists can still afford studios here, the climate is a little more palatable, and I think the music scene here is just turning a corner. It has the potential to be the center of music in the United States in a way that New York previously was.
It's all evolving right now, and it's hard to see exactly where it will go, but when you have a massive influx of artists from the previous capital of music, then certainly things are likely to evolve.
Pitchfork Radio will celebrate the end of its L.A. run with #Offline — a two-day music event on February 6 and 7.