The following review was originally slated to appear in a fine print magazine. However, due to circumstances out of the writer’s control, the magazine has decided that the review has no place in the issue – perhaps the result of all or any of the following reasons:
A) The persons behind Gravity Gets Things Done advertise in said magazine.
B) The album “isn’t the sort of music covered” in the magazine.
C) The review itself lacks any meaning, merit and/or is far too hateful without any real balance to it. (Which never really bothered us anyway)
So in the world of music publishing, like any business in the world, good practices are proven groundwork for a long and successful publishing run. And it doesn’t have to meander into the kiss-assery of SPIN or Rolling Stone; it merely has to be careful in the selection of material that it prints – with that, this writer fully respects the decision of the magazine to exclude this piece. So perhaps in the interest of potential advertisers, we will sugar-coat our assessment of The Pale as generically, and as mundane as possible:
“The Pale write pop songs with sufficient talent and style to illicit comparisons to Death Cab for Cutie and at times, warrant radio airplay with their accessible, light and fairly innocuous music.”
That however, would be bending the truth – because The Pale do not really have “sufficient talent,” and in no way shape or form is their “innocuous” brand of music even slightly entertaining or interesting. To be quite frank, Gravity Gets Things Done is perhaps “the worst pop/rock album in recent memory” – flaccid, boring, insipid, and painfully derivative … the picture is clear. And as not to let written work go to waste, here is the original review of The Pale’s recent atrocity:
“Sharing the stage with both Coldplay and The Flaming Lips ought to inspire a significant level of musical stimulation that if not results in mildly interesting work, should at the very least provide a certain benchmark to strive for. Yet The Pale trundle through their autumnal sound with great tedium. The most interesting thing about The Pale could be that Wayne Coyne may have once waved in their general direction. Their résumé reads no longer than that one appearance and a few extremely tepid full lengths, and they’ve been trying to fill it out since 1994. The amount of schmaltz saturating Gravity Gets Things Done is unbearable, enough to fill a landslide of cheap valentine cards while the lifeless whirr of the album’s bloated finale would vindicate criminal behavior. Vocalist Gabe Archer does his best Ben Gibbard imitation throughout, but in the end The Pale come off as nothing more than a destitute man’s Death Cab for Cutie. And even that is stretching it.”