Slush City was created for a specific time and place: the office where I was working last summer, where there were free CDs everywhere. But then fall came, and money started getting tight all around. Record labels were sending less stuff, the editors who previously gave the CDs away were keeping them so they could sell them on amazon, and then eventually they got laid off and my stint there ended and that was kind of that.
At the same time, even if the golden goose hadn’t wandered off and died, I think it’s pretty plain that I was starting to feel ambivalent about writing record reviews, or at least negative ones. Listening to Lou Reed go off on Robert Christgau and John Rockwell was probably the beginning of it; that led me to start the Rubbish Reviews feature, possibly because I felt guilty for the various thumbs-downs I’d given here. (Yeah, I didn’t like Rock Plaza Central, but people hated Pere Ubu once too. Not only that, they filed them under U.) In my defense, a lot of that slush really wasn’t very good: It was slush! But in my offense, what did I know? At best I was either wrong or stating the obvious, at worst I was just spreading around bad vibes.
Slush City isn’t quite dead. I may still use it as a platform for talking about the good finds, like Dolorean, the Jim White song “Jailbird,” or the outstanding debut by Johnny Flynn (or bong coasters). Maybe I’ll use it for something else. Mainly I just have a feeling that for now The Poet might be right. I’m aiming for less slush, more pearls.