(Yes, yes, I know, Pitchfork bashing is played out, but this is really funny.)
"Rather than just state the obvious, such as that a certain album sounds like X and Y, and that it is M minutes long and has T tracks, Pitchfork's reviews used a number of tactics to conceal their shameless musical-historical walleye-vision and to keep the readers wondering if they'd even heard the album they're reviewing (which they haven't). A few of these tactics include:
discussing the 'funny,' but unintentionally insightful, thing their roommate said when they overheard the reviewer playing the album
translating a Spin review into Cyrillic, then Portugeuse, then back to English again
picking an arbitrary six seconds of the recording, then berating that six seconds for 400 words, then:
saying "Other than that, X is looking to be one of the best albums of the year."
OR stating nothing more, leaving fans scratching their heads, thinking WTF?
opening the review with a long-winded story of the author having a fight with his internet girlfriend
belittling the album based on some imagined public pretension (e.g. "Looks like there's another New England post-dancehall record in our midst...")
making quick, pointless detours to insult the abilities or person of Conor Oberst, despite his legions of fans, in reviews that have little or nothing to do with him
discussing horse-porn until the reader grows too nervous to consider the legitimacy of the reviewer
explaining how great and essential the Gang of Four were, despite it being a review of a female twee-pop band.
And remember, just because you strove to popularize the band, so you could look cool at the time, doesn't preclude you from leading a cruel backlash against them at the first sign of commercial popularity."