About Probability Storm
This is my personal blog, where I try to offer a new perspective in reviews of niche music, essays related to the perception of said music or culture around it, essays related to my other interests, and stream of consciousness posts that I'd feel dishonest to call essays. The music posts I also share on a few relevant sites such as the Metal Archives and Rate Your Music, linking them back to the blog.
As someone who doesn't relate to a lot of common human experiences and desires, and doesn't feel like a part of any group (or identify with anyone else who is alienated) I believe I can offer unique "outsider" views. The blog itself isn't important, it's just a place to gather all my writing. My real goal is to have thoughtful criticism available right next to an album's page - whoever cares and already researches music will find it on their own; certainly no one guided me to where I am now. The person behind this blog doesn't matter, and I don't need to be identified as the same person who wrote different critiques. Self-promotion be damned.
The music part of the blog
I focus on the niche side of extreme metal, such as tech death, dissonant death metal, industrial black metal etc. I might cover a few classic old albums, which I believe capture the essence of their genre, or newer almost mainstream bands whose popularity says something about the state of the subculture. I'll cover non-metal music from time to time, but those are outliers.
And yet, I refuse to call myself a metalhead. As I said above, I don't identify with any other group or subculture, or at least I don't identify with their values even if I'm in the same demographic. Dressing in a "uniform", the "metal brotherhood", supporting the local scene out of obligation, using one's choice of passive consumption, aka music taste, to signify status... I'll have none of that.
Half the reason I started this blog was because I wanted to cover interesting music. The other half was my frustration with the banality of music discourse, dominated by vibes and surface level observations, which could apply to a lot of other music. For example, describing a death metal album as "brutal" or "heavy", but also "samey" - these can be assumed by default for the genre. Reliance on cliches makes me lose faith in the credibility of the writer, because if they use stock phrases that could apply to a whole lot of different music, how much insight do they have for what's distinct about that specific piece of music? I've written about music as a hobby over the years, and I was guilty of resorting to cliches and cookie cutter descriptions to hide my lack of experience. My old writings were "not even wrong", but never got to the essence of the music. I kept deleting my old writings from music sites and restarting with new visions. Nowadays I go out of my way to avoid common phrases and idioms, even when they fit. I spend weeks writing and editing, and as I think very hard about the music, eventually I gain new insights. At the very least it helps me understand it better.
I was hesitant about calling my music writings "critiques" as it seemed to give me an unwarranted sense of importance. Turns out, I don't approach music as a reviewer. I don't do buyer's guides, I don't rank things, I refuse to give a rating unless the site I post to requires it, in which case I put a number that "feels right". Sometimes I don't even say if I like the music or not. I don't even listen to music with the intention to enjoy it, but to "educate" myself about different genres, paired with reading articles, reviews and interviews; any pleasure I feel is incidental. A lot of the time I'm ambivalent to the music itself, but hearing the opinions of people more passionate than me is actually more valuable for enriching my perspective than the music itself. I realized I had pretty specific preferences for music, and that I'd be chronically frustrated if I wanted to enjoy anything, because the whole wide world ultimately doesn't cater to me. The alternative is to isolate myself in a niche, which is frankly just sad. I don't expect anything to "grab" me, it's unrealistic. Instead, I make an active effort to engage the music on its own terms and meet it halfway through rather than waiting for it to impress me, sometimes forcing myself to listen to an album several times even if I find it boring. In the case it's boring, more passionate listeners' perspective is what makes the endeavor worthwhile.
When I critique/review something, I don't try to hide my beliefs about music, art as a whole or culture around it, in fact I actively try to weave them into the writing. Otherwise I'd find it dry and boring, and I am certain all of my favourite reviews didn't try to hide the author's beliefs, even if I strongly disagreed with them. I don't try to persuade anyone into listening to the music I cover. In fact, if I truthfully present the music for what it is, it would turn most listeners away, except for those who were already open to it. If I mislead someone into listening to something they hate, then I failed.
Music criticism can have up to four angles:
1. Musical analysis, which is required by definition.
2. Context about the musicians, their lives and beliefs.
3. Subjective experience, preference or beliefs - stating personal beliefs about what music or art should be falls here.
4. Addressing other people's perception of the music, could be fans or detractors, but it's an outside conversation the writer can join. Historical significance falls here as it's about the public's perception.
Writing about popular to semi-popular music is easier, because there is an ongoing conversation around it that I can join - there is a public perception around the artist that I can respond to. On the other hand, I might not have anything to say that someone else hasn't said already, since the music is known and has been talked about. I could express existing opinions more eloquently, in more depth or with a different writing style, but it'd be disrespectful to myself. I mostly stick to "semi-popular" music, because it's less likely the discussion around it has been dried up.
If I write about obscure music, and I mean genuine nobodies virtually unheard of outside their hometown, there is no conversation around them to address.Yes, I can cover new ground by reviewing unknown artists, but I lack the influence to push them into relevance. And even if I somehow did make them relevant, the writing will still be valued less than writing about more popular artists, simply because the latter has more demand for discussion.
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