The whole monty
To all my friends at Pitchfork, who don’t exist and who I wish to never meet, I must ask for your wisdom, as I know little. How do you justify reviewing a four – minute track? I’ll take a guess and say it’s by virtue of writing two paragraphs for each. Two paragraphs which you got paid for. Certainly they are paragraphs with a lot of words, and with no room for the sentimentalities of life. But then, who would want to hear about my imaginary girlfriend and our imaginary breakup? Who wants to hear about the autistic conversations I’ve turned over in my head with kind girls who don’t exist? Why care about me, who exists to have games pawned onto them, like they were nothing, and with no personality nor experience in this love thing at all? And furthermore, who am I to argue with the most popular music blog on the Web?
So I’m going to take a cut from their meat. Hitogotchi is a slightly – sickening and very cloying look at a reverse Tamagotchi scenario, where you are the disgusting monster who deal with the optimistic caretaker, and mustn’t eat her. Being a sap for any romance, the lovely ending made me warm, though I didn’t read too much into it. The artist, ignorant of the Berne Convention, specifically states the Licence as “all rights reserved,” imaginary rights no doubt. Their selfishness does not affect this decently – constructed minuscule experience, though I speculate their planned sequel will be more of the same just with better pacing and a strictly-worded letter from their lawyers. I give it a three out of five, for the length it took me to get through.
Note: I’m not sticking with a two – paragraph format. I have more to say and you’re going to hear it.