A Note About Scope (and Consistency)

My friend Ben has suggested to me that I should better annunciate what exactly I mean by "scope" in the general ratings section of the review template. Here goes:

I have no easy definitition. Part of it is about demographics, specifically, how many different types of people a particular record will appeal to. You could frame things in terms of a record's gender or ethnicity, but I find it more interesting to talk about less obvious, equally powerful classifications, like optimistic vs. pessimistic, whimsical vs. staid, etc. etc. The general vibe of the album I mean to be described by the mood tones and other stuff sections, but what is missing from those depictions is how capable a record is of transcending its origins.

An example for the sake of elucidation: The 3 proper albums cut by the Jimi Hendrix Experience are among the most beloved in the rock canon, and have now influenced several generations of aspiring musicians to think in bigger and broader circles about their creations. If those albums came out today, attributed to an artist nobody had ever heard of, and I were to simply list the pieces that went into making the records, it would be easy for them to be categorized as records for guitar purists, or hippies, or pick your favorite over-generalization. It seemed important to me that I include some kind of gauge that would indicate what kind of return on investment of time and energy an average listener would receive for tracking down an album that on first blush didn't sound like it was up their alley.

Also tied into my own concept of scope is the question of how large the goals that the musician set out to accomplish with a particular record were. Two of my favorite records are Rain Dogs by Tom Waits and The Creek Drank the Cradle by Iron & Wine. Rain Dogs would rate very high for scope, as it tackles many different genres of music, uses many different instruments to do so, and adopts many different perspectives in the telling of its narratives. Conversely, The Creek Drank the Cradle would rate very low for scope, as every song was recorded on a four-track with just voice and guitar (or voice and banjo), and if there is any character play at all, its narrators are all similar enough to come across as cyphers for the author.

This brings me to an important point about scope, which also holds true to a lesser extent for the consistency rating that comes after it: a low score isn't necessarily a negative thing. I don't love the early Iron and Wine records less for being simpler (in fact at times, I think I prefer them for that very reason), but I do find them easier to categorize appropriately, in a way that would be difficult to misinterpret. It is likely that there will be a relatively strong inverse relationship between a record's ratings for scope and consistency, as in my opinion it's difficult to serve one without undercutting the other (a feat that, for the most part, only truly great records accomplish). It also bears noting that with regards to consistency, a high rating isn't always a good thing. Think about it this way: the most consistent album imaginable (i.e. one where the tone and quality of one song closely mirrored those of the rest) would be one where all of its tracks were the same recording of the same song, played one after the other. Doesn't sound very appealing, does it? Moreover, it's not hard to think of a less extreme circumstance where a similar dynamic would be established. Take that Iron & Wine record for instance. As most of the songs are recorded in the same way, featuring the same musician and similar chord progressions and quality of lyrics, it's difficult to think of many people who would absolutely love one song but feel indifferently towards or hate the rest. It seems reasonable to suggest that a high consistency rating leads to a love-it-or-hate-it dynamic for most listeners.

Hope that clears things up, Ben. I'll try to have another review posted before the end of the evening.