Yesterday, I received my copy of the Pitchfork 500, which touts itself as a listening guide to the most important songs “from punk to the present”. Now, when dealing with P4k or any criticism that sets out what is definitive, there is a strong urge indulge in nit-picking, and indeed, I’ve fallen into that as I’ve complained on here about the choice of Joy Division’s “Atmosphere”.

But once I got past this urge to be hyper-critical, and started taking the book with a grain of salt, I’ve found it to be an enjoyable read (granted, I’ve only read through the postpunk era chapters). Particularly, I like the overall narrative they construct to contextualize their choices for the punk era—i.e. punk was a Year Zero which inspired lots of people to make and distribute their own music, and post-punk and hip-hop carried the DIY mentality into new places with the former trying out new varieties of the rock formula and the latter striving to create music with untraditional instruments and means (this thread is carried over to industrial and italo disco). An interesting historical argument one writer advances is that the spirit of the punk and postpunk era (and in all movements within those eras) can be traced back to any of five spiritual predecessors: David Bowie, Lou Reed, Iggy Pop, Kraftwerk and Brian Eno.

I’m not versed enough to confidently evaluate such an argument (though it definitely applies to a lot of the music featured here), and indulging in such an evaluation would misrepresent my main reaction to the book, which is that of geekish glee. You see, as I continue that unending search for great music for this site and for my own enjoyment, I find myself looking in some embarrassing, unhip places—i.e. corny 80’s records, back catalogs of one-hit wonders, this very book, etc.—so finding a critical justification of the importance of, say, The Associates’ “Party Fears Two” sends me off into necrophile geek heaven.

Aside from validating my ego, this book contains some interesting writing. To look at a favorite band of many readers here—the Talking Heads—we find choices that are are fair, fitting but also a little unexpected. The most obvious candidate for inclusion, “Psycho Killer”, is described in terms of Byrne’s performance rather than with the riffs about “nervous funk” we normally see applied. In lieu of “Life During Wartime”, we get “Memories Can Wait”, a choice I never would have thought of, and the blurb does a decent job situating the song within a particular sociopolitical climate. Rather than selecting “Once In Lifetime”, the editors offer “Born Under Punches” (a choice I readily approve of), and tellingly, they place the track amid a suite of early hip-hop and electro. Representing the post-Eno Heads is the live version of “This Must Be The Place”, and the write-up for it speaks to both the band’s power and the visuality of a post-MTV cultural milieu.

There are two points to be drawn from the preceding paragraph. First, as much as we have expectations for certain songs to be included, the editors play with these expectations, perhaps to make a greater point. The choice of “Born Under Punches” over “Once In A Lifetime” reminds us that the Talking Heads’ legacy is just as much about their experiments as it is their future success. These surprising choices don’t happen across the board (see the three obvious Smiths picks), but it seems the replacements are made in service of a more general sense of history. And this might bother some more song-oriented readers. The second thing to note is that Talking Heads have four songs, which might be the most of any band (I’m too lazy to do the the math, but I know Radiohead only have three).

Beyond interesting song decisions, the book also offers neat little tidbits of music criticism. The review of Iggy Pop’s “The Passenger” asks a fascinating question: If Iggy is the passenger, who is the driver? (Bowie, for the record.) One blurb draws a clever comparison between the Sex Pistols’ “no(oooooo) future” coda in “God Save The Queen” and Ian Curtis’ chanting of “feeling” at the end of “Disorder”. Chris Dahlen’s reading of the English Beat’s “Save It For Later” has forever corrupted the song for me (“Try hearing the chorus the same way after you read ‘save it fellator’ in the liner notes”).

All of these thoughts on the book, however, focus on the music featured on this tumblr, and with the last couple of chapters, it’s hard not to feel some suspicion as the writers profile songs by artists that the website launched into the public consciousness. Overall, then, my impression of the book is consistent with my general opinion of the site: The histortical writing (reissue reviews, retrospective lists) is usually much more interesting than the writing on contemporary music.