I can think of very few of my acquaintances who could walk up to, say, a Vermeer, a Renoir or a Pollock and confidently criticize it for better or worse. Perhaps a few might form an opinion on whether they like what they see, but it's unlikely they would definitively link that feeling with a belief of the artistic worth of the painting (well...the Pollock might be borderline there, to be fair). Ballet, modern dance, sculpture – probably accepted or dismissed as an entire art form by the layman rather than any one work being evaluated for its merits. Literature? The attention required tends to weed out the more impulsive, less experienced would-be judges. Music? Suddenly we're in hyper-democratic territory...Where music is concerned, it's probably an exaggeration to say everyone's a critic, but certainly a lot are, despite “I like everything” being by far the most common declaration about music I hear. This doesn't just apply to “pop” music, which, by definition, is accessible, anti-elitist, democratically-generated ('though many would argue, market-driven). From Bach to Beatles, there are a lot of lay people out there who feel intuitive enough to judge the worth of a work. The only other art form I can think of that begs such unqualified criticism is drama – whether on stage or screen – and probably not by coincidence.

Today's toddler might not have any exposure to modern sculpture or ballet, but you can bet the child has seen television and heard music – often together. While such a kid probably can't articulate much difference between a van Gogh and a Norman Rockwell, the difference between Chopin and Cheap Trick is immediately apparent to even toddler ears. We amass a lot of experience with music early on, and it makes us comfortable with it...and comfortable rendering judgement.
Is this a bad thing? I find the degree of evil in it directly proportional to the degree of ignorance. If you prefer Bieber to Brahms, I know you're not alone and (I tell myself) it's not a moral failing...but if you tell me Bieber is a master and Brahms is a wanker, and that anyone who thinks differently is deluded – well, you and I will have a very frank exchange of views then and there. That's just taking democracy a little too far, in my book.
Why should I feel I have empiricism on my side in this dispute? Well, I'm a musician, I'm a qualified music teacher with a Music degree and years of experience playing, writing and studying music. I can articulate the differences between these disparate B's as a mechanical engineer could point out the differences between a Porsche and a child's red wagon. There's not even any sport in it.
Things get a lot stickier when it comes to comparing pop versus pop. Is a song that sells a million copies necessarily better than a song that sells a dozen? Is a song that uses twenty different chords and modulations of both harmony and rhythm better or worse than a song that uses two chords and one drum pattern? Does it matter if the singer sings out of tune or can hit a high C? If the song annoys you because it keeps playing in your head? If you liked it so much that you played it until you grew completely sick of it? If it has tons of personality but no originality? Vice versa?
A lot of would-be critics might use a few of these parameters to justify their opinion of a song, but the truth is there are a ton of inter-related factors at play that determine a pop song's perceived value - from cultural context to frequency of airplay (perceived popularity, or value to others), and of course that elusive balance between originality and familiarity. I also have a sneaky suspicion that most folks – professional music critics included – often don't really know why they like or don't like a song – but they're willing to take a guess. Why was Sultans of Swing a hit in the height of Disco? How could a song with essentially a two-pitch melody, downer lyrical theme and no bass become a hit in 1984?* Why is Justin Bieber? Who put the bomp in the bomp bah-bomp bah-bomp?
The kicker is that I, too, suffer that cockiness of the self-assured music critic – 'though I've mellowed a bit over the years. As I've mentioned in earlier blogs, I'm much harder to musically please and impress than I've ever been, but I'm also a little less likely to get a serious hate-on for a piece of music. Still, I've grown dispassionately dismissive. This brings me to an impasse where musical colleagues are concerned.
I can't count the number of times I've listened to a live local artist and thought, “these guys could be so much better if only they'd do A, B and C.” Occasionally, I've considered telling the artist this very thing, but always thought better of it. After all, in that artist's eyes, who the hell am I? If the artist is doing as well or better than I at drawing a crowd, why should they care what I think they could improve upon? If I'm asked for my opinion, I'll do my best to speak helpfully, frankly and encouragingly – but otherwise, I've learned to just comment on what I liked. At the very least, if I say I like your guitar tone, you know I'm not blowing smoke up your knickers. I genuinely like your guitar tone. I might even nick a few ideas from your rig.
Perhaps ironically, feedback could probably be most useful from peers and venue managers. I've certainly played a number of gigs where crowd response was excellent but the club owner never returned my calls afterwards; where friends have been positive about a show but crowd response was flat; or when I've had a packed, enthusiastic room one night followed by an empty floor at our next local show. Gigs often do leave a few unanswered questions regarding what went wrong or right. If a good soundman told me 'man, I like your sound, but you guys have got to smile and jump around more', or a venue manager said 'just focus on the music, don't bother mugging for the crowd', I'd entertain those and many other suggestions if none mean compromising the spirit of the music. I also know most in-demand gigging musicians keep a 'if-you-can't-say-something nice...' policy in the interests of career survival, as artists can be rather thin-skinned. Certainly, criticism itself probably has about the same consistency in quality as the art itself – one must always choose wisely. The difference is that there's just so little feedback to choose from.
Neil Peart's evaluation criteria for art has always stuck with me: “what is the artist trying to say, and how successful is he/she in conveying it?”. I think it's most definitely in the artist's interest to stow the ego and welcome feedback – and evaluate the quality of the criticism with a cool head.
I'm often reminded of the lead singer crisis Yes suffered in the early 80's: Longtime lead singer and co-founder Jon Anderson left the band, and was replaced by Buggles (of “Video Killed the Radio Star” fame) alumnus Trevor Horn. Horn rolled up his sleeves and co-wrote the 'Drama' album with Yes, taking the band in a bold, new direction. He toured successfully with the band in the US, singing a ridiculously demanding repertoire (Anderson is that rarity of rarity among singers – a male alto, a.k.a. born with a freakishly high singing voice. Horn has a good male high-range, but Anderson's tunes are centred higher still - more in a comfortable female vocal range), but suffered vocal fatigue and hostile audiences in Europe. The Yes management angrily gave Horn the boot, suggesting he should go produce records instead of singing on them.
Horn's response? Not only did he become a producer – he became arguably the world's most successful producer, at the helm for, ironically and among many others, the next Yes album, which remains their biggest commercial success and source of their only number 1 hit (with Anderson back on vocals). Horn suffered a lot of stinging criticism around the time of his stint as lead singer for Yes, but he put some of that criticism to extremely good use – and the rest is history.
Tempted to offer a little well-meaning feedback to a local artist? Consider what the artist is trying to say (and if you can't tell, asking is a great ice-breaker) and their success in saying it. Consider whether the artist is mature enough to take the criticism as intended; and if so, speak your mind. I dare you. Even if the artist in question is me.
The worst that can happen is I'll become a producer.

*Have you figured out the artist and song on your way to the footnote?
“When Doves Cry” by Prince.