Art, Music, and Wine – How The Best of Each Are True Rebels.

Early Critics Just as Snarky as Today’s Online Reposts

In 1874 the satirical magazine Le Charivari published a review of an art exhibit written by Louis Leroy. Today the article’s title, “Exhibition of the Impressionists,” doesn’t seem inflammatory given that Impressionism is a well-studied, highly regarded period in art history. However, Leroy wasn’t working with a knowledge of this history. He was about to create it.

He writes, “A catastrophe seemed to be imminent, and it was reserved to M. Monet to contribute the last straw.”

M. Monet being Claude Monet. Referring to Monet’s Impression, Sunrise Leroy sneers, “Impression — I was certain of it. I was just telling myself that, since I was impressed, there had to be some impression in it … and what freedom, what ease of workmanship! A preliminary drawing for a wallpaper pattern is more finished than this seascape.”

Criticism and those who create it can serve as an essential check on creative ambitions attempting to enter a culture. At their best, they act as lighthouses warning the less experienced and less knowledgeable of the treacherous rocks they are nearing.

As we all know, many of the artists debased by Leroy’s article embraced the derisive label “Impressionist.” Today, one can hardly discuss fine art without mention of Impressionism. The harshly dismissed Claude Monet is likely its most recognized practitioner.  The vilified Impression, Sunrise is now housed in the Musée Marmottan Monet. It is unknown if it ever inspired a wallpaper design.

Image Credit: Mad Fizzy Media

Most Industries Have Leaders, Followers, and Critics. Wine is No Exception.

Until recently, wine criticism was dominated by slightly more than a handful of print publications. The pages of those publications were filled with reviews consisting of tasting notes from a specific reviewer, often featuring some numeric index or rating. (The limitations of the 100-point system to be taken up in a future post).  Sometimes the publications would vaguely outline the process of evaluating wines assuring readers and submitting winemakers that the results were to be trusted. We were reminded that they were professionals with objective opinions.

The arrival of the internet brought democratization to wine criticism. Publishing opinions of wines is no longer the exclusive domain of a few gatekeepers. Armed with nothing more than a custom URL and WordPress site, anybody can become a wine critic. A greater diversity of opinions has emerged.

Several assumptions about this diversity have gone unchallenged: decentralizing power away from a few gatekeepers is, unquestionably, an improvement. We all benefit from this diversity. And the relationship between the diversity of opinion and the inherent good is linear: the more diversity, the better.

But what happens when the signal gets lost in the noise? How can we tell if the light ahead is a lighthouse or house party? Is the current pushing reviewers to the top based on their expertise as tasters? Is it based on the clarity and precision of their writing? Or is it about attitude or branding?

Even the Experts Get It Wrong.

In 1972 Rolling Stone Magazine published a review of The Rolling Stone’s new album Exile on Main Street. In it, critic Lenny Kay wrote, “Exile on Main Street appears to take up where Sticky Fingers left off, with the Stones attempting to deal with their problems and once again slightly missing the mark. They’ve progressed to the other side of the extreme, wiping out one set of solutions only to be confronted with another.”

As if this weren’t damning enough, he later goes on to say “…but I still think that the great Stones album of their mature period is yet to come.”

Concluding the review with “… they might even deliver it to us the next time around.”

In 2003 Rolling Stone Magazine named Exile on Main Street #7 of the top 500 albums of all time. The list, updated in 2020 had it at #14. In either list, Exile on Main Street was the highest-rated Rolling Stones album.

So why do we, the public, continue to listen to critics? What purpose do they serve when throughout history they often get it so wrong? Perhaps to some, they assist in illuminating new choices we previously were unaware of, or to others, they soundly protect us against hazardous choices. When selecting car insurance or a vacation house to rent, it doesn’t do any harm to read the reviews first. But it’s often about context. I’m looking for a quiet getaway with my partner, I’m not going to put any stock in the one-star review about how boring and isolated the cabin was as that can be interpreted as remote and romantic to someone else.

This is how we know the rating system and the critics are not infallible. How does one person rate an experience? And when it comes to something so personal such as wine, how can one critic be the barometer for what makes exceptional wine?

Write your own reviews. Make your own decision. Choose your own path.

Creating something and putting it into the world is a heroic act. An album, painting, or a bottle of Pinot Noir is like a small child placed in a basket and pushed into the river. The creator hopes that whoever finds it will love it. They do this despite the possibility it might be hated or ignored. Imagine a world where the only things created are those guaranteed to work. There would be no innovation. No art. No Monet. No discovery. No thrill.  Certainly, no Rolling Stones. Such a world would be an idyllic village imprisoned by walls of fear. Boring, grey, and bland.

More heroic is those making decisions for themselves. The millions of fans that heard Exile on Main Street and decided it was great.  The generations past and future, seduced by the works of the Impressionists. The wine drinkers who learned by themselves not all Rieslings are sweet. Or those who hate Napa Chardonnay but take a chance and buy a glass of Willamette Valley Chardonnay with their lunch. Small, simple, enjoyable ways in which to expand our horizons. Tiny acts of bravery resulting in a life more fully explored.

It is the consumer that makes the critic right or wrong. As a wine consumer, you are free to seek and accept the opinion of any critic you like. Trying something new is heroic. Not enjoying something fashionable or trendy is also heroic.

Also, know you are just as free to reject those opinions. The power of the critic is inversely proportional to the collective trust we have in ourselves. 

Be the hero. Rebel against what is supposed to be and determine this for yourself.