so its slightly pretentious, but ive read far far worse!

Toe-curling....reads like a 14 year old girl's English essay who has fallen head-over-heels in love with Joanna Newsom's use of language. Clearly she thinks that this may cross-pollenate with music reviewing.
Toe-curling throughout and i've not cringed like that (see the third last paragraph in particular) since a doctor friend of mine told me an anecdote about a guy that had a particularly nasty thing 'wrong' with his penis.

but she does it in such a way that as champion versions says, she makes you complicit with her weird teenage girl view of the world.

she DOES know a lot about music, but the music she likes isn't exciting or revelatory, and she's never gonna blow your mind by introducing you to something good cos well, not everyone will want to feel like they're in a glade of woodland animals when they're listening to an album

.

she just gets better!

does anyone know why the guardian employs her? what is wrong with the culture editors that they let her slip through the net?

Nail on head....

"In the stagnant days between Christmas and New Year, when the streets were empty and the sky was hungover, I sat on the bus listening to George Pringle's Carte Postale on repeat. Through the bus window the city was the colour of stale vase water, and as the corner shops of Hackney and Dalston and Islington floated by I listened over and over to Pringle talking about her "detailed scientific investigation into light reflected on glass". Carte Postale is a young woman's rumination upon cigarette ends, Streetfighter 2 and shoes that stick to nightclub floors, and boasts the superlative lyric: "You've never been up at 4am with the fear/ You've never lain on your bedroom floor half-blind you'd never love the girl who wakes up perspiring beer." It strikes me as a perfect bus journey song."