And in a way, especially with rookie artists, the reviewer makes the album's job easier. It's the music and the music alone, momentarily free from what came before it, and what might come after it. You don't expect them, they come sparingly, and, in the end, you work your ass off all year to get them. For every Icky Mettle, for every Let It Be, there are hundreds of records by long-established artists that demand more than just an emotional response. I mentioned earlier.
Baggage can sometimes work in an artist's favor.
Paul McCartney, for example, consistently and confusingly receives doting write-ups for mediocre work, in part because fans and critics want so badly to have Paul the Beatle back again. Any album that so much at hints at his former gifts is prematurely hailed as a comeback, and ultimately pales in hindsight. At then end of day, though, pop music is a young person's medium, and it celebrates the genius in full flower, less so the sturdy veteran. You may have your own favorite victims of the Codger Curse, the albums that follow are mine. It's all relative, after all.