When an album enters into the realm of reverence, it tends to then be attached with an increasingly difficult-to-break shield. The idea that an album established as great could have any sort of fault becomes something to be scoffed at or ignored. We lose the ability to critique when some sort of consensus has been achieved, all as the critical hivemind encourages us to move forward and accept the established masterpieces as masterpieces. And without a potential for hindsight, the worst portions of albums belonging to this universal canon are left without scrutiny. It is more often than not that we ignore embarrassing moments in all media to build up the ultimate value of the whole. Nobody mentions the scene near the end of Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho where, much to the chagrin of the viewer, a random detective spends a solid five minutes giving a thorough explanation of the entire movie. Even outside of popular media it is a natural process to wipe out all of the boring, uncomfortable bits among our mental recollections of our life's highest points. We have been conditioned to demand greatness without acknowledging the less than special moments that humanize what we consider untouchable. And your favorite albums will almost always have these ugly moments. Perfection is a very difficult thing to achieve as it can only exist in a vacuum. Subjective opinions can go in a variety of directions, but the idea of an objective opinion can harm an album by designating its greatness as something never to be questioned. If you take the time to look back over your own favorite albums you are bound to find a stinker...
