Can you explain this to me? (Blues for a Critic)

The first paragraph of Pitchfork's review of Isolée's We Are Monster -- which I honestly can't tell if I should hear -- written by Nick Sylvester in June of 2005:

The classics kid in me craves noble grandeur-- craft-happy shit with more than meets the rods and cones, less is always more (except with clothes), suggestive-seductive vs. the once-off gunfuck. Full-on body music's great, sure, but so is porno, and with that shit I'd much rather wax new flesh than drag my stylus off the same old 10-second loop. Same time, Intelligent Body Music's as much a nightmare as Intelligent Anal, both a prefab excuse for pleasure-lack. So we're stuck in this immediacy=better rut, when really the best stuff cross-genre-- cross-platform, cross-media-- has instant funk, but with enough tricks for prolonged appeal.

I mean, yeah, sure, of course, but still, you know, I guess, could be, then again, why not?