Evidently, even being obliquely mentioned on "The Howard Stern Show" has a certain cache, or so I learned on April 14, when I suddenly starting receiving notes from friends and acquaintances that the caustic radio host had mentioned my column.

More precisely, Howard Stern referred to me as "this guy from Worcester" in conversation with Bam Margera, who last year I gave perhaps the worst review I've ever given anyone.

Margera's F-Face Unstoppable, as Stern gleefully read from my April 2013 column, "is hands down the worst attempt at music I have ever encountered. It is offensive on so many levels that it can only be construed as performance art."

And upon review, I stand by that assessment. I was, however, pleased to hear Margera laugh off the review with Stern, joking that "I love it. That's what we're shooting for!"

Which is precisely the right attitude with which to approach a bad review, particularly one that practically apologizes for just how bad the review has to be.

"I try," I wrote last year. "I really, really do. If people want to listen to awful music, I do my very best to direct them to it. Usually, I even put my personal tastes aside and try to engage with said awfulness in an endeavor to understand why people would love it. This has made me a convert to many, many bands and genres, often much to my own surprise."

That I could find nothing redeeming in Margera's music is telling. But then, so is the humor with which he handled the review, so one supposes it's not all bad. It certainly wasn't personal.

I think there's a brand of music critic — and I make no promises that I wasn't this guy when I was younger — who is delighted for an opportunity to try out his sneer, for an excuse to trumpet his wit and impeccable taste. At the age of 42, however, I don't feel any need to be that guy. I have nothing to prove to anyone, and frankly, have no urge to unnecessarily pummel an artist.

I said recently on Facebook that "I usually go in rooting for the music," which was a sentiment that was met with a great deal of praise, particularly from musicians. That being said, I usually go in rooting for the Red Sox, too, and every so often they turn up a clunker. If the game was awful and I said otherwise, no one would value anything I had to say.

And thus, one of my unbreakable rules is that I will never, ever lie about music. And I find that easier to do than I imagined. My goal, after all, is to engage with the songs, not display anything about my own taste or ego. It's a small (or at least young) person who needs to publicly insult others for the sake of his or her own sense of self.

While I'm usually content to try and look past my personal taste to see why other people love music I don't, occasionally harsh things have to be said. If it's a little local indie band, there's probably not a whole lot of call to bash them. Best to just leave 'em alone, and hope they get better.

But if they're Bam Margera, and are big enough to take the hit, sometimes it's best to just say what you feel. Clearly, Margera is tough enough to handle it. And that, at the very least, I respect. (Victor D. Infante)