Look at it. Go on, look at the music press today. Well? What do you think of that. No really, there are some great writers out there doing some really good stuff. Honest! I mean, look at NME! It’s got exciting new underground band, the Libertines on this weeks cover. Fucking wow! A band who did one good album, one average album and several mediocre tabloid front pages about five years ago. Is that the best they can do?
No, course it’s fucking not. If you go online to NME.com and can force yourself to ignore the articles about the Libertines, they also have a piece on those other ground-breaking trendsetters, Oasis.
Yes, the band who were so out of ideas by their third album that they resorted to re-recording demos they rejected for their first album. We’re blessed for cutting edge music journalism in this country. NME, thank you for bringing these bands to my attention.
Q magazine, on the other hand, takes a more encompassing approach to music. It mixes interviews from ex-Oasis guitarist Noel Gallagher with Lily Allen mini-sites. Ooh. Exciting.
Mojo, the “world’s best music magazine is also online” is also online. And covering such up to the minute happening now artists as oh, I don’t know, Paul Weller, Julian Cope and yes, you guessed it, the Libertines.
Well, aren’t you just thrilled that exciting music is so widely represented by the beat press.
To be honest, it’s been clear for some time that the go to place for new music, sexy, unsexy or downright throw up in your pamphlet revolting, has been the internet. You’d think however that there would be a serious place in the printed press for emerging music, a national magazine that picks up on the regional heroes and expands their reach beyond the distance their mates can travel to a gig.
Every city has people who know the local scene, who can highlight the good bands. Shit, there may even be the odd decent writer here and there who could contribute the odd piece if only some cockshelf from the publishing houses would ask them. Printed press, take a break from this constant repetitive celebration of bands whose time has gone and stop cynically exploiting the back catalogues of history. You’re not Simon Cowell. The past is already on your ipod. Exploit the passion of the people who make grass roots music happen every night of the week. Make them national treasure rather than local heroes. Embrace now. Embrace the future