Howdy, pop late-late-adolescents!
Found out yesterday that Observer Music Monthly #76 is the last of them.
This has evoked mixed feelings. On the one hand, it was a rather silly magazine, stretched between ageing NME types at one end, globe-sniffing multi-cultural fashionistas at the other and tossers who just want to read yer Rock'n'Roll Messiah types wandering about the middle. You know, the Springsteens, the Dylans, the myth of the seismically redemptive hero that probably stepped back into the background of our minds a couple of decades ago.
But the hairier, more sentimental hand, he tells a different story. However thick-headed its editorial direction might've been at times, at least OMM was a collection of pages stapled together with words and pictures about music on them. There seems to be less and less of that about - Plan B, gone; Bearded, gone. The greying of my once-again-bushy beard has meant I pick up a great many copies of MOJO at the newsagent than I would've been comfortable with ten years ago, and Artrocker seems to be hanging on at the moment; but it's not enough.
To the blogs, my friends! Well, not quite. There'll be no bundle of Hype Machines tied together with string behind the chest of drawers in a few years' time. I suppose that's the point. But I think I need the comfort of printed paper. I'm a sentimental auld cunt, and ageing Java just won't cut it with me.
And I bet they keep that bastard "Woman" monthly intact, despite it's irritating irrelevance (see Dr Lw's thoughts on that from October). And don't even get me started on the Food one!
Your pal, Coc x