Tuesday, September 16, 2003
In related news, Careless Talk Costs Lives is folding with issue 1 (it started with 12 and workd it's way backwards from there). While it's not good that another music magazine is failing I can't say I'm surprised because a; they didn't print anything I sent them (they picked Olav's review of Elbow's latest album over mine - Olav I luv yer but yer a git), b; the paper was far too nice and expensive, c; it's far too precious, and d; once again the furthest it appeared to get away from London was Brighton, which, as everybody not from London or Brighton knows, is just Camden with a coastline. Allegedly.
Where is the music magazine that I can read? Maybe, given NME's imminent (already happened if you live in London, as ever) relaunch as a smaller, glossier magazine (complete with contents page!), I ought to write to Conor McNicholas and try and convince him to hire me. I read NME every week from when I was 15 till I was 22, when the all-pervasive stench of narrow-minded, juvenile badness finally convinced me I was wasting my time. Wednesday's at university would be spent alone in the student union bar with a couple of pints of Guinness, a sandwich, and copies of NME and The Guardian (so sue me - I'm an ex-working class 20-something with pretentions of intelligence and liberalism, what am I meant to read?).
New Musical Express. New. Music. Not just old music played by young people with bad jackets. Please. There's nothing else.
9/16/2003 02:02:00 pm
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