Tuesday, January 01, 2008

Lover, scoundrel, confidant, asshole.

I have a love/hate relationship with Rolling Stone.

I've subscribed to it for years, and read it faithfully every week. Back when I was a grad student and co-hosted an indie-rock radio show, the stuff I'd hear would show up as "Breaking Artists" in the magazine several months later, but these days I read about bands before I hear them. (At least I don't rely on commercial radio stations to inform me about solid new artists. Hey, 102.1, we get it — Fall Out Boy is sad already!)

Today, in the span of about a dozen pages, things went from excellent (an article talking about how CDs are mastered today with tons of compression and at an extremely high volume) to interesting (Mars Volta, Black Crowes and Breeders have albums due out in the next few months; Iran has apparently banned hip-hop) to wasted space (Ghostface Killah talks about reading the Koran and then, two sentences later, brags, "You know how much pussy I've had"; surprise-surprise, there's a young band out of England who plays loud, stupid punk music; rapper Radric "Gucci Mane" Davis was released from prison after beating a man with a pool cue).

It's a mixed bag, for sure.

But overall, I dig it.

No comments: