This article explores why music journalism no longer exists as it once did, and how the power of the press has shifted and diminished in much the same way as major labels have, and how that might be good for culture in general.
Guest post by David Gerard of Rocknerd
You’ll be unsurprised that the answer was, per the Austin Chronicle, “not even journalists were interested”. As a commenter put it, “I mean, if you have to ask …”
The big problems music journalism has are: (a) the press are not the gatekeepers any more, so (b) the record companies aren’t spraying money over them any more. Music journalism died when the major label money was no longer sustaining it. And (c) opinion is cheap now.
(Remember Rock Australia Magazine, 1975–1989? RAM went broke, despite a loyal and sustained readership and 28,000 sales a fortnight — a lot in Australia — because they pissed off the major record companies, who then refused to buy ads. That was all it took.)
Back in the day, music press got the word out about music before the music itself could get there. You could read about a record, but hearing it required hard work, happenstance or money you didn’t have. It could take years between seeing the name of some potentially-interesting band or song and actually hearing them. These days, of course, your chosen obscurity is likely just a YouTube search away.
With the rise of blogs, opinion is as readily available as the music itself. Approximately nobody is going to pay money for this stuff. Only the biggest blogs and sites can sell the ads they need to, and even they’re having serious problems. The New Musical Express is now an entertainment guide given away outside tube stations. The problem for professional music critics and press is competition from literally the whole world, the same problem artists have.
This is a special case of the problem with journalism in general: the money dried up with the exclusivity. About the only press that’s done at all well are the technology sites, who ripped down those tedious walls between editorial and advertising and gave up any reluctance to live off payola around the turn of the millennium, turning into utter and unapologetic shills. (Though it’s not clear those walls were ever up in music journalism.)
Even in the ’80s and ’90s, the pay was bloody dismal — I quit X-Press twice because of their widely-attested habit of asking for stuff then not running it, thus not paying you — and the main attraction was that it beat working for a living; but even that beer money level is now largely gone. Though I enjoyed it — even the tedious bits were pretty fun — I’m a computer system administrator primarily because there’s no money in writing about music. This Baffler story is me after I moved from near-unemployable nonprofit lifer to overpaid geek. I eat way better now.
(I have told Phil Sandifer that if this freelance pop culture academic lark doesn’t work out, he could probably do quite well as a sysadmin. This was intended as a scary story.)
Thirty years later, I’m still in recovery from my few years’ writing about music for money. To the point where, when Ben Butler said in 2001 “hey let’s do this thing, I’m calling it Rocknerd,” I was in there like a shot. Because this is fun! But apart from the occasional hit, I know better than to think anyone cares. The reviews are useful and important for small bands …
Even with the loss of opportunity for potential greatness — there will be no more Bangs, Meltzers, Coleys or Morleys — I’m not displeased at music journalism being stabbed through its putrid little heart; way too much about it was gatekeeping rather than enthusiasm. (Hence fanzines. We knew what we were fighting for in the ’80s.) Everything is much better now for culture.