Marc Brennan Thesis

Writing to Reach You:

The Consumer Music Press and Music Journalism in the UK and Australia

Marc Brennan, BA (Hons) Creative Industries Research and Applications Centre (CIRAC)

Thesis Submitted for the Completion of Doctor of Philosophy (Creative Industries), 2005 Writing to Reach You

Keywords

Journalism, Performance, Readerships, Music, Consumers, Frameworks, Publishing, Dialogue, Genre, Branding Consumption, Production, Internet, Customisation, Personalisation, Fragmentation Writing to Reach You: The Consumer Music Press and Music Journalism in the UK and Australia

The music press and music journalism are rarely subjected to substantial academic investigation. Analysis of journalism often focuses on the production of news across various platforms to understand the nature of politics and public debate in the contemporary era. But it is not possible, nor is it necessary, to analyse all emerging forms of journalism in the same way for they usually serve quite different purposes. Music journalism, for example, offers consumer guidance based on the creation and maintenance of a relationship between reader and writer. By focusing on the changing aspects of this relationship, an analysis of music journalism gives us an understanding of the changing nature of media production, media texts and media readerships.

Music journalism is dialogue. It is a dialogue produced within particular critical frameworks that speak to different readers of the music press in different ways. These frameworks are continually evolving and reflect the broader social trajectory in which music journalism operates. Importantly, the evolving nature of music journalism reveals much about the changing consumption of popular music. Different types of consumers respond to different types of guidance that employ a variety of critical approaches. This thesis, therefore, argues that the production of music journalism is one that is influenced by the practices of consumption. Writing to Reach You

Contents

List of Figures and Tables Statement of Original Authorship Acknowledgements

Introduction: 1

The Performances of Music Journalism: Research, Method, Overview Research Focus Research Context Cultural Studies Popular Music’s “Knowing Community” Music Journalism as a “Textual System” Discourse Methodology Case Study Textual Analysis Interviews Chapter Outline

Chapter One: 29

Literature Review: Music Journalism and Academic Insights A Discourse of Music Journalism? Authenticity Postmodernism and Consumer Culture The Influence of Music and other Media The Commonality in Approaches to Music Journalism

SECTION ONE: Historical and Industrial Overview

Chapter Two: 45

Similarities and Differences in the Histories of Music Journalism Before the Influence of the US Underground Press Authenticity and Music Journalism: A Global Shift? New Genres, New Markets The Genre Map of the UK and Australian Music Press (2001)

Chapter Three: 79

Markets, not Medium: The Structure of Music Press Publishing Production/Consumption and the ‘New Economy’ EMAP: From Medium to Markets EMAP, IPC Media: Markets and Networks and the Remnants of Australian Publishing Readerships and New Platforms

SECTION TWO: Contemporary Performances of Music Journalism

Chapter Four: 110

Frameworks, Readerships and Brands: The Case of the UK Rock Press A Note on Methodology The End of Year Lists – Genre The End of Year Lists – Discourse Britpop, Broadsheets, Branding and Magazine Closures The Effect of Britpop The Brands of the UK Rock Press NME Q Mojo Uncut

Chapter Five: 146

Place, Timing and Relevance: The Case of the Australian Street Press The Difference with Australia Happy Hours – Pub Rock in Australia The Characteristics of the Street Press The Brisbane Street Press Features – Functionality Advertising – Relevance The Street Press as Community Media? BrisVegas! The Street Press and the Creative Economy

SECTION THREE: Challenges to Established Music Journalism

Chapter Six: 183

Customised and Personalised Communities: The Internet and Online Music Sites Understanding the Internet through Genre Content and Design – “purpose and form” Sites of Consumption Online Fan Sites: Redaction and Personalisation ‘Blur’ Online

Chapter Seven: 212

Convince, Converse, Consume: The Contemporary Practice of Music Journalism Journalism as Dialogue Britpop – Who Needs Convincing? New Platforms for Music Journalism Conversing with Q Know Your NME Journalism, iPods and the ‘50 Quid Bloke’

Conclusion: 244

Don’t Look Back: Understanding the Future of Music Journalism

List of Interviewees 259

Bibliography 260

Magazine References 271

Figure and Tables

Figures

1. Music Maker Cover, June 1957 2. Go-Set, Cover, February 7, 1968 3. Revolution, Cover, January, 1971 4. Planet, Cover, Vol.2, No.24, 1972 5. Examples of the ‘Blur vs. Oasis’ Coverage 6. Profile of the NME 7. Profile of Q 8. Profile of Mojo 9. Profile of Uncut 10. Independent Record Label Advertising in the Street Press 11. Retail/Record Company Advertising in the Street Press 12. Venue Advertising in the Street Press 13. ‘Theme Nights’ Advertising in the Street Press 14. NME.com: Home Page and Features Page 15. Mojo4Music.com: Home Page and ‘Enlightenment’ 16. Uncut.net: Home Page and ‘Your Say’ 17. NME.com: The NME Shop 18. Q4Music.com: The Q Shop and the Q Gig Travel Shop 19. www.blur.co.uk: Home Page and ‘New Album’ Bulletin Board 20. www.blurtalk.com: Home Page and Discography 21. www.damon-albarn.com: Home Page and News Page 22. The NME in Reactionary Mode 23. Q: The Knowledge 24. Q: How Was it for You? 25. NME’s Report on the Coverage of The White Stripes

Tables

1. Interviews Conducted with UK Music Journalists 2. Interviews Conducted with Australian Music Journalists 3. UK Music Press Map as at January 2001 4. Australian Music Press Map as at January 2001 5. 1990 End of Year Lists by Genre 6. 1995 End of Year Lists by Genre 7. 2000 End of Year Lists by Genre 8. Percentage of Genre Allocation per Title 9. NME’s Circulation History 10. Q’s Circulation History 11. Mojo’s Circulation History 12. Uncut’s Circulation History Acknowledgements

The completion of this thesis would not have been possible without the help of my two

supervisors. Thank you to Professor John Hartley whose thoughts and ideas drew me into

academia in the first place, and who helped me as researcher to develop my own. My

thanks to Dr Christina Spurgeon who over the past four years has spent endless hours

reading drafts to help me clarify my ideas. Your relentless enthusiasm made the process

just that little bit easier. My thanks to those at the Creative Industries Research and

Applications Centre (CIRAC), in particular to Associate Professor Brad Haseman, who

continually offered support through the PhD process. Thank you especially to Professor

Michael Bromley, Brad Haseman, Dr Jillian Clare and Stephen Thompson whose

feedback and comments on an earlier version of this thesis contributed to the final

product that is presented here.

To those ‘behind the scenes’ – David and Rachel Breen, Ann Willis, Catherine Breen,

Cath Hart, Craig Glamuzina, Brady Mutch, Carl Forte, Stephen Nicholls, Karen

Williams, the Westside Posse, my colleagues at QUT and University of Sydney – thank you for your support. Thank you to all of the music journalists who were interviewed for this thesis. You thoughts, comments, ideas and arguments have always inspired me and your contribution to the work that follows is invaluable.

And of course to my partner Alan whose intelligence, wit and drive makes the academic

world a better place. Your tolerance of my foul moods and your support throughout this

thesis is undoubtedly the reason why I am where I am today. Cheers me dear. Introduction

The Performances of Music Journalism: Research, Method, Overview

At the beginning of 2001, music journalism briefly became a topic of interest for news journalists in both the UK and to a lesser extent, Australia. Nostalgic and pessimistic, the reports were based around two events that occurred within months of each other. The first of these was the closure of Melody Maker, the world’s oldest music title, that ceased trading along with the decade old Select at the end of 2000. Declining circulation figures were cited as the reason for closures, but the release of the film Almost Famous at the same time added another dimension to the situation. Almost Famous is a story of a young man given his first assignment as a music journalist and follows him on his adventures on tour with a rock band struggling for mass popularity. Set in the early 1970s, the film is overtly nostalgic and refers to an ideal of music journalism that was autonomous and artistic, and one that was free from the demands of the publishing and music industries. As a text, the film provided a narrative that stood in contrast to the contemporary practice of music journalism, and it is this contrast that provided commentators with a contextual framework to examine what were deemed to be the inadequacies of the music press.

Representative of the commentary in the UK news press at this time was Mulholland’s

(2001) observation that just as Almost Famous “has raised the profile of the humble music hack to hitherto unimagined heights, the British music press is in crisis”(np). Additionally, the author went on to imply that people were no longer reading magazines due to a lack of

“rock ‘n’ roll personalities – of decent copy” (np). This view was held by other commentators who argue that “more than any other sector, music magazines rise and fall by the popularity of the music they cover” (Dance Mags Climb, 2001). Academic investigations, too, weighed

in on the state of the music press and music journalism in the UK. Forde (2001), for example,

argues that in an increasingly overcrowded market, personality journalism, that had been so

central to the UK music press in its halcyon days and was evoked as the music journalism

ideal in Almost Famous, was being “superseded by a single branded magazine identity”

(p.23). In Forde’s summation it is the commercial interests of publishers of the UK consumer

music press that contribute to the declining standards of music journalism in that country.

The decline of personality in music journalism and declining readerships attributed to the

shifting popularity of musical genres are some of the more prominent discourses that accompanied the closures of Melody Maker and Select. This led to a general assumption amongst many commentators that the music press was no longer an important cultural force.

But as Sutherland (2001) argued during the same period, if “the music press is dead…then someone has clearly neglected to inform the deceased” (np). He argues that at the end of

2000 in the UK:

Of the 12 significant titles that have music as their main editorial focus, only three show decline both period-on-period and year-on-year, while most of the titles operating in the musical niche look positively buoyant (np).

Two different understandings of the UK music press were emerging and both had very

different stories to tell. Observations based on circulation figures can lead to specific

explanations of the positive or negative fortunes of the music press. The timing of the release

of Almost Famous certainly held some explanatory power resulting in the negative aspects

that received most attention during this period. Changes to circulation figures and nostalgic

accounts suggest that something has changed, but they provide limited explanations for why

this change has occurred. Focusing on the relationship between the reader and writer in the consumer music press provides an alternative. This thesis focuses on this relationship and

argues it is central to understanding the evolution of music journalism and gives a fuller

understanding of the consumer music press that nostalgic discourses and marketing analyses

may not. It is this approach that frames the analysis and provides the focus of this thesis.

The suggestion that relationships are important in the reading and writing of music

journalism are confirmed in a performance piece by three music journalists called Lloyd Cole

Knew My Father. Debuting at the Edinburgh Comedy Festival in 2001, the show featured

Andrew Collins, David Quantick and Stuart Maconie who had met while working at one of the world’s most famous and revered music publications, the New Musical Express (NME).

Unlike seminars held by high profile news journalists, this performance did not involve an opinion piece structured around contemporary social, economic and/or political issues.

Instead, the show revealed that these journalists often didn’t attend gigs that they reviewed and, when they did, there were times when they mistook the support act for the main attraction. They also told the audience that Sting was a little pompous, Shaun Ryder was often drugged up and confused during the 1990s and that Lou Reed was the curmudgeon’s

curmudgeon. This may not necessarily be surprising knowledge, but a demonstration of the

function of music journalism was taking place.

Unlike attending a seminar hosted by a news journalist, the audience of Lloyd Cole Knew My

Father did not necessarily attend to be educated. Rather, they were invited to be stimulated

through humour and through the subversion of the discourses of popular music that music

journalists often employ to justify their opinions. Lloyd Cole Knew My Father was less a case

of entertaining an audience than it was a cosy chat full of reminiscing, ‘in-jokes’, and names and anecdotes that relied on a shared knowledge between the performers and the audience.

What is revealed in a performance such as this is something that market analysis and

circulation figures cannot explain. Lloyd Cole Knew My Father demonstrated how music

journalism can be understood as a dialogue – a dialogue that takes place within the relationship between readers (in this context, the audience) and writers (the performers).

These performances, both on stage and in the audience, were an example of the community of music journalism – a community who, in their dialogue, contribute to the circulation of the discourses associated with popular music.

Research Focus

Circulation figures and market analysis impart a particular understanding of the trade of journalism, but they do not reveal the more implicit differences between distinct types of journalism and journalistic outlets. They cannot, for example, examine differences within the trade and/or profession. For while the profession of journalism across media outlets may have many similarities and justify such an approach, the performance of journalism takes many different forms. It is these different forms that escape such an analytical framework. News journalism and music journalism, for example, will share many professional characteristics, but their performances cannot, and should not, be analysed in similar ways. Both forms serve very different readers with very different agendas in place. Generally speaking, news journalism aims to perform an objective reporting service based on truth. The discourse of music journalism is one concerned with consumer guidance and it undertakes this role through a notion of trust. But there are differences within music journalism, and it is these differences that are not always apparent in market analysis and/or a political economy framework.

I have employed the term performance as a means of understanding music journalism as an

act and/or a process that contributes to the establishment of its own discourse. Frith (1996), in

his discussion of performance in popular music and art, argues that the term “defines a social

– or communicative – process” that depends on “collusion from the audience” (p.205). He

argues that all performances involve “framing” (p.207) recalling Goffman’s (1974) model of

social interaction that describes frames as models that are employed to make sense of social

experience. While Goffman’s theory is traditionally associated with the communication

theory of performance (see Wood 2000), this thesis uses the idea of performance as a

metaphor, not a method. I am interested, like Frith, in the idea of “collusion” and “frames”,

and how these two come together to sustain a relationship with readers in the consumer music

press. Rather than adhering specifically to performance theory, I have adapted the ideas of

“collusion” and “frames” into the terms, relationship/s and critical frameworks. In the same

way that “collusion” relies on “frames”, so too the establishment and maintenance of

relationships rely on critical frameworks. For looking at journalism as a performance, rather

than a profession, is meant to recognise the dialogue between readers and writer in this situation, and argues that this performance (like many of those associated with the ‘arts’) is more about interpretation, than a straightforward relay of information. And it is the changes in interpretation, the “frames”, that is of concern for most commentators in regards to contemporary music journalism.

Thinking about music journalism as a performance that is reliant on a relationship, invites the

researcher to consider what parts of the collusion between writer and reader have transformed

and whether these have challenged the established discourse of music journalism – that is, informed consumer guidance. This thesis concentrates on the critical framing that underpins

music journalism in the UK and Australia and agrees that an evolution in this framing has

occurred. But more succinctly, the research aims to address the question;

What influences are apparent in the transformation of critical frames employed in

music journalism?

This question is influenced by the transformative observations noted above that suggest

music journalism has transformed into a newly recognisable, but far inferior, cultural

practice. As the commentary surrounding the UK magazine closures and the film Almost

Famous suggest, music journalism may be quite unrecognisable to its historical examples, and this thesis is interested in understanding why this is the case. It seems that popularity of musical genres, economic imperatives, declining readerships and the advent of new media have all variously been employed as explanations for changes to the performance of music journalism. Accordingly, these observations are addressed within the various chapters of the thesis and are organised by looking at performances of music journalism in the UK and

Australia. More specifically, the thesis has been divided into three sections (each consisting of two chapters) as a way of guiding the research and, the reader, through what are understood to be the most pertinent sites for investigating the main research question:

Section One: Historical and Industrial Overview

ƒ Historically, what factors have contributed to the establishment and

maintenance of relationships in music journalism?

ƒ Is there a relationship between the industrial organisation of the music press and

the evolution of the critical frames of music journalism?

Section Two: Contemporary Performances of Music Journalism ƒ What are the critical frameworks of the UK rock music journalism and what

recent influences had led to their creation and circulation?

ƒ What critical frameworks are apparent in the most visible performance of music

journalism in Australian and what influences are recognisable in this context?

Section Three: Challenges to Established Music Journalism

ƒ What is the relationship the critical frameworks offered by online music titles

and other examples on music journalism on the Internet?

ƒ Is there a relationship between the different frameworks of music journalism

that appear in the wider media market?

These questions aim to contribute to developing an approach for understanding and theorising music journalism. What is apparent at this stage is that the work here is less interested in describing the day-to-day tasks of music journalists or the environmental

conditions in which they often work. Rather, following on from the work of Hartley (1996)

and Lumby (1999), this thesis considers journalism from a perspective of readerships.

Although both Hartley and Lumby are more interested in the evolution of news journalism,

their work demonstrates the insights that are gained in understanding the performance of journalism from a reader’s point of view. In their work, for example, changing news values reflect the changing values, morals, fears, hopes and attitudes of journalism’s readers. In this project, understanding the social, cultural and market forces that influence the production of music journalism may lead us to understand why readers respond to the changing frameworks associated with the performances. The work here does not intend to speak on behalf of the readers of the UK and Australian music press. Like Hartley and Lumby the work that follows is not an audience survey about the possible meanings of music journalism. Instead, it is an examination of selective textual features of the relationship between reader and writer to understand the broader trajectory within which the discourse of music journalism operates.

Accordingly, this thesis in posited within the broader aims of the discipline of cultural studies.

Research Context:

Cultural Studies

The history and development of the discipline of cultural studies has been covered succinctly by other writers (see Turner 1990, Hartley 2003) and it is not my intention to repeat such an achievement here. Yet certain features of the discipline warrant attention for they situate the thesis in a disciplinary context. Cultural studies is an advancement on literary and art based criticism which aims to understand the production of meaning in texts so that it could then be taught to others as a methodology (i.e. literary criticism). Comparatively, cultural studies undertook the study of all forms of culture, not just those allocated to the realm of high culture, to understand the “full range of ways in which people individually and collectively express and have expressed themselves” (Hall 2001, p.301). Initially concerned with questions of power and questions of equality, the discipline has evolved into one that embraces a wider agenda, that is involved in “textualizing and historicizing everyday life”

(During 1993, p.25). Everyday life for cultural studies may involve analysis of, for example, advertising (Williamson 1978), television (Hartley 1999, McKee 2001), literature and film

(Turner 1986), music (Swiss, Sloop & Herman 1998) fashion (McRobbie 1989a) and journalism (Hartley 1996, Lumby 1999).

Studies of journalism have historically been situated within a media studies and communication discipline, though the work undertaken by cultural studies authors suggests it is possible to extend the field of enquiry. As media studies methodologies increasingly

become associated with policy and technological frameworks, cultural studies provides a

context for the work here that does not engage with music journalism through either of those

theoretical lenses. Media studies is useful for understanding media producers and ways of

producing, and, as such, this discipline’s aim is not entirely abandoned here. Comparatively,

a cultural studies approach will often place texts and consumers at the centre of its analysis.

By employing some of the concerns of media studies through a cultural studies framework,

the aim is for a better understanding of cultural meanings and practices as well as the

institutions and technologies that allow these to take place. Most importantly, cultural studies

is not interested in positing meta-narratives about its object of analysis, and this thesis is an

example of such an approach. The approach employed here is one of the many ways of

understanding the performance of music journalism. It is not necessarily the ‘correct’

approach – rather it is one of many. However, it is an approach that is informed by the work

that has undertaken an analysis of popular music, journalism and the theory of discourse.

Popular Music’s “Knowing Community”

Adorno (1975) instigated the earliest academic study of popular music. He was interested in

charting a “sociology of popular music” which he defined as knowledge of the relationships

between “music and the socially organized individuals who listen to it” (p.1). Interested in how media products related to questions of power, Adorno proposed that popular music in his era was “a training course in a passivity that will probably spread to his [the fan’s] thought and social conduct” (p.30). Although negative in its connotation, Adorno’s argument that music is significant beyond its purchase was to be explored further by other popular music scholars who revealed that this influence did not need to be figured in a passive sense. As

Thornton (1995) has argued, music and taste “in music, for youth in particular, is often seen as the key to one’s distinct sense of self” (p.164, see also, Straw 2001) and this is often what forms the basis of academic approaches that look at music subcultures (see, for example

Gelder & Thornton 1997). Music’s significance in the lives of individuals and in subcultures and taste cultures is central to the research frameworks employed by sociological and media studies approaches that seek to understand popular music texts and those who consume them

(see, for example, Bennett 1999, 2001; Frith 1978, 1983; Negus 1996).

Indicative of these approaches, Shuker (1994) argues that when attempting to understand popular culture and popular music we must recognise that “neither texts nor their consumers exist in isolation” (p.5). Shuker argues that neither the texts nor the audiences associated with popular music can be understood as possessing an essence that allows generalisations to be made. Definitions, approaches and arguments are often framed within audience, industry and/or text when approaching music, but attention needs to be paid to the mediators that operate between these approaches. Music journalism is one such mediator and works within the layers of mediation provided by radio, television, films, performances and other genres of journalism. But mediation works within different frameworks that are applicable to different contexts and different types of popular culture. As Shepherd, Virden, Vulliamy, and Wishart

(1977) argue, “any kind of music can only be understood in terms of the criteria of the group or society which makes and appreciates that music” (p.1). Similarly Frith (1996) suggests that arguments about good or bad music “are only possible when they take place within a shared critical discourse” (p.10). This “criteria” and “critical discourse” is what exists between texts and consumers in popular music and may be mediated by, for example, like-minded friends, academic scholars, fans of particular bands and genres, as well as those who trade in the discourse of popular music – music journalists.

Frith (1983) notes that the music press “are important even for those who don’t buy them – their readers act as the opinion leaders, the rock interpreters, the ideological gatekeepers for everyone else” (p.165). Frith here is noting the textual features of music journalism whereby opinions are traded, ideologies are formed and meanings are negotiated through the music press. But it is not simply the readers of the music press who are initiating these procedures as Frith argues in his later work. He says:

For most rock critics…the issue in the end isn’t so much representing music to the public (the public to the musician) as creating a knowing community, orchestrating a collusion between selected musicians and an equally select part of the public – select in its superiority to the ordinary, undiscriminating pop consumer (1996, p.67, my emphasis)

The creation of a “knowing community” is the aim of music journalism. If readers are opinion leaders, then they are permitted to be so by participating in the discourse of music journalism. Certainly as the texts, audiences and the ways popular music can be consumed continue to change, the relationship between music journalism and its readers must also change. One of the aims of this thesis is to explore whether these changes have resulted in a challenge to the discourse of music journalism. If there is a desire to be part of the “knowing community” of popular music, music journalism will continue to exist as one of the mediators between texts and audience. Whether the knowing community associated with this mediation is the same in all performances of rock music journalism is something this thesis aims to uncover.

Music Journalism as a Textual System

This thesis looks at the relationship between the reader and the writer in the music press to

understand the performance of music journalism and whether and/or how the critical framing associated with it has transformed. It is less interested in journalism as a trade and/or a profession and some of the more common attributes assigned to the performance of news journalism. Hartley (1996) has argued that in discussing journalism as a profession, questions that seek an answer as to, “where it comes from, what is it for, and how it works” are often neglected in the analytical frameworks that are routinely employed (p.35). But, as he demonstrates, it is possible to reassess journalism as a practice that goes beyond its prescribed functions and to understand it as a textual system. He says:

The most important textual feature of journalism is the fact that it counts as true. The most important component of its system is the creation of readers as publics, and the connection of these readerships to other systems such as those of politics, economics and social control (p.35, emphasis in original)

Both of these components provide the means by which to understand the context of music

journalism. Music journalism’s textual feature is less about truth than it is about trust. Acting

as a mediator between text and audience, music journalism’s function is to report, but it also

functions as a consumer guide for consumers of popular music who use its discourse as

informative frameworks. As a “system” it shares a commonality with Hartley’s

understanding, as music journalism ‘connects’ readers as part of its construction of a

“knowing community”. Music journalism also connects with political, economical and social

systems, as noted by Hartley, in its role of mediator. More specifically, it connects to those

systems that relate to the production, distribution and consumption of popular music as well

as the aesthetic approaches to understanding music texts and performers. It is in connecting

these to other systems that music journalism and its readers also contribute to the discourses of popular music. It is through these discourses that the textual system of music journalism

creates, maintains and connects readers in the name of consumer guidance.

Discourse

Hartley (1996) argues that understanding journalism as a profession rather than a textual

system results in journalism not being “taught to understand their product from the point of

view of ‘the customer’, [that is] their readers” (p.37). This is certainly one of the aims of this

thesis and it works towards this aim by employing the term discourse. Mills (1997) in her

analysis of the term argues that discourse “cannot be pinned down to one meaning, since it

has had a complex history and it is used in a range of different ways by different theorists”

(p.6). Mills, like McHoul and Grace (1993), surveys the work of Foucault, specifically The

Order of Things (1973) and The Archaeology of Knowledge (1972) and argues that there is no one definition, but a series of identifiable applications for the term that arise in his work. In noting how the term might be applied in cultural theory, Mills argues that the practitioner should recognise that:

a discourse is not a disembodied collection of statements, but groupings of utterances or sentences, statements which are enacted within a social context, which are determined by that social context and which contribute to the way that social context continues its existence (p.11)

This is a definition that applies to the work being undertaken here.

Although there are different meanings attributed to the term and therefore different

applications and methodologies associated with it, cultural studies practitioners seem to

concur with the definition offered by Mills. For example, Turner (1990) defines discourse as: socially produced groups of ideas or ways of thinking that can be tracked to individual texts or groups of texts, but that also demand to be located within wider historical and social structures or relations (pp.32-33)

Similarly, Fiske (1987) argues that discourse describes a “language or system of

representation that has been developed socially in order to make and circulate a coherent set

of meanings about an important topic area” (p.14). The definitions offered by Mills, Turner

and Fiske all suggest a working definition that employs discourse to discuss how frameworks for ‘thinking’ are organised within and by particular structures. Discourse may be socially

produced, but as Turner’s quote suggests, it can be traced to particular texts and this is where the term is useful here. The relationship between discourse and the music press is one that involves understanding and analysing the performance of music journalism. These

performances, which involve dialogue between reader and writer, is what produces, circulates

and frames the ways of thinking about popular music and contributes to the discourse of

music journalism.

In order to understand what the contemporary discourse of music journalism might be it is

necessary to investigate what leads to the “frameworks of ideas within which understanding

can occur” (Macdonald 2003, p.33). It is here that the search for the critical frameworks

involved in the performances of music journalism is paramount. Fiske (1987) for example,

argues that “discourse is necessarily part of a relationship between addresser and addressee”

(p.53) and in the consumer music press, one of the ways this relationship is established and maintained is through the development of critical frameworks that guide popular music consumers. Critical frameworks are analogous to the “set of meanings” that McKee (2003, p.19) refers to in his analysis of how discourse is constructed. Evolving critical frameworks suggest an evolving paradigm of “sense-making practices” (McKee, ibid.) in the performances of music journalism and analysis of these will assist in understanding whether a change to discourse can be located in the consumer music press. This thesis looks towards understanding the relationship between critical framing and a challenge to the perceived discourse of music journalism and uses the following methodological approaches to achieve this goal.

Methodology

In his exploration of representation in men’s magazines, Edwards (2003) calls his objects of analysis “cultural texts” (p.134). The use of this term, he argues, recognises that “meaning lies as much if not more with the subject or reader as it does with object or text” (ibid). The method of enquiry employed for this thesis is one that treats music journalism and the music press as a series of cultural texts. In order to understand the complexities of meanings generated by rock music journalism, several different methodological approaches have been incorporated. Specifically, these are, case study approach, textual analysis and interviews.

Case Study

Stake (2000) argues that a case study methodology “draws attention to what specifically can be learned from the single case” (p.435) that, in this thesis, is music journalism associated with the consumer music press. The music press itself is a very general description of a type of publishing that can include journalism about different types of musical genres (such as classical, opera, country and western), as well as titles about the trade of popular music itself

(such as Music Week and Billboard). But in order to learn “specifically” it is necessary to draw the limits of the case even further. This thesis studies music press titles that are classified as consumer titles in industry/market overview releases such as the Audit Bureau of Circulation (ABC’s) in the UK and in Australia. From a textual point of view, this thesis is a

case study of consumer titles that have an editorial focus on popular music genres and would not include, for example, magazines that deal with classical, folk or country and western genres. Consumer music press titles are a global medium and as such a further delineation of

case study is required.

For the past twenty years the UK consumer music press has formed part of my regular media

consumption. The music covered, the personalities, the critiques, the photographs and the

features of this medium have entertained, infuriated and enlightened me throughout my

engagement with popular music. It is for this reason that these titles form the basis of enquiry

for this thesis as I have witnessed many transformations in the medium since my initial

contact. From a research viewpoint, the UK music press has been subjected to some historical

analysis that provides a foundation for this thesis to build upon. Additionally, it is possible to

capture a map of the UK music press through this previous work and contemporary analysis

published regularly in trade sites such as the ‘Media’ section of the The Guardian and titles

such as the Press Gazette and Media Week.

This thesis also looks at aspects of Australian music journalism in recognition of the global

existence of the profession and music publications, and to acknowledge the peculiarly

national contexts in which music journalism often operates. Although Australia has a small

number of consumer press titles, music journalism has a history in that country that has

remained relatively under-researched. Being a resident in Australia, I also have an interest in

the Australian music press and, more specifically, why what was once a healthy medium has

faded into relative obscurity. Yet it is important to state that what follows is not strictly a comparative approach, though it is likely that certain comparisons will be present. Rather, through broadening the lens of analysis by looking at two sites for music journalism the aim is to provide not only new historical insight in both contexts but, more succinctly, to reveal the multifarious performances of music journalism.

Stake (2000) argues that one form of case study is that of the “intrinsic case study”, which provides a better understanding of a particular case, but contends that such an approach may not be interested in “theory building” (p.437). This thesis does expect to contribute to the media and cultural theory more generally, but the approach to the case is an intrinsic one.

Building materials for analysis involved an immersion in these cultural texts, and all the music press titles discussed in this thesis were regularly read over a five year period.

Additionally, my own informal knowledge as a reader of these particular texts is also embedded in this intrinsic approach and contributed to certain elements being chosen for further analysis. This intrinsic approach allows what Jensen (2002) calls “thematic coding”

(p.247) to occur. This process is one that results in various “concepts, headings or themes” emerging, and is one that invites comparing and contrasting of these elements to understand the contexts of communication (ibid.) within these texts. Thematic coding is particularly evident in the process of reviewing scholarly literature on music journalism and has resulted in Chapter One reflecting the themes arising from that review. But thematic coding also contributed to a particular framework for understanding music journalism whereby regularity and repetition of themes invite closer analysis of the critical frameworks at work. This process is one that is aided by methodology of textual analysis.

Textual Analysis

Locating thematic concerns in cultural texts is complemented by the process of textual analysis. Turner (1997) argues that it is a process that sees “media products as texts…to emphasise their complexity [and] to question their ‘taken-for-grantedness’” (p.310). The meaning of cultural texts can all too quickly be dismissed in the way Turner describes, and this is the value of a textual analysis approach. McKee’s (2003) explanation describes the approach as a “methodology for gathering information about sense-making practices” to understand how various cultures make sense of the texts that surround them (p.63).

Importantly, in acknowledgement of the aim to understand music journalism from a readers point of view, textual analysis “privileges the reader-text relationship over the sender- receiver relationship” (Turner 1997, p.311). In other words, this methodology is not necessarily interested in the intended meanings of the texts, but rather how those meanings might be interpreted by readers who encounter them. Textual analysis invites the researcher to understand the most likely meanings available from the viewpoint of the reader and complements this research’s aim to understand the different performances of music journalism.

In his guide to performing textual analysis, McKee (2003) argues that it is important to “get

some sense of the rules” about how cultural texts work (p.116). For the research undertaken

here, this involved reading all the titles under analysis over a five-year period (and often

longer) and noting the most pertinent features for analysis. Features that are regular to these

publications include feature stories, reviews sections, news, chart listings, letters to the editor

and end of year listings of the best albums for a given year. These are the textual examples of

“the rules” that govern the content of the music press. But in attempting to understand how music journalism performs its most visible role of consumer guidance it is necessarily to

undertake a deeper analysis. For example, Chapter Three of this thesis focuses on the end of

year listings to understand whether generic differences can be noted in the UK rock press.

But to understand how performances of journalism differed amongst these titles it is

necessary to undertake a deeper analysis to identify the themes and frameworks of

interpretation that are used to justify these selections. This is not the same as discourse

analysis, which would pay special attention to the linguistics of specific examples of

language (see, for example, McLoughlin 2000, Schiffrin 1994). Textual analysis, instead,

helps to reveal the “sense-making” paradigms, or what this thesis terms the critical

frameworks, and the “assumptions behind them” (McKee 2003, p.17) that are necessary to

the relationship between the reader and the writer of the music press. Surveying the UK and

Australian music press with a textual analysis method allows both a generalised sense of

music journalism’s function and the possibility of a more detailed critique of individual titles

and their varying displays of the performance of music journalism.

Interviews

Textual analysis performed for this case study reveals particular themes and events occurring

regularly across the music press titles under investigation. With this methodology imparting a

sense of subjectivity, interviews with music journalists in the UK and Australia were conducted to help contextualise these themes and events within the broader research focus.

May (1997) argues that interviews allow insights into “experiences, opinions, aspirations, attitudes and feelings” (p.109) that can complement the method of textual analysis.

Interviews in this instance assist “the researcher with a means of analysing the ways in which people consider events and relationships and the reasons they offer for doing so” (p.130). Interviews conducted for this thesis were not intended to necessarily “measure” the attitudes

of a number of music journalists (see Foddy 1993) but rather to explore the themes uncovered

by textual analysis and to gain their insight on these observations. Interviews provide a

method of enquiry that works to support some of the more theoretical aspects of academic

enquiry.

Interviews for this thesis were carried out in London and in Sydney in 2001, while interviews

with the editors of the Brisbane street press were conducted in the latter half of 2002. Table 1

lists the interviews conducted with UK music journalists and includes the dates of the interviews as well as the positions held and currently held by those who took part. The working history of the UK journalists is included here to connote what has often been their

role in shaping the performance landscape of music journalism in that country. Table 2 lists

the interviews conducted within Australia and highlights some of the problems with a

methodology of this kind. To instigate the process, letters and information packs were sent to

each of the titles under analysis in the UK and to both Rolling Stone and Juice magazines in

Australia. Similar packs were sent to all editors of Brisbane’s street press in 2002. As with research of this nature, not all attempts to contact relevant parties were successful. In

Australia, for example, Rolling Stone journalists, editors and publishers declined to take part

in the interviewing process. Similarly, establishing contact with UK journalists from an

Australian base initially proved problematic. However, once based in UK and undertaking

the initial interviews, what occurred was a form of ‘word of mouth’ instigation. Once

candidates had been interviewed they routinely offered to contact other colleagues who they

believed would be interested in the research on my behalf. As a result, a range of interview

candidates was established which eventuated in journalists from all titles central to the thesis, Table 1

Interviews Conducted with UK Music Journalists

Name Positions Held Date Current Position Interviewed Alexander, Phil Journalist, Editor – Kerrang! 26/7/01 Editor-in-chief – Q

Bee, Sarah Journalist – Melody Maker 2/8/01 Journalist – Playlouder.com Bonner, Michael Journalist – NME, Film 30/7/01 Film Editor – Uncut Editor – Uncut Dunoyer, Paul Journalist – NME, Melody 17/7/01 Journalist/Editor - Word Maker, Smash Hits, Q, Mojo Content Control – Emap Online Harris, John Journalist – NME, Journalist 18/7/01 Senior Writer – Q, Freelance – Select, Editor – Select Journalist – Mojo, the Independent, Blender (US) Jones, Allan Journalist & Editor – Melody 30/7/01 Editor – Uncut Maker, Editor – Uncut Lester, Paul Journalist – Melody Maker, 31/7/01 Mus ic Editor – Uncut Uncut. Music Editor – Uncut Lowe, Steve Journalist – Select, Q 11/7/01 Freelance Journalist – Q, Mojo, Blender (US) Lynskey, Dorian Journalist – Select, Q, 26/7/01 Freelance Journalist – Q, the Kingsize (defunct) Guardian, Blender (US) Mullen, John Journalist – Select, Q and 8/8/01 Freelance Journalist – Q, Mojo Mojo. Editor – mojo4music.com Oldham, James Journalist – NME, Deputy 20/7/01 Unknown (interviewee left the Editor – NME NME during 2003) Petridis, Alexis Journalist – mixmag, Select, 3/8/01 Music Editor and Journalist – Q. Editor – Select the Guardian

Quantick, David Journalist – NME, Melody 19/6/01 Freelance Journalist – Q, Maker, Select, Q, Mojo. Blender (US), Word (launched Writer – Brass Eye 2003)

Table 2

Interviews Conducted with Australian Music Journalists

Name Positions Held Date Interviewed Current Position Connors, Journalist, Editor – 4/12/02 Editor – Time Off Matthew Time Off President – ‘Q Music’, Queensland Cresswell, Toby Journalist, Editor – 7/09/01 Unknown Rolling Stone. Publisher, Publishing Editor – Juice Grimwade, Marc Journalist, Deputy 21/11/02 Deputy Editor – Editor – Scene Scene Hitchings, Stuart Journalist – Rolling 8/9/01 Unknown Stone, Juice

with the exception of Smash Hits, being interviewed. This was less a result of non-interest on behalf of that title than it was a reflection of the close-knit community of UK music journalists who work for rock, as opposed to pop, music titles.

Interviews were conducted in a semi-structured nature with the questions themselves evolving through the period of the interviews. Dominant themes from textual analysis and historical research as well as the common themes and ideas that arose throughout the interviewing process were discussed with interviewees who were invited to comment on my own, and their peer’s understandings of music journalism and the music press. By way of summary, interviewees were invited to comment on:

ƒ The contemporary practice of music journalism in their country

ƒ Who they thought were readers of the music press, in particular of their own titles

ƒ The role of branding in their profession

ƒ How might the brand and the values attributed to it be recognised textually?

ƒ Their perception of the role of new media technologies (such as the Internet, MP3s,

etc) and new outlets for music criticism in the future of music journalism

The data collected from these interviews were then transcribed and subjected to a form of textual analysis with the similarities and differences being used to summarise the thoughts of these practitioners. It is their thoughts, anecdotes, recollections, personal experience and indeed their identification as readers of music journalism that contributes to structuring the findings of this case study.

Jensen (2002) argues, “a purpose of case studies is normally to arrive at descriptions and typologies which have implications for other, or larger, social systems” (p.239). The aim of this thesis is to study particular performances of music journalism, but to also acknowledge

their historical formats so that the evolution of this type of media practice becomes more

apparent. Such a task involves looking at historical music journalism texts, and this was

undertaken as a method of enquiry via public libraries in the UK and Australia. Looking at

the older forms of the music press titles under analysis provides a greater understanding not

only of the case study but educates the researcher in preparation for contemporary textual

analysis and the process of interviewing. Additionally, this preparation is complemented by a

review of academic literature that concerns music journalism. With minimal scholarly

analysis of the UK music press undertaken and almost no work of this nature undertaken in

Australia, opinions and information from journalistic sites such as The Guardian and trade

sites such as The Press Gazette were also consulted to appreciate some of the wider

contextual understandings of the music press and music journalism. Additionally, scholarly

work that looks at popular music, journalism, new media, audiences and economic and

business practices was also sourced as a way of extending the scholarly means to understand

the performance of music journalism.

The methodological approach outlined above is woven throughout the three sections that

structure the body of the thesis. Preceding these three sections is a literature review that aims

to initiate investigation into the transformations of critical frameworks associated with music journalism. In order to understand these transformations, the literature review surveys

scholarly work that has examined both the practice of music journalism and the workings of

the consumer music press. The intention behind the literature review is to draw common

frameworks for understanding the music press and music journalism and to apply these to the

sections that follow. What will become apparent in the literature review is that sites of investigation are usually located in both the US and the UK. While the work that has

examined the UK will be further explored and critiqued, the aim to include an Australian case

study in what follows is an attempt to better understand whether performances of music

journalism can be understood as transnational.

Chapter Outline

Section One of the thesis is largely historical and looks at what can be classified as the

cultural and the industrial factors that may have contributed to the contemporary

performances of music journalism. Chapter Two employs many of the frameworks, themes

and interpretations uncovered in the literature review and applies them to the historical

development of music journalism in the UK and Australia. While many scholarly

observations have been made regarding the UK, this chapter employs new textual examples

to examine the claims that have been made about the performance of music journalism in that

country. With little research being undertaken in Australia, this chapter employs the

frameworks used to describe the UK to offer new historical knowledge about music

journalism in this country. An examination of both nations allows the thesis to consider what

cultural factors have influenced the growth and decline of the practice in both countries as

well as contributing to an understanding of how the framing associated with music journalism

comes into being. Furthermore, it aims to understand whether these factors have similar

relevance beyond national borders – a theme that is also present in Section Two.

In aiming to uncover what influences have impinged on the performances of music journalism, Chapter Three looks to the publishing organisations largely responsible for the consumer music press titles in the UK and, to a lesser extent, in Australia. There is a long tradition in media studies to attribute cultural practices to organisational ones and this chapter

aims to acknowledge this important trajectory. By examining the history of these companies,

how their publishing arms are structured and how they view their products, this chapter

complements that which came before it in identifying what is pertinent to understanding the

evolution of the critical framing associated with music journalism. For example, UK

publishers East Midland Allied Press (EMAP) and International Publishing Company (IPC

Media) promote their organisations as ones that are built on brands and, as a result, the endless possibility of brand extensions. How these kinds of imperatives intersect with the cultural influences on the performances of music journalism will become apparent and sets up the explorations that take place in the following section.

Section Two of the thesis maps some contemporary performances of music journalism and

examines the critical frameworks embedded within them. It aims to provide a segue between

the observations made in Section One and the challenges to music journalism explored in

Section Three. Chapter Four focuses on a specific genre of the consumer music press – the

UK consumer rock press. This category includes many of the titles explored in academic

literature such as the NME and Melody Maker, but also includes a number of new titles that

entered the market in the latter half of the 1990s. Researchers of music journalism suggest

that each genre of popular music invites a particular discourse of music journalism (Toynbee

1993) and that this therefore is notable in genre-specific titles such as Smash Hits (pop

music), Kerrang! (heavy metal) and mix-mag (dance). This chapter asks whether all titles

within the same genre can and do promote similar critical frameworks and seeks to answer

this by examining the end of year polls that are common to all titles in this category. By

looking for similarities and differences in the performances of music journalism in this genre, this chapter seeks to understand what critical frameworks make up the performances of UK

rock music journalism.

A smaller population and publishing market prevent a similar analysis being undertaken in

Australia. Only three monthly popular music consumer titles have been regularly published in

this country since the inception of this project – Rolling Stone, Smash Hits and Kerrang! – and they are all indigenised versions of overseas products and display critical approaches influenced by musical genre. Instead, Chapter Five looks at another form of music journalism that is prominent in Australia and one that has counterparts in certain cities and localities in the UK. The street press displays a very different format to most music press titles, and, as such, may perform a different approach to music journalism. This chapter explores the street press in a particular Australian location, Brisbane, to ascertain what features of this performance are different to the more typical representations of music journalism. A micro- approach such as this, allows for an analysis of what factors contribute to the street press being the most visible form of music journalism in Australia as well as providing the opportunity to explore what other functions can be attributed to this medium beyond the role of consumer guidance. This particular case study complements that which precedes it and together this section of the thesis aims to provide a snapshot of the differing performances of music journalism that can be found in particular national categories. This section therefore proposes the impracticability of suggesting a dominant and transnational performance of music journalism.

The changing fortunes of the consumer music press and the decreasing prominence of music

journalism is often attributed to the emerging textual spaces that deal with popular music criticism and information. Section Three therefore seeks to uncover the viability of such

claims by looking at the role of new media technologies and diffusion of music journalism to

be found in other mediums outside the consumer music press. Chapter Six looks specifically

at the Internet which is understood to offer a virtual space to a myriad of music journalist

performances. Not only is the Internet home to online sites for the UK magazine titles examined in the previous section, but it also offers virtual space to a myriad of other journalistic practices that could be seen to threaten the prestige of the print profession. This chapter therefore examines how performances established and maintained in print are able to translate online, as well as looking at other sites that perform an alternative type of music journalism. By focusing on the band Blur, analysis is undertaken of the official site established by their record company along with two fan sites that regularly provide information regarding the band. Rather than an exercise to only compare and contrast, this chapter explores why different performances of music journalism are able to co-exist alongside each other in this new medium. The Internet as a medium is often claimed as a revolutionary one as it offers new forms of participation and opportunities for the creation of content. But by looking at the ‘old’ and ‘new’ performances of music journalism occurring on the Internet, this chapter asks whether activity of this kind is indeed revolutionary or whether it is more applicable to describe it as evolutionary. It is the latter description that may lend itself to understanding the contemporary critical frameworks of music journalism.

The final chapter surveys a range of media products that include different performances of

music journalism to understand how these forms are able to coexist. In coexisting with

performances taking place in other magazine genres and outlets such as daily newspapers, is

it actually possible to argue for a coherent and contemporary discourse of music journalism? Employing the work of Hartley (2004), Chapter Seven posits that it might be possible to

understand this relationship among different performances of music journalism as

representing a chain of meaning. These findings are then considered in light of the chapters

that precede it that inevitably have involved a recognition of the evolutionary nature of the

consumption of popular music. As music preferences are becoming more eclectic and modes of consumption are increasingly changing due to technological advances (i.e. MP3 and iPod’s), this chapter explores how these changes resonate with the contemporary performances of music journalism. The exploration of the relationship between performance and consumption works towards understanding the contemporary discourse of music journalism and mapping a possible future for the profession drawing upon the analyses and the evaluations that have informed the thesis up until this point.

This thesis aims to explore the factors that have influenced the critical frameworks apparent

in the contemporary performance of music journalism. In examining examples from both the

UK and Australia it presupposes that journalism of this nature is multifarious and that the

performance associated with it may not be able to be described in the singular. However this

research is motivated by claims that suggest there was once a time where this wasn’t the case.

Nostalgic narratives like those in Almost Famous present us with particular versions of how

some people would like to remember music journalism, but this offers little to understand

why we the contemporary texts take the form they do. Circulation figures and market analysis

will tell us that readers are not as numerous as they used to be, but are unable to tell anything

about what music journalism has to offer to those readers that remain. A political economy

view may indeed reveal much about the organisational and institutional demands upon the

profession, but its methodology cannot account for differences within and music journalism itself. As such what follows is an attempt that employs some of these approaches alongside a case study analysis that aims to understand transformative journey of music journalism and to reach some conclusions about what the contemporary practices say about the changing dialogue between readers and writers within this cultural sphere of production.

Chapter One

Literature Review: Music Journalism and Academic Insights

In comparison to scholarly work undertaken on other media forms such as television and

news journalism, literature that specifically considers music journalism and the consumer

music press remains relatively limited. Nevertheless, the approaches authors have undertaken

provide useful paradigms for approaching the contemporary practice of music journalism.

Historical plotting, discourse analysis and the influence of music and other media are some of the ways the relationship between music journalism and its readers have been analysed. It is these approaches that provide some insight into the changing role of music journalism throughout its history while contributing more generally into an academic enquiry that looks at understanding the relationship between media and society.

What connects these approaches is a concern with change, whether it is a change in critical

approach, change in the musical climate and/or change more generally in the media

landscape that affects the relationships between the music press and its audience. Although the authors of these works are looking at different sites of production – particularly the

United States (US), United Kingdom (UK) and to a lesser extent, Australia, the process of

change is one that occurs in all spaces, though often with different results. As such, what

follows is a literature review of this work to map the scholarly observations made in this field

as a means of introducing music journalism studies and work that has considered more

generally the workings of the music press.

A Discourse of Music Journalism?

In academic writing that specifically looks at music journalism, three threads of discovery are apparent – authenticity, postmodernism and the effect of other media. Certainly the first two of these are inter-related as they imply a recognisable discourse of music journalism and a change within this discourse. Authenticity is noted as being a dominant framework associated with the discourse of popular music and it is employed in the music press as a means to unite reader and writer in the discussion of music texts and performers. While not always displaying a focus on the aesthetic, authenticity in music journalism was often evoked to describe those who were understood to embody an anti-hegemonic stance in, for example, lyrics, musical form, dress and performance. The term postmodernism has been used to describe examples of music journalism whereby the use of authenticity has been replaced with an approach that actually embraces rather than criticises contemporary culture.

Postmodern approaches in journalistic performance are understood by some as representing a decline in the service and one that seriously undermines the guidance role of music journalism. More recent approaches have avoided being ensnared in the binary of authenticity vs. postmodernism by noting instead the effect of music production (genres) and the spread of the service into new forms of music media as well as non-music publications. All of these approaches are useful in understanding the evolution of critical framing and music journalism.

Authenticity

One of the first attempts to analyse music journalism was offered by Harley and Botsman

(1982) in an article that considered the binary in which the performance was discursively

figured. In noting that journalism of this nature sat somewhere between ‘No Payola’ and the ‘Cocktail Set’ the authors are referring to the twin discourses of authenticity and

commercialism associated with popular music that they understood informed the practice of

music journalism. Tracing the civil rights and folk/hippie movements of the 1960s and the

early 1970s, the authors argue that a concept of authenticity had crept into music journalism

as artists and texts were deemed critically worthy for demonstrating signs of engaging with a

culture that was opposed to mass commodification and mainstream lifestyles. They argue that

politics and music became closely related and that this particular meeting was to be

confirmed by the advent of punk, particularly in the UK, where the movement was denoted as

being an authentic reflection of a time of cultural and political crisis. But as writers embraced

punk as an authentic example of how music could have subversive properties, Harley and

Botsman argue that these journalists inadvertently ridiculed the discourse they were

employing as a mode of criticism. They argue that journalists who used the term during this

period claimed “to exist outside the relations and conditions of [the] production of rock and

roll” (p.255). Harley and Botsman say that while music journalists during this time were happy to imagine that punk was authentic because it was ‘subversive’, “resistances do not derive from a few heterogenous principals” (p.247). Although the post-punk period in the UK would signal a reconsideration of the term’s employment, authenticity continued to be noted by other authors interested in understanding music journalism.

Evoking similar observations, Stratton (1983) uses a UK case study to make his argument

regarding the nature of authenticity as it relates to radio disc jockeys (DJs) and music journalists. In the latter profession, Stratton argues that the concept of authenticity ties musical texts to an aesthetic rather than a necessarily political discourse in order to promote the creative rather than commercial side of the product itself (pp.272-273). Arguing that a criterion for reviewing is impossible to maintain, he suggests that journalists are caught in a

binary of art versus commercialism (p.269) and promote an artist as authentic to allow them

to be seen as part of a music community rather than part of the music industry. Suggesting

that the role of the music journalist is to sell more copies of their publication (p.272), Stratton

understands the usefulness of the concept as the means by which journalists create

relationships with particular readerships. This account therefore provides an understanding that music journalism will employ themes associated with the discourse of popular music as way of the maintaining the relationship between the music press and its readers.

Frith (1983) too is interested in the relationship between the music press and its readers and

to the way the former provides a medium for ‘making meaning’ for the latter. Using an

historical methodology, he notes changes in the approaches used by the UK music press since

its inception in the early 1900s until the 1970s. He argues that for the most of the 1960s, the

UK music press, and in particular Melody Maker and the New Musical Express (NME), were reflections of popular taste, textually demonstrated not only by the acts that were covered, but also by being the first medium to publish the top 40 music/singles charts. A change occurred in the late 1960s, he argues, as an approach that could be found in the ‘underground press’ in the US and in the country’s most popular music title, Rolling Stone, began to influence

writers in the UK. This approach reflected a change in the discourse of popular music more

generally, a change that contextualised music in paradigms other than popularity and often found texts being valued for their expression of a wider cultural politics which had the effect of treating music as a “serious…cultural form” (p.169). He concludes by noting that music journalism at the end of the 1970s is represented by the approaches to be found in the NME and Melody Maker that work to teach readers how to “use” their music through the ideologies of “rock as art” and “rock as community” (p.177). In these configurations, authenticity is used as part of an ideological framework to create aesthetic judgements in the former and a sense of exclusivity in the latter. But both of these ideological frameworks serve as meaning- making exercises that are central to the relationship between music journalism and its readers.

While the above authors work mostly with examples of music titles from the UK, Jones

(1992, see also Jones and Featherly 2002), in exploring the practices of US music journalists,

concurs with the critical threads already noted. Exploring the work of some of the better

known practitioners of the late 1960s and early 1970s, such as Lester Bangs and Robert

Christgau, he argues that the three themes of race, authenticity and mass culture were central

to music journalism in this period. Like Frith, he notes the influence of the US ‘underground

press’ in this process – for he argues it was in this medium that these themes were established

before they made their way into journalism to be found in titles such as the Village Voice and

Rolling Stone. He argues that these themes did not necessarily arise out of the music itself,

though the political content of certain texts from the late 1960s may have instigated such a

move. Rather, these themes resulted from an interplay between the journalists’ own

ideologies, the changing nature of musical form (from pop music to ‘new folk’) and wider

social concerns such as the civil rights movements and fears over the commodification of

culture. Jones’ contribution to understanding the discourse of music journalism is one that

situates it as resulting from both authorial intention and wider cultural/socio-political shifts.

Jones work, along with that of Frith’s (1983) suggests that in the US and the UK during this

period, there was a commonality of approaches in the discourse of music journalism.

Jones (1995) continues to locate the themes he had identified earlier (1992) in an article that looks at the death of musician Kurt Cobain. Largely locating his analysis in publications that are not strictly music titles (i.e. New York Times, Washington Post etc) the author notes how journalists tend to acknowledge a discourse of music journalism that was established by those writing for music titles in previous decades. These include employing the criterion of race, authenticity and commentary on mass culture, which the author suggests were not entirely suited to the event but nevertheless stand as an example of the limited framework involved in discussing the wider cultural impact of popular music and its performers. Overall he argues that the coverage of Cobain’s death seems to reflect a cynicism about the relationship between “popular music, commerce and the media” (p.115) and that the journalism he is referring to may be better understood as not always reflecting the discourse of the music press, but rather “journalism that incorporates public discourse” (p.116). This argument suggests that themes that have been noted as contributing to the historical discourse of music journalism find a place in contemporary public discourse that, in turn (again), become common frameworks for discussing popular music in media outside the established consumer music press.

Using the same case study, Nehring (1997) argues that it may be possible to charge music journalists with the “assisted suicide” of Kurt Cobain (p.93). The author recounts that Cobain committed suicide (according to his ‘suicide note’) over his inability to deal with fame and success while retaining his ‘punk roots’ and the associated ideology. Nehring argues that the performer’s mental health was not helped by music journalists continually critiquing the usefulness of concepts such as authenticity by referring to Cobain’s and Nirvana’s enormous success. Music journalists in Nehring’s account were using the band as a case study to claim that there is/was no such thing as authentic anger and displacement, as emotion, taste and

deviance in popular music are all packaged by the music industry (p.81). Indeed what

Nehring is noting here is how the discourses of popular music are those that are not only employed by journalists and consumers, but also by the music industry itself. But this self- reflexive approach noted here also signals a change in the established discourse of music

journalism. This change is one that acknowledges how music journalism is a service that is

now less interested in relying on the notion of authenticity and is one more interested in

embracing a wider contextual approach.

Postmodernism and Consumer Culture

Although not explicitly stated, McRobbie’s (1989b) observations regarding music journalism

traces a shift from the reliance on authenticity to one of a more postmodern approach. Like

the work that came before, McRobbie argues that music journalism became more ‘serious’ in

the early 1970s as a result of the social and political climate in which it operated. Like Frith

(1983) she too notes how the US underground press had introduced a form of journalistic

critique before the UK music press came to adopt the same strategy. By the early 1980s, she

argues that music journalists became interested in exploring the culture in which music was

consumed which, in turn, led to practitioners wanting to explore the idea of consumption

itself. The emergence of new publications such as The Face provided this opportunity as

titles such as these were interested in lifestyle and trends of which music was an integral part.

Yet, frustrated by the lack of copy in these often image-heavy texts, many journalists either

returned to music press titles or went on to other more ‘serious’ publications such as the New

Statesman or broadsheet newspapers where they continued to explore music in a broader

context. McRobbie’s work here provides a framework whereby modern music journalism is that which employs a framework of authenticity and imparts a sense of one way

communication where journalists ‘teach’ their readers the correct meaning of performers and

texts. Postmodern music journalism is that which goes beyond the text (either performer or

song) itself and seeks to explore music in a wider context that may include frameworks such

as consumption, that were until this point not explicit in the discourse of popular music fashioned, in part, by music journalism.

McRobbie’s observations had also been made by Harley and Botsman (1982) in their earlier

work but without the employment of a similar terminology. Employing a more theoretical

approach, they argue that music journalists such as Ian Penman and Paul Morley in the early

1980s moved from looking specifically at musical texts to look at the “site at which an

[musical] object is established, described and read” (p.256). These journalists and their work

in Melody Maker introduced a new way of making meaning for readers by acknowledging, for example, sites of reception (television, magazines), image (of record sleeves and performers themselves) and how songs were situated in what was occurring on a more macro scale in the world of music. Analysis of this kind often involved the employment of academic language, especially semiotics and structuralism, and often contributed to an “overlap” of journalistic and academic endeavours (McRobbie, p.xv). Although these observations are unlike those features attributed to postmodern texts in, for example, cinema or television (see for example Denzin 1991, Kaplan 1987), Harley and Botsman’s analysis, like McRobbie’s observations, signal a change in journalistic framing. This change challenges the reliance on authenticity as the means by which meaning is created in the relationship between music journalists and their readers.

It is this challenge to the relationship of authenticity within the discourse of popular music that Nehring (1997) claims signifies a postmodern approach in music journalism that, in turn, contributed to the death of Kurt Cobain. A strong reaction to the change in critical framing is also apparent in Sloop’s (1999) analysis when he argues that music journalism (in the US) is encouraging its readers to indulge in a celebration of “cynical selfreflectiveness [sic] and musical commodification” (p.53). He demonstrates this assertion by considering the reunion tours of both Kiss and the Sex Pistols. Suggesting that Kiss represent an inauthentic version of popular music, the author argues that music journalists employ postmodern theory to find a way to value the highly commercial, homophobic and misogynistic values of the show by

“intellectualising” it (p.55). Sloop argues that the Sex Pistols in comparison were authentic, however the notion that they have now ‘sold out’ by reforming and touring is absent in journalistic critique that, in a similar way to the Kiss show, works towards celebrating the spectacle of the event. He concludes that music journalists are ‘teaching’ music fans to consume without values and that practitioners need to reconsider how they come to frame their interpretations so that the values contained in criticism become more obvious for music journalism’s readers.

The work of Sloop stands in opposition to that of McRobbie and Harley and Botsman in two ways. Firstly, it has no place for a consideration of why music journalists are

“intellectualising” what are explicitly commercial endeavours. In McRobbie’s and Harley and Botsman’s analysis this would be explained via an interest in practices that are occurring outside the pages of the music press. For McRobbie’s practitioners this was an interest in wider consumption patterns, whilst Harley and Botsman suggest journalists became interested in reading meaning outside the text itself. Secondly, in Sloop’s account, the audience is rendered passive and the notion of authenticity contributes to criteria that help

readers learn the correct interpretative framework. Yet as Pattie (1999) has argued,

authenticity in popular music often resides with the interpretation of the audience who are equally involved in patrolling the discourse of popular music. Using a case study of the band

Oasis, Pattie argues it was the audience, rather than music journalists, who came to evaluate the band’s performances as authentic or otherwise. Authenticity in Pattie’s analysis is something that moves from artist to artist on a regular basis and that these evaluations say more about the climate in which popular music operates than a set of evaluative criteria.

Pattie’s contribution here recognises the influential role of the audience and, like Jones

(1995), paints a complex picture that involves a discursive flow that is originally promoted by the music press, negotiated by the audience and then fed back into music journalism approaches. This contribution, along with the observations made by McRobbie and Harley and Botsman, suggest that it is in the negotiation between journalistic intent and wider assumptions about the audience for popular music that influences the construction of content in the music press.

The shift from authenticity to a wider contextual approach, from modern to postmodern

journalism, is one that is important for this thesis. This particular shift is not notable in the

nostalgic observations of the music press, yet it does impart why music journalism is a

different service to what it was before. What will become apparent in this thesis is that

publications that seek to act as arbiters of taste (i.e. the NME) have a limited appeal in the

contemporary media landscape while those whose approaches are markedly different to

modern music journalism seem to embrace new readerships. If the latter approach of music

journalism is one that can be termed postmodern, then its emergence not only recognises the limited relevance of authenticity but also the influence of music and other media on the

construction of content in the music press.

The Influence of Music and other Media

The above analysis by Pattie is not centrally concerned with music journalism or the music

press, yet it does offer the means to understand how outside influences contribute to changes

in the frameworks of music journalism and the content of the music press. Usually, in work

that looks more generally at the music press, this sense is only implicit in accounts that offer

historical analysis as a means of charting not only the changing approaches of various music

titles, but also the launch and closure of these publications. Frith’s (1983) work that looks at

meaning-making in music journalism, offers an historical account that finishes at the end of

the 1970s and imparts the view that the music press in this period were very much in the

business of ‘teaching’ their audience the correct way to read texts. Comparatively, Brown’s

(1981) analysis of the Australian music press from the mid 1960s until the beginning of the

1980s offers little in the way of critique yet provides a rich historical ‘snapshot’ that has yet

to be updated in any major way. Two important points arise from Brown’s work however.

Firstly, the author argues that the Australian music media was largely influenced by UK

music titles such as the NME and Melody Maker suggesting the possibility of a comparative analysis with work such as Frith’s. Secondly, by acknowledging the rise of an Australian music scene in the 1970s, she argues that it was this boom in cultural production that resulted in the number of publications available in the country at the time. With the latter point,

Brown demonstrates one of the ways of understanding the form and the viability of the music press is to acknowledge the quantity and type of music being produced in the period of analysis.

This, too, is a suggestion that frames the argument of Toynbee (1993), who looks at generic

change in British pop and rock in relation to the music press. Charting similar thematic

observations as other writers, Toynbee argues that the period of ‘new pop’ (the early 1980s)

was significant for reinforcing the “tight relationship between identity, journalism and genre”

(p.291). Smash Hits was launched in 1978 and, although largely focusing on pop rather than

rock music, created an environment in which titles such as the NME and Melody Maker gave

up trying to engage with the new pop movement and returned to “their traditional territory of

rock [and] championing the marginal” (p.292). By the late 1980s “young people’s reading

about and listening to popular music was organised along much more rigid generic-discursive

lines” (ibid) and the music press in the UK becomes organised in a similar manner. He

suggests that the contemporary music press “acts less as bridge between artists and

audiences” and instead performs a role of a “critical technology, a means of knowing what

music is like” (p.299). How this role is performed will be defined by the genre-discursive

boundaries of the title and the readerships hailed by those specific boundaries.

A similar argument is made by Gudmundsson, Lindberg, Michelsen and Weisethaunet (2002)

in their historical analysis of music journalism and the music press in the UK between 1960 and 1990. The authors identify three influential turning points, with the first being the ideological influence of US approach noted above by authors such as Frith (1983) and

McRobbie (1987b). Echoing the work of Toynbee, they argue that the shift from punk to new

pop and the launch of Smash Hits is the second critical turning point as it instigated a new

approach to writing about music that did not seek out authentic signifiers and often celebrated

consumption in the analysis of lifestyle and leisure. Their final turning point is related to Toynbee’s argument in that they suggest that a fragmentation of musical taste has resulted in music press titles being addressed to very different kinds of readers. Leaving aside a consideration of genre and focusing on the different critical approaches apparent in UK music journalism, they argue that there now exists “consumer-oriented criticism aimed at record buyers, and elitist criticism aimed at well-educated connoisseurs of underground, alternative or avant-garde musics” (p.56-57). The authors contend that the second type of music journalism is not to be found in any of the UK consumer music press titles, rather, it appears in certain daily newspapers, periodicals such as the New Statesman and “specialist” (p.58) publications like the Wire. This work argues that it is no longer possible to speak of a singular performance of music journalism as their analysis demonstrates how different themes and approaches can be found amongst competing titles and different media outlets.

The analyses presented above are overwhelmingly concerned with UK and the US music journalism, but smaller markets for this service have also attempted to chart the changing themes that have influenced the performance of music journalism. Coupe (1998a, 1998b), for example, is a musical historian who wrote a brief history of the music press as a companion piece for an exhibition on Australian music entitled Real Wild Child. He begins by looking at the history of Go-Set which he calls the oldest example of an Australian music magazine.

Noting its popularity following its launch in 1966, Coupe argues that Go-Set had much in common with UK titles such as Melody Maker and the NME in that it was focused on popular artists of the period with very little critical insight. “A product of the times” (1998a, np.), Go-

Set folded in 1975 but, according to Coupe’s data, other titles were being published that seem to recognise some of the thematic shifts the authors cited above had noted in both the US and the UK. RAM, Juke, an Australian version of Rolling Stone as well as a series of underground publications were all being published in the early 1970s with varying degrees of success.

However, by 1975 the underground press had disappeared and the remaining titles, according to the author, returned to a “pure pop-music-industry focus with which it had started” (1998b, np). Although his analysis stops short of critiquing why Australia has such a limited music press today, he importantly cites the street press (see Chapter Five) as one of the reasons. In this analysis, it is the competition presented by other media that forms the structure of the music press in Australia.

Forde (2001, 2003), too, argues that it is the presence of other media that influences the structure of the music press in the UK, and provides a more detailed analysis with his findings. He argues that as the music press market in the UK becomes increasingly overcrowded, publishers of these titles (in particular EMAP and IPC Media) have removed

“personality” from music journalism in favour of enforcing a brand identity. The personality to which Forde refers is the type of journalism typified in the modern form of music journalism explored above. He argues that it was often the case that it was the writers, rather than what they were writing about, that connected readers with certain titles of the music press. The contemporary music press, however, is interested in promoting the brand of the title rather than the writers. While Forde doesn’t use the term, his observations recall those associated with a move to a ‘new economy’ (see Chapter Three) that, in this example, find publishers wanting to extend the brand into new media forms such as television and digital radio to allow a maximum return from a niche market. This marketing approach to music journalism is not helped by the increased role of public relations in the music industry whose reluctance to grant access to their clients is resulting in music journalism being a series of short articles and less in-depth discussion. As a result, Forde argues that music press titles in the UK are notable for their similarity rather than their difference and it is this situation that finds readers behaving in a “promiscuous” fashion, as they “graze” across titles without any necessary affiliation (p.29).

The Commonality in Approaches to Music Journalism

The most common argument that can be drawn from the above analysis is that the

performance of music journalism is one that is continually evolving. The authors have noted

how critical frameworks have shifted and how these shifts can be attributed to changes in the

discourse of popular music which reflect shifts in the wider social/cultural climate, emerging

genres of music and increased competition in the markets for the music press. Several

distinctive points emerge:

1. There has been a shift from a modern to a postmodern performance of music

journalism. This is characterised by, for example, the move from authenticity to

frameworks that consider that culture in which the consumption of popular music

takes place.

2. There has been an influence of organisational structures on the performance of UK

music journalism.

3. Music journalism’s relationship with its readers is one that is based upon a generic-

discursive model that finds critical frameworks informed by the consumption of

particular genres of popular music.

4. Music journalism that appears outside the established consumer music press is

influenced by, and, influences the performance of music journalism.

It is these frameworks of analysis that structure the following three sections of the thesis.

Section One explores the reasons for the shift from a modern to a postmodern form of music journalism as well as examining the structures of music press publishing in the UK and

Australia. Section Two will critique the usefulness of the generic-discursive model by undertaking a case study approach in both the UK and Australia. The final section will address the emergence of journalism about music outside of the established consumer music press to understand how these may contribute to the evolution of the critical frameworks associated with music journalism.

The list of assumptions outlined in this chapter provide a rich understanding of the UK music press and the journalism contained within its pages as well as the influence of US music journalism discourse on its performance. While a dialogue between these nations is apparent, what is not obvious is whether these influences and dialogues might be recognisable elsewhere. Rather than accept a transnational model of music journalism, the following chapter aims to explore the history of music journalism in more detail, and includes a survey of Australian music titles and music journalism. The aim is to further enhance those observations made by previous researchers in the field, and to gather a greater understanding of what factors have contributed to the changing critical frameworks apparent in the performance of music journalism.

SECTION ONE

Historical and Industrial Overview Chapter Two

Looking Back: Similarities and Differences in the Histories of Music Journalism

The previous chapter’s review of academic research demonstrated that some histories of music journalism are better mapped than others. Researchers based in the US and the UK have provided a rich source of material that lends itself to charting a change in music journalism in both of these countries. The implications of this research suggest that there are transnational similarities in the themes and approaches that make up the discourse of music journalism and that this similarity is often a result of influences travelling from one country to another. This chapter seeks to ask whether this influential flow is apparent in other markets and, if so, were the results similar to those posed by the authors reviewed in the previous chapter? While research into music journalism is one that is concerned with noting change, what follows aims to uncover a deeper understanding of why these changes have occurred.

This will include mapping any changes in the critical frameworks as well as the consumption of popular music. This will provide a way of understanding why certain performances of music journalism and particular music titles have survived while others have not.

Although reference will be made to both UK and, to a lesser extent US music journalism, a majority of the analysis that follows looks at the history of the Australian music press and music journalism. While this analysis will contribute to research undertaken in this country it is also an investigation of what factors have lead to the various performances of music journalism. As noted in the previous chapter, the work that has researched the market has done so without the benefit of the academic frameworks employed by other researchers in the field. Accordingly, what follows in an examination of this market that employs these

frameworks to provide an opportunity to understand whether, historically, the performance of

music journalism is one that is similar in different national contexts. Similarities and

differences will be noted as a means of working towards a framework that might be

employed in Section Two of the thesis as a way of examining particular performances of UK

and Australian music journalism.

Before the Influence of the US Underground Press

In an historical study that considers the rise of popular music in the UK, Lee (1970) works

towards uncovering the origins of music journalism. He argues that there was a shift in the

way music was performed in the late 1600s when musical concerts were organised by

entrepreneurs and held in public spaces such as taverns (p.57). He notes that prior to this

time, performed music was often the reserve of the upper class, with the majority of popular

music being consumed within the home by way of private performance or recital. Although

these early performances were affordable to a relatively small percentage of the population,

Lee argues that “the beginnings of a middle-class musical life had been created” (p.58). As

this shift from private to public performance continues to grow so does a shift from private to

public discourse as magazines such as Tattler and Spectator begin to include music criticism in their content (ibid). Rather than specifically being understood as music publications, these titles have instead been noted as signifying the emergence of the “public critic” (Carter 1999, p.70). Yet music journalism was not only to be found in publications of this nature. As

Demuth (1971) notes, public critics interested in writing about music would soon be found in newspapers such as The Times and the Morning Post.

Frith (1983), in his historical mapping of the UK music press, claims it was the increasing

visibility of a jazz scene, rather than the audience numbers drawn to the genre, that led to the

launch of the first publication in the world dedicated to popular music. Though Demuth

(1971) has mapped how titles such as Musical Times, Harmonican and Musical History were

publications that concentrated on skills required for musical performance, Melody Maker’s content was notable for its difference. Launched in 1926, Melody Maker was understood as being a “trade paper for the growing number of jazz and dance-band musicians” (Frith, p.166). Published by Laurence Wright who, in the first instance, only issued the first run to the 7000 members of his Orchestral Club (Sexton 2001, p.10) the title was intended for performers and those interested in the jazz scene. However, this conceptualisation of itself as a trade paper would change as the society in which it was published itself came to change.

Lee (1970) notes how around the time of the launch of Melody Maker the working week in the UK fell from 55hours per week to 48 (p.296) effectively freeing-up the amount of time available for leisure activities. In addition, a national broadcaster, the BBC, was launched, which participated in the dissemination of jazz and other forms of popular music (ibid). On the domestic front, the arrival of the gramophone impacted on the ways popular music could now be enjoyed. Whereas the dominance of sheet music had reflected the place of performance in the consumption of the popular music, the gramophone ushered in a new era of listening where purchasing and owning favoured pieces of music complemented viewing performances. Here, a combination of technological and societal changes allowed greater indulgence in music as a leisure pursuit, that is, a change in the discourses that informed popular music consumption. This change was recognised within Melody Maker which changed its address shortly after its initial launch to be understood as a “consumer’s paper too” (Frith 1983, p.166).

Although first published six years later (1932), The Australian Music Maker and Dance Band

News (later changing its name to Music Maker) can be understood to be Melody Maker’s

Australian contemporary. Music Maker is a publication that has not been covered by any of

the authors interested in recounting Australia’s popular music press. However, Johnson

(1998) makes mention of the title in his analysis of early Australian jazz journals. Noting

why he does not devote any of his analysis to the title, he says Music Maker’s “orientation at any moment was to the forms that dominated the popular music industry” (p.31). What

Johnson is arguing here is that in its earliest incarnation the title was not strictly a jazz title as

it was interested in the popular genres that dominated the period such as brass bands,

big/dance bands, swing as well as jazz. Rather, given Johnson’s definition of the title, it is

possible to nominate Music Maker as the first Australian publication dedicated to contemporary popular music. Although by the mid-1960s the title had become more specialised in sharp contrast to the music publications that were favouring pop genres, in its earliest form, the title shared some commonality with Melody Maker which was also interested in covering the popular genres of the period following on from its initial construction as a trade paper.

An analysis of the news and reviews of a 1940 edition of Music Maker offers an insight into

how the relationship between the reader and writer was maintained in the pre-authenticity era of music journalism. Content of the news section for the edition include “‘That’s Right’ is

Alright” a brief review of a concert film featuring American band leader Kay Kyser; “Big

Radio Ban on Records” which reports on a number of records deemed too offensive to receive radio play; the self explanatory “New Conductor at State Theatre” and short review pieces under the titles “Al Elliot at Ice Palais” and “Davidson & Freeman Play on Troc

Bandstand” (Music Maker 1940, pp.4-7). A sample from the latter article shows a style that is

indicative of the writing accompanying these pieces:

Both bands were in top form and gave dancers and fans alike a genuine thrill with their pulsating rhythms. Jim Davidson used his full personnel, which we give here for the benefit of those readers who are not au fait with his line-up… (1940, p.5)

The descriptive quality of the writing here is one that is common throughout the news section

of Music Maker at this point and suggests a relationship between reader and writer that is based on observation rather than explicit critique. Yet it is important to note that this feature is common to most news columns found in contemporary Australian and UK music titles.

Strong opinionated pieces can usually be found in the reviews section of these titles, and

Music Maker in 1940 was no exception.

Those who have analysed the music press in the UK in the late 1960s argued that authenticity was an obvious theme apparent in music journalism’s relationship with its readers. Harley and Botsman (1982) and Stratton (1983), for example, it is apparent in the setting up certain

texts and performers in opposition to the mainstream music and cultural practices as well as

the music industry. These authors argue that awarding a text the status of authentic was a

means of making music meaningful – a critical criteria – as well as being a way of

establishing a community of readers with like-minded criteria in their attempts to create a

knowing community. Critical criterion that create a community of readers are also apparent

in Music Maker in the 1940s, and if this is representative of the theme of authenticity, then it

is one that is different to those approaches noted by other authors. For example, an

anonymous writer in reviewing a record by the Emilio Caered Trio writes: the guitar sticks too closely to the four in a bar – but they don’t contrast sufficiently with each other, and, furthermore, the last movement is played in the top register by both, with the result that the music thins away instead of building up (Turntable Talk 1940, p.22).

This review of John Kirby and his Orchestra takes a slightly different approach:

The combination consists of piano, bass, drums, alt and tenor saxes and trumpets. Their teamwork is stupendous and their individual ‘take-off’ solos are as good. (By the way, did you hear Jim Davidson’s crack about the girl who was so dumb she thought a ‘take-off man’ was a male strip artist) (ibid).

Although infused with slightly different methods, the commonality in these reviews is an attention to the musical detail. Given that this was written in 1940 it suggests musical knowledge was part of the discourse of popular music and is still something that was central to the relationship between music journalists and their readers. Readers of this period of music journalism were imagined as being united by their appreciation of composition, musicianship and the skills associated with performance. This is Music Maker’s display of authenticity – one that is informed by the still prominent sale of sheet music connoting a different approach to ‘owning’ and consuming music. Describing this as an example of authenticity relies on acknowledging that the descriptive nature of the reviews here is one that goes beyond mere observation and displays signs of criteria in judging a text’s worth.

Anti-hegemonic signifiers are not of interest to this title, but musical skill is. If musical skill and musical knowledge is something that is apparent in the discourse of popular music during this time, then its influence is one that is apparent in the discourse of music journalism displayed by Music Maker that in turn provides the means of maintaining a relationship between the readers and the writers of the title.

The importance of music knowledge in the maintenance of the relationship between Music

Maker and its readers is revealed in a ‘letter to the editor’ published in the same edition. Launching an attack on Anna Thetic’s feature article concerning Jim Davidson, Mr Allan

Currie writes:

In the first place, it is to be deplored that such a female should be allowed to commit such trash – such utter piffle…By the bye, Anna Thetic, do you really know what a rim-shot is, or did you merely read the expression in a book and decide to use it?...I ask you, Mr Editor, is that the sort of stuff to dish out to conscientious swing fans? (Sez You 1940)

The sort of ‘stuff’ that the reader is demanding here is the accurate circulation of musical

knowledge that maintains the relationship between the music journalists and the readers of

Music Maker. This is knowledge that counts as authentic in the consumption of popular music and, in turn, it binds this relationship. Whereas scholarly analyses of music journalism

have argued that authenticity is an important concept from the late 1960s in the US and UK,

examples such as these suggest that there was a sense of authentic criteria that existed prior to

this time, although it was not one necessarily influenced by political and/or civil concerns.

The process of music journalism as demonstrated by these excerpts from Music Maker reveals authentic knowledge is one based on evaluative criteria (usually associated with performance and knowledge of musical performance) that creates and maintains the relationship between music journalists and their readers.

A readership relationship that was maintained by evaluative criteria made the emergence of rock and roll difficult for the established music press. Frith argued that both Melody Maker and New Musical Express (NME), launched in 1952, were so wary of this new genre that they understood it to be in opposition to their readers’ values (p.166). Chambers (1985), in his history of British popular music, provides more evidence of this apprehension within these titles arguing that Melody Maker, “began a campaign to silence rock ‘n’ roll” (pp.19-20). In

1956, Melody Maker published an article considering this new genre and suggested:

Viewed as a social phenomenon, the current craze for Rock-and-Roll material is one of the most terrifying things to have happened to popular music. The Rock-and-Roll technique, instrumentally and vocally, is the antithesis of all that jazz has been striving for over the years – in other words, good taste and musical integrity (Race, quoted in Chambers, p.19).

Certainly this attitude was not confined to the music press as Cloonan (2002) demonstrates in

his analysis of the moral panic generated in the UK newspapers that greeted rock and roll’s

introduction to the UK. Newspapers may have been concerned with the social aspect of this

new genre, but the above quote from Melody Maker seems to suggest it was a technical (i.e.

musical) concern. Yet as Chambers contends, rock and roll as a genre was a “brief irruption”

(p.38) on the British music scene and that local acts such as Tommy Steel and Cliff Richard took some of the basic premises of the genre to “smarten up rock ‘n’ roll” (p.39). Chambers suggests these artists were representative of a new “teenage sound” (p.39) for British pop that in turn expands the landscape of musical production during this period.

Although Music Maker does not display the same signs of Melody Maker in its opposition to

rock and roll, it does suggest a title that is concerned with carrying on the generic tradition

with which it began. For example, the cover of an edition from June, 1957 (see Figure 1)

makes no mention of rock and roll, nor the ‘pop’ music Chambers (above) argues was

emanating from the UK at the time. The couple featured on the cover are the stars of a new

television series that featured the pair performing “15 minutes of piano and song”. Only the

appearance of actor and pop artist Jerry Lewis in the news section of this issue seems to

acknowledge the presence of rock and roll without disrupting the magazine’s preferred canon Figure 1

Music Maker

Music Maker – Cover, June 1957 of genres. Other news stories here, for example, concern Trumpet player Lee Castle, US

Trombonist Jay Jay, Frank Sinatra and a piece on the forthcoming release of two volumes of

piano jazz (Music Maker 1957). In the face of rock and roll Music Maker maintains its

preference for particular styles of music. It is at this time that Music Maker begins to reposition itself as more of a specialist title dealing with genres that would soon become marginal to the concerns to more popular examples of the Australian music press.

Frith (1983) notes that towards the late 1950s a new set of titles were being published in the

US that were directly aimed at a new category of readers – teenagers (p.167). These

publications he argues,

provided no perspective on the music they covered; they had no developed critical position (except that what was popular must be good); they showed no curiosity about where records came from and where they went (ibid).

As pop music, or as Chambers put it, the “smartened up version of rock and roll” continued

to find wider audiences, titles such as these presented a challenge to the monopoly of music

journalism reserved for titles such as Melody Maker or Music Maker. In Australia, such a title

was Teenage Topics, a magazine that covered the most popular artists of the day in the way

noted above by Frith. In a shift away from the criteria of authenticity and/or musical

knowledge underscoring the reviewing process in Music Maker a definite shift in approach is

noticeable in Teenage Topics. Rather than referring to performance or skill, Col Joye’s debut

album is described as “one LP which every Teenager will want to have in their collection”

(Costin 1959). Additionally, references to the “Hit Parade” in all of the reviews confirm

Frith’s suggestion that critique in titles such as these was measured against the artist’s

popularity. Titles such as Teenage Topics and Teens Today had a short publishing life in Australia, but this was less to do with their version of music journalism than it was to do with

new media products emerging on the market. Nevertheless, the criteria they promoted which

found evaluation influenced by popularity was one that was to become common in the period

that leads up to the time noted for the US ideological influence on music journalism.

In his historical analysis of Melody Maker and the NME, Frith (1983) notes how, by the early

1960s, both titles had changed their approach to content and were firmly entrenched in

teenage culture and music that was continuing the pop/rock ‘n’ roll tradition. While they also continued to cover jazz, blues and country and western via smaller columns within their pages, the main musical focus was unlike that of the previous decade, and this prepared them both for what was to be the driving force of their content for the coming years – The Beatles.

In 1964, as a result of ‘Beatlemania’, “the British music papers had reached unprecedented circulation heights [with the] NME…selling nearly 300,000 copies per week” (p.167) on the back of this musical and cultural phenomenon. Analysing the same texts, Gudmundsson et al

(2002) argue that “the music press was serving the record industry, going for what sold or might sell to teenagers” (p.41) confirming a trend that began outside of the established music press in teenage titles such as Teenage Topics. Yet, in Australia, Music Maker demonstrated signs that it was not interested in this approach and continued its relationship with its audience based on particular genres that rarely included pop/rock, and imbued this relationship with aspects of performance and skill. But Australia too, like the UK, was developing a mass teenage audience for popular music that were to influence the discourses associated with popular music in ways that were also apparent overseas. In Australia, this audience would be served by a new publication that displayed many of the qualities attributed to the UK music press at the time.

The idea that the mid-1960s is notable for a lack of critical music journalism is demonstrated

by what Coupe (1998a) has called “Australia’s most famous music paper” (np, see also Kent

2002). Go-Set (see Figure 2) was launched in 1966 by Phillip Fraser, himself a teenager, and

the “title was derived from the catchwords of the day: go-go and jet-set” (ibid). Go-Set was

unashamedly concerned with the ‘pop’ scene (defined via the sales charts) and rarely, if ever,

attempted to discuss unknown acts. Importantly, it announced its intended readership on its

masthead. Calling itself ‘The Teens & Twenties Newspaper’ the title heralded a shift in the

way music media in Australia, at this point defined by Music Maker, could imagine their audience. It should be noted however that it was not totally ignorant of other genres of music as columns on jazz, folk and country and western suggest. But unlike its other local counterpart, Go-Set was not interested in making judgments about performances or skills apparent in texts and/or the artists. Go-Set was about pop music, which was enjoying huge popularity around the world. Australia’s newest music title was a hedonistic celebration of teenage and music culture that did not resort to creating oppositions as a means of informing meaning in the way that would become more apparent in the following years. Indeed, meaning here was built on a relationship that was less about judgment than it was about celebration.

An example of this construction is apparent in a feature entitled “The Beatles vs. The

Monkees” (1967, pp.12-13). Within the article, subheadings indicate a framework of meaning

that indicates why the shift to a more political approach in the years to come would be

considered a “turning point” for music journalism (Gudmundsson et al 2002). ‘History’,

‘Hits’, ‘Types of Music’, ‘Popularity’ and ‘Future’ are headings that structure the feature Figure 2

Go-Set

Go-Set, Cover, February 7, 1968 allowing a sense of impartibility that seems to be the dominant from of journalism for this

title. Certainly absent in this feature is any consideration of musical skill or how either band

fits into wider music movements, a feature that would be become more ingrained in the practice in years to come. In this feature, neither band emerge victorious. Instead, the content

stands as a celebration rather than a critique of two of the era’s most popular musical acts. As

Harley and Botsman (1983) note, this was a period where the dominant discourse that

accompanied music was one of entertainment (p.234) and Go-Set suggests this was as equally

applicable to fans and journalists in Australia as it was in the UK.

McRobbie (1989b) notes how music reviews in the UK music press at this time were limited to a mere few lines (p.xii) concurring with the argument that music was being understood as entertainment rather than critically analysed. Certainly this is apparent in Go-Set who, in

1967, had yet to establish a regular LP/album review section and instead had a column entitled ‘Disc Review’ which dealt exclusively with the most prominent form of music consumption at this point for music fans – the single/ ‘45’. For Go-Set during this period, album reviews were limited to brief feature articles that would only cover the more notable artists of the period, like the Monkees, the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. In these feature reviews, the limitations of critique were becoming apparent as popular music journalists who had spent much time reviewing singles in a few lines were now faced with the increasing sales and growing importance of the album in music culture. Descriptive approaches seem to be the means by which journalists overcame this problem. For example, an excerpt from a review of the Rolling Stones ‘Satanic Majesties Request’ LP reads:

As I said, there is a sameness about it all. Despite the mass of weird effects and originality….Sid 2 [sic] – ‘backside’ – starts with a crowd scene, then tinkles into ‘She’s a Rainbow’, which then ends with a couple of dongs from Big Ben, and fades into ‘The Lantern’ (Brett 1969, p.8).

This excerpt demonstrates a writer coming to grips with the process of making meaning from

the review process. Apart from the descriptive features, the LP is largely contrasted to the

Beatles’ ‘Sgt Pepper’ album suggesting comparisons to other major albums of the period (and other major selling artists) was one of the few possibilities for making sense of the relevance of musical products. This problem was now being recognised by the UK music press who believed that “popularity and sales numbers no longer were decisive factors for critical acclaim” (Gudmundsson et al 2002, p.48). The relationship between readers and journalists that was currently based on popularity was about to reviewed, and this time it was instigated by the practitioners.

The problems apparent in the reviewing process, as demonstrated above, are understood to

have caused UK music journalists to reassess their approach in line with the changing nature

and formats of popular music. Cloonan’s (2002) investigation of music journalism in the UK news press shows that while the Beatles’ success originally found the band being discussed in

a discourse of moral panic, eventually their albums became objects of analysis in the arts

sections of papers such as The Times. Chambers (1985) understands this particular period as one where “the professional ‘rock critic’ appeared to legitimate the whole affair” (p.84) creating a binary between what the UK music press were doing and what journalists in the

arts pages of the national press were undertaking. Frith (1983) argues this is the point where

music journalists in the NME and Melody Maker mirror “an attempt from the rock world to

develop an account of…music as art” as practitioners recognised that their “pop approach

was inadequate” (p.168).

This reassessment coincides with changes occurring outside the pages of the music press that

led to new ways of discussing popular music. Harley and Botsman (1982) note how, during

the latter part of the 1960s:

social questions and origins start creeping in to commentaries about bands and music….[and] The Times They Are a Changing becomes an emblem for a generation and the ‘song with a message’ became an established part of popular music culture (p.235).

Artists such as Bob Dylan, referred to above, heralded a new movement within popular music where lyrical content and emotion signified a new folk movement. For followers of this movement, new folk was the antithesis of what was achieving large-scale success in popular music as it was seen as being connected with the politics and issues central to the epoch. War, civil rights, world peace and economic instability were all themes recognisable in the music that was at first associated with the new folk genre. The connection between politics and music, as described by Harley and Botsman, had a visual component in the form of the hippie subculture that attempted to embrace a more communal and equitable approach to life influenced by the music and the social unrest of the time. Significant festivals such as

Woodstock, held in 1969, embraced the approaches promoted by the hippies and worked towards creating an ideology of community through music (Shuker 1994, p.209). This ideology is understood as cementing the concept of authenticity in the discourse of popular music that then begins to be appropriated into the critical frameworks of music journalism.

As the production of music continues to escalate during this period, certain products and texts begin to be understood by certain music journalists as being more than the sum of their parts.

Particular musical texts were understood as promoting political, social and cultural change and it was this understanding that would create a new approach in the establishment and

maintenance of a relationship between music journalists and their readers.

Authenticity and Music Journalism: A Global Shift?

Harley and Botsman (1981), Frith (1983), McRobbie (1989b) and Gudmundsson et al (2002)

all argue that the approaches of US music journalism during the late 1960s would strongly

influence the approaches undertaken by UK journalists. Jones (1992), in reviewing the more

explicit themes apparent in US music journalism during this period, notes that, at first, critics

addressed themes that were apparent within songs associated with counter cultural

movements, before eventually discussing these issues without prompting from lyrics (p.90)

These moves had yet to take hold in either the UK or Australian music press, but it was

apparent in the style of music journalism that was arising in the US largely through “hip parts

of the established press” (Gudmundsson et al 2002, p.51) such as the New York title, the

Village Voice. Simultaneously an underground or “specialist press” (Frith 1983, p.167, Flippo

1974) was emerging represented by the likes of Crawdaddy, Mojo-Navigator, Fushion,

Circus and Creem. Although these publications were understood as music titles, their content

demonstrated greater diversity than what was available in either the UK or Australian music

press. These titles were interested in looking at music as a cultural form, rather than an art form, and were keen to impart a connection between popular music and lifestyle. More specifically, they were advocating a more political lifestyle and, as such, paid great attention to society and political reform as indicated by their attention to politics, the Vietnam War, civil rights for women and people of colour and sexual politics (see Frith, Gudmundsson et al).

Although both the UK and Australia had their own underground press, it was the writers of

the US versions, rather than the publications themselves, that are recognised as having the

greatest effect on the performance of music journalism in the UK (see Frith 1983, McRobbie

1989b, Forde 2001, Gudmundsson et al 2002). Many of the writers from the US titles moved

on to Rolling Stone magazine, which was launched in 1967, and is understood to have been

influenced by the approaches and thematic concerns found in these underground titles (see

Flippo 1974). Journalist Jon Landau is indicative of this new wave of journalism and worked

towards advocating a “clear criteria of artistic authenticity” (Gudmundsson et al, p.51) in his

role as reviews editor of Rolling Stone. Another, Robert Christgau “was one of many who

could apply academic tools to rock” (ibid) thus contributing to a more elaborate approach to understanding popular music. These writers are characterised by Frith as judging popular

music “according to its relevance for a sixties mythic community” (p.176) that, in turn,

creates the binary which underpins the notion of an authentic performer or text (see also

Gundmundsson et al, p.53).

Although Frith (1983) and Gundmundsson et al (2002) have charted the influence these

approaches had on UK music journalists working for Melody Maker and the NME, such an exercise has not been undertaken in relation to other sites of the music press. At the beginning of 1970, the NME “cultivated an irreverent stance…towards musicians and

representatives of the record industry” (Gundmundsson, p.52) while Melody Maker with its

longer features and reviews and more serious interviews touted itself as the “thinking fan’s

paper” (Frith, pp.171-172). These new configurations were understood as being directly

influenced by the ideologies constructed in the US underground press and those writers who were now appearing regularly in Rolling Stone. Rolling Stone was also launched in Australia

in 1971 and its content was largely imported from its US version as this editorial from the

following year confirms:

The Australian edition of Rolling Stone is identical to the American except that the two pages of editorial content are added and all advertisements are deleted from the American edition (Advertisements This Issue 1972)

Displaying evidence of an emerging type of journalism noted by other scholars, Australian

Rolling Stone contained content that went beyond music reporting and reviewing. In an issue

in the year following its launch in Australia, feature articles included a report on the civil

unrest in Washington and Berkeley, an essay by Hunter S Thompson covering the US

electoral campaign, and coverage of student riots at the University of New Mexico (Rolling

Stone 1972). Kelly (1989) argues that the local content of Australian Rolling Stone would

increase during the 1970s as the Australian music industry continued to grow (p.6).

Interestingly, he notes that the title in its early incarnation “conforms to the general cultural

process of the construction of an Australian identity…[which responds] firstly to American

and overseas influences, and secondly to changes and ‘emergences’ within the Australian

culture” (p.1). Certainly, the author’s argument about overseas influences is one apparent in

local music journalism where Australia, like the map of music titles offered during this time

in the US and UK, was also engaging in the publication of an underground press.

Although Go-Set was committed to a pop focus with little obvious critique in its approach, it was the title’s founding publisher who launched the first underground music press in

Australia. Revolution (see Figure 3), published monthly from 1970, “drew its inspiration from both the US and English underground press and had a strong emphasis on left-wing politics” Figure 3

Revolution

Revolution, Cover, January, 1971

(Brown 1981, p.196). An advert in Go-Set announcing the first edition of Revolution stated

its intentions claiming it would contain,

thirty-two word-packed pages of uninhibited, honest, intelligent discussion of pop and associated social and political happenings. A full blooded assault on the establishment and its way of reducing things to its own level (quoted in Kent 2002, p.164)

It featured articles such as “The Moratorium: An Exercise in Revolutionary Politics” (Butler

& Dease 1970) which follows the protests over Vietnam in Victoria and NSW; “Woodstock

and the Australian Think Police” (Thomas 1970) discussing the censoring of the film of the

same name; and “Only Through Struggle Can There be Peace” (Dalton & Arnold 1970) which takes an in-depth look at the war in Vietnam via interviews with various student

groups in Vietnam itself. Music was still a feature of the title, with feature stories on

musicians and festivals and, more importantly, in a move signalling changes occurring

overseas that had yet to be embraced by Go-Set, a section that included lengthy reviews of

albums from a variety of genres. But it would seem that the content, which was infused by

the same countercultural ideology to be found in underground titles overseas, was leaving

some readers a little jaded (see Kent, p.170). For example, a Revolution reader writes:

Revolution looked like being Australia’s only mag on the good music, rock, but it has not fulfilled it promise and deteriorated into just another political rag (Letters to the Editor 1970).

Politics and music appeared to be uneasy partners in publications of this nature in Australia.

As Chapter Five notes, the site for the revolutionary potential of local music was not to be

found in the music press, but rather at the site of performance – the pub. Pub rock for

Australia was a form as important to local music production and music journalism as

countercultural politics had been overseas. But Revolution would not be around to discuss

this shift for, after a succession of editors, writers and changes in format and name (to High Times), the title ceased publication in 1972.

Planet, (see Figure 4) launched just prior to the closure of Revolution in 1972, seemed to

carry on the tradition established in the latter. The ‘Planet News’ section from the edition

dated 3rd May, 1972 provides the best example of the eclecticism of the paper. There are short pieces on, for example: Vietnam, a US senator’s aim to legalise marijuana, a clip regarding civil rights for homosexuals in the US, a damning financial scandal involving

Standard Oil and a short piece on Black Muslims in Chicago. This interest in exploring political and social issues was also apparent in other Australian underground press such as

The Digger, Roadrunner and Drift. Yet two other aspects of Planet are notable for indicating a shift in Australian music journalism that concurs with some of those that were noted as occurring in the UK at the same time. Planet constructed music features in a way that was beyond the practice of Go-Set. For example, “David Bowie: The Role of Camp in Rock and

Roll” (Pepperell 1972) explored the performance of rock and roll rather than simply the sounds and lyrics associated with it, couching its discussion in terms that went beyond the pop focus that had been common amongst music journalism up until this point. “The State of

Australian Rock” (Moriarty 1972), meanwhile, noted that the lack of development in

Australia rock was to be blamed on the “small amount of venues currently operating in this country” (p.4). This article not only recognises the increasing visibility of a pub rock culture that was forming around Australian capital cities, but is also concerned specifically with local content, something again that had not been a feature of Australian music journalism. As

Brown (1981) notes in her history of the music press of the period, what marked Planet from

other music titles was that the music content “was almost entirely Australian” (p.198). In a similar way to the underground titles in the UK and US slowly ceased publication, so too did Figure 4

Planet

Planet, Cover, Vol.2, No.24, 1972 the likes of Planet, Digger et al, who had all closed by 1975. Nevertheless, their influence

would have an effect on the shape of Australian music journalism for the next decade.

For the Australian music press, 1975 was significant for two reasons. Following the closure

of Music Maker in 1973, Go-Set folded in 1975 as a result of the title failing to adapt to the

changing styles and attitudes of the new decade (Coupe 1998a). The other was the launch of

RAM (Rock Australia Magazine) which was “intended as local journal written and designed

to the standard of English papers such as New Musical Express and Melody Maker” (Coupe

1998b, np). This editorial from its first issue sets out the aim of the title:

Rock Australia Magazine is a new rock paper that aims to be world class because Australia is now part of the international rock scene. So we’ll be covering international groups with the same familiarity as Australian groups….Australia is a big part of the musical world. It’s time Australians recognised the same (O’Grady 1975).

This was one of the most revelatory aspects of RAM – it had an explicit interest, like Planet,

in the promotion of Australian music, something that was not the central concern of Go-Set.

Brown (1981), in surveying the music scene in the late 1970s, argues that it is “good” music that allows the rock press to develop and notes an unprecedented interest in local original music occurring at a national level at the time of RAM’s launch. Australian musicians had produced original material in the period prior to this time. The dominant presence of cover bands and artists during this period was being replaced by ‘pub rock’ (see Chapter Five) and bands such as AC/DC, Skyhooks, Sherbet and Hush who were all enjoying national popularity. This interest in local music was not instigated by the music press in this country – they capitalised on that interest. Rather, it was the launch of independent radio stations such as 2JJ in Sydney, and the broadcast of a new weekly television music program, Countdown that advocated strong support for local acts and industry. The combination of a growing pub rock culture and other media outlets celebrating the Australian music industry’s first boom

period created a fertile context for the arrival of RAM.

Analysing RAM’s approach to its subject matter reveals how similar the relationship between

the title and its readers is to what has been documented as occurring in the UK and the US at

the same time. For example, in an article on mainstream rock artist Suzi Quatro, the author

says:

I don’t think that she is a rebel, not really. Otherwise she wouldn’t still be tied up in the baby-biker packaging in which her management present her (Phillips 1975, emphasis in original)

In a feature on American new-wave act Blondie, who at the time were beginning to achieve more widespread, global success, the author shows concern that:

With the cult of celebrity having now reaching alarming proportions in the States, isn’t there a danger that, as with every other previous trend, the new wave will quickly be absorbed into the mainstream culture? (Carr 1979, p.11)

Opinion pieces tell us:

Radio people get their Cashbox’s every week to see what’s happening in America and that’s why we suddenly have interviews with [mainstream US rock artist’s] Toto and that sort of crap. Toto means nothing to anybody. (Warner 1979)

A review of The Eagles ‘Hotel California’ argues that:

At the moment they could probably record ‘Baa Baa Black Sheep’ backwards, and as long as the ooh-oohs sounded vaguely convincing, it’d shoot up the charts like greased lightning (Bree 1977).

Another album review employs a similar thematic concern to argue that the band “Queen are

knocking down the barriers without selling out” (Doherty 1977). These excerpts suggest that

RAM, like its UK and US contemporaries displayed an approach to discussing music via a notion of authenticity. Music is discussed here in terms of opposition – opposition to the music industry (“packaging”), the mainstream (the feature on Blondie and the reviews of the Eagles and Queen) and America (Toto and that “sort of crap”). Kelly (1989) notes a similar

theme during this period in Australian Rolling Stone where what is recognisable is an

approach that “attempts to distance itself from businesses, capitalism and markets” (p.66).

These two titles, taken as indicative of Australian music journalism during this period,

suggest that the themes identified by US and UK scholars have resonance within these

performances of music journalism and in the way this contributes to establishing a

relationship with their readers.

The work surveying music journalism during the 1970s agrees that the notion of authenticity

and the binaries which contributed to its meaning was one of the ways a relationship was

established between music titles and journalists and the readers. For the UK press, a relationship built on the binaries such as commercial/authentic, marginal/mainstream, and a sense of being anti-establishment put them in a good position to respond to the punk

movement that gained momentum at the end of the decade. In Australia, the themes that were

being evoked in music journalism would be ‘performed’ in pub rock (see Chapter Five)

rather than a local punk movement per se. Yet while a wealth of writing exists on the cultural

impact of punk (see for example, Marcus 1999, Sabin 1999, Savage 1991, Laing 1985) it did

not necessarily change the face of music journalism forever. As Tonybee (1993) argues

though, punk “collapsed musical taste into subculture so that fandom and lifestyle…became

inextricably…and permanently intertwined” (p.291). This, he argues, “reinforces the tight

relationship between identity, journalism and genre” (ibid). While research into US music

journalism implies a slow transition during this period, a closer examination of UK and

Australian performances works towards explaining Toynbee’s claims about the bond between

journalism and genre.

New Genres, New Markets

Chambers (1985) notes that at the end of the 1970s, “all the most important musical styles

that have gone into the making of British pop” co-existed in the UK’s music scene (p.194).

He lists genres such as punk, soul, funk and country as representative of a “heterogenous

present” that marked the end of a discourse of popular music that suggested a linear

movement. Additionally, as Toynbee (1993), Gudmundsson et al (2002) and Reynolds

(1990a) have noted, the late 1970s and the early 1980s are also notable for the genre of ‘new

pop’, which found pop returning as a visible music genre in a similar way to its place in the

mid-1960s. Reynolds claims that ‘new pop’ is responsible for the “hell we now inhabit”

(p.469) which, while referring to the musical landscape, is an observation that works well

when applied to the structure of the music press. For, as Toynbee and Gudmundsson et al

have argued, the popularity and visibility of this new genre was to have a profound effect on

the structure of the UK music press. Represented by artists such as Wham, Culture Club,

Duran Duran and ABC, new pop’s popularity was helped in no small part by the advent of

MTV during the early 1980s. As Théberge (1991) notes, however, “more critical attention

was paid to the rise of MTV during its first two years of operation than to the music press

during the past two decades” (p.272) and, as such, it is not the intention to continue that trend

here. Rather, MTV’s elevation of the place of the video clip in music marketing placed an

emphasis on style that was of equal importance as lyrics, melody, etc in the signification of

meaning in new pop. It was ‘style’ rather than ‘substance’ that attracted most derision from

critics. Reynolds, for example, suggested that new pop signalled a recognition that the “idea

of a rock community, rock as folk, was dead” and that this community had been superseded

by the media, which was now being utilised to sell music through “the techniques of hype and contrivance” (p.469). For music journalism this would present a problem as it had often helped construct this community through the use of what was becoming an outdated discourse of popular music. If indeed this rock community was dead, then a reassessment of approach would be required. And it is Smash Hits that would provide the impetus for reassessment.

Smash Hits was launched in the UK in 1978 with an Australian version appearing six years later. Whilst the popularity of new pop would provide Smash Hits with circulation figures beyond those experienced by the music press up until this time (see Reynolds 1990b,

Toynbee 1993), it is its effect on the practice of music journalism that is of concern here.

Unlike Melody Maker or the NME in the UK, or RAM or Rolling Stone in Australia, Smash

Hits had a “cheerful approach [and was] personality focused, fact-heavy and short winded”

(Reynolds 1990b, p.26). It was this approach that had contributed to the downfall of Go-Set in Australia, and was also one that the ‘serious’ music press had worked towards removing from their pages during the 1970s. Mark Ellen (quoted in Forde 2001) one of the founding team that launched Smash Hits says the intention behind the magazine was to create a vastly different approach to writing about music. He says:

the editors had all left behind the tedious and rather turgid polytechnic reasoning to everything typical of the inkies [i.e. Melody Maker, NME], preferring instead to create an incredible, fantasy parallel universe as ‘cartoon-like creatures’ and their traits taken to the level of hyperbole and gently lampooned (p.27/28).

Fun and humour were central to the journalism of Smash Hits that challenged the established framing associated with music journalism at this stage. Its celebration of style was evident in its glossy covers and formats – a first at this point for any publication that was considered part of the music press. Toynbee (1993) argues that it was this new style and approach rather than the pop content that marked a new territory for music journalism. Indeed Rimmer (in

Toynbee) claims this is why Smash Hits became “the trendy magazine to read, not just

among…teenagers, yet also among the hipper and older metropolitan crowd” (ibid).

In the first edition of the Australian Smash Hits the editor says the magazine will be

“covering everything in the Australian charts” (Smash Hits 1984) which is reminiscent of the

content of the music press during in the 1960s. Content for this launch issue includes a

limited number of features that include then ‘chart-toppers’ Wham, Alison Moyet and

Australian band, Icehouse. Over fourteen song lyrics are offered as part of the content of the title as are several poster pages and a poster centrespread that features popular artists Tina

Turner, John Taylor (of Duran Duran), U2, INXS and Wham. Singles and albums each have

their own review space, as do sections for news (“Bitz”) and gossip (“Mutterings”), with the

remaining pages dedicated to competitions. Certainly the construction of content seems to

speak to a more youthful audience, as the presence of posters and song lyrics indicates, but it

is in a closer analysis of the reviews sections that a more playful approach to music journalism is apparent – one that marks the title in stark contrast to its then competitors.

In a practice where critical frameworks during this period were often couched by binaries

such as, marginal/mainstream and authentic/commercial, the reviews in Smash Hits

demonstrate a shift in the way music could be discussed between reader and writer. Humour

rears its head as the concluding remarks on Janet Jackson’s debut album argue that the “result

is fairly unremarkable pop/disco which would be more suitable for listening to in Safeway

than at home” (Anthony 1984) and Diana Ross’ album is described as one to play “to your Mum while you bop to Madonna” (Hocking 1984). UK pop artist Kim Wilde is described as

always giving:

the impression that her voice is woefully weak, and has had to be over-dubbed a couple of times, but then, so does Michael Jackson and look where he is (O’Donnell 1985).

Australia act Goanna’s new single is given a one word review – “boring” while UK artist

Paul Hardcastle’s single that samples dialogue from a Vietnam Veteran is given a little more

detail:

May I be so bold to suggest that this is media manipulation in a near-pure form. After all, with the 10th anniversary of the fall of Saigon just past, and every media organisation in the world focusing on the horror of the Vietnam war, Mr Hardcastle’s timing is perfect (ibid)

Several aspects attributed to Smash Hits style of journalism are apparent here. A sense of

humour is apparent that resonates with the founding editor’s assertion that the approach was

one that could be viewed as ‘hyperbole’. Second, in the Hardcastle example, traces of a

journalism that is now beginning to look outside the text as a means of reviewing its ‘worth’

or ‘meaning’ in ways that do not seek to judge the text as authentic. As Harley and Botsman

(1983) note, this was an approach that could also be found in Melody Maker in the early

1980s, but, as Gunmundsson et al (2002) argue, it was often couched in academic terms

which stood in stark contrast to the approach in Smash Hits.

As Smash Hits continued to challenge what discourses would be employed in the music press, Melody Maker during the early 1980s:

hired a group of new writers straight out of Oxford and gave them free reign [sic] to write think pieces inspired by French poststructuralists like Barthes and Kristeva, in a florid, literary style (Gudmundsson 2002, p.57).

A review of the Pet Shop Boy’s album ‘Actually’ from Melody Maker seems to demonstrate

this point aptly:

I’m still not sure what it is that makes them better than their peers, but I’ve an idea it’s something to do with a distancing that resists dismissal, a knowledge that never turns to knowing smirks.…the group utilise an approach which embraces both post- modernist understanding and a ravishing pop grasp that hates explanations. Remarkably, the two are mutually compatible….For the Pet Shop Boys to take their lyrical concerns into so many avenues of the pop process seems to me far less patronising and far more perceptive than the accepted mode of deconstruction through the mawkish reinterpretations of lost love that their critics appear to endorse so strongly. ‘Actually’ is the best new pop record album you will hear this year and anyone who disagrees is stupid. Ah, critical discourse, what fun.” (Mathur 1987, emphasis in original).

Similarly, band Josef K are described as “flawed post-modernists” (Sutherland 1987) while

Samantha Fox’s album has a “post-modernist psychedelia subtly introduced to counterpoint

Sammy’s resonant vocal” (Irwin 1987). Reviewing musical texts in this way has led some to describe this period of journalism as one that involved “highbrow pretensions” (Reynolds

1990b, p.27) which led to an isolation amongst its readerships who often did not understand the frameworks used to explore the texts. But Toynbee (1993) suggests that whatever the

“theoretical inflection”, Melody Maker and the NME were actually continuing a mode of

journalism that was “remarkably close to the 1970s model” (p.296). For Toynbee, this

practice was a means of creating a form of cultural capital for their readers that stood in sharp

contrast to the celebratory tone of journalism emanating from Smash Hits. These two

approaches are indicative of a change in the established performance of music journalism as

different music titles use different critical frameworks to maintain the relationship between

journalism and their readers.

With Smash Hits in Australia serving a particular readership and Australian Rolling Stone

borrowing the “rock as art” approach of its US parent (Kelly 1989, p.69/70), it would seem

that RAM continued to be influenced by the journalism appearing in Melody Maker and the

NME. A review of a Duran Duran album argues:

There is something utterly meagre about the dreams they are fulfilling, something desperately middle-class about the way they’re flaunting their nouveau riches….It’s a big mistake, causing the cracks in the Max Factor to yawn wider than ever (Brunnetti 1984, emphasis in original).

‘Chart-topping’ Australian pop band Moving Pictures are placed in a very specific category

by the reviewer who says:

I suppose if you’re thirteen, wear braces on your teeth, have just discovered Clairol, tampons and realised [‘Iron Man’ champion] Grant Kenny’s erection doesn’t come from eating sultana bran, then Moving Pictures may well be your dream band (Byrnes 1984).

Another Australian outfit, The Models, have melodies that:

are a collage of violent and strident elements, expressions of inchoate urban stress and black wit that too often tumbles into meaningless obtuseness….but at other times, it’s a Machiavellian methodology that inflates songs precariously close to artifice (Mordue 1984).

These examples from RAM, like those from Melody Maker, impart a very different approach to the reviewing procedure demonstrated by Smash Hits. With Melody Maker’s reviews demonstrating the fluidity between criteria sanctioned by academic discourses and music journalism (McRobbie 1989b), RAM’s approach seems to both acknowledge this as well as continuing to employ an approach that situates the music, the title and its readership prefer, in opposition to mainstream tastes. The differences between a pop title like Smash Hits and the

approaches notable in rock titles such as Melody Maker and RAM are what leads Toynbee

(1993) to argue that at the end of 1980s the music press is one that is organised along

“generic-discursive” boundaries (p.292). If there was a dominant discourse of music journalism in previous periods, Toynbee’s argument here suggests that it was now one that

was informed by different approaches and themes that were organised along categories of

genre.

The “generic-discursive” framework is one that is supported by the above analysis where

titles that deal with specific genres employ a particular critical framework in the construction

of a readership for their title. At the end of the 1980s, the emergence of new titles in both the

UK and Australia worked towards establishing a readership based firstly on genre. In the UK

at this time, NME, Melody Maker, and Sounds focused on marginal rock with the Record

Mirror covering a broader approach generally within the genre of rock (Toynbee, p.293).

Kerrang!, launched in 1981, is dedicated to heavy rock, whilst No.1 took on board the pop

genre that at the end of the decade had been receiving most of its coverage in Smash Hits. In

Australia during this period, Countdown and Hit Songwords worked to poach the readership

of Smash Hits while Hot Metal employed a similar focus of genre to that of Kerrang!. The map of the music press during this period is also notable for two other changes to the UK and

Australian music press – the emergence of a new title, Q, which was launched in the UK in

1987, and the closure of two of Australia’s music publications, with RAM and Juke ceasing

trading in 1989.

To honour the end of RAM’s publishing, its main competitor, Rolling Stone, penned an

obituary stating:

RAM had been pursuing an approach to popular culture which was still very Seventies – serious young rock bands with indie singles and promo shots taken against a suitable gritty wall….[But] popular culture is changing rapidly and the uses of music are moving away from the identification with bands and songwriters into a broader and more complex relationship with everyday life. Rock music is no longer part of the angry young man stance. Rock music is something they play in the supermarket (Creswell 1989).

While the closure of many of Australian music titles has been blamed on the introduction of a

free street press (Coupe 1998a, Kent 2002, p.182) this description of rock music seems to

concur with the observations made by McRobbie (1989b) in her assessment of the changing

nature of music journalism in the late 1980s. The subcultural and counter cultural movements

that had influenced the late 1960s and early 1970s approaches to music journalism had

splintered into more discreet groupings and taste cultures (Thornton 1995) that were less

interested in opposition than they were leisure and lifestyle. Magazines such as The Face and

i-D were responses to these new configurations and promoted themselves as arbiters of taste

and lifestyle (McRobbie, p.xiv) in all matters pertaining to popular culture. If the changing

discourse of popular music cited rock music as less about being “angry” and “identification”

than it was about a “relationship with everyday life” then it seems that Q was the magazine

that would use this as the means with which to establish a relationship with its readers.

Q proved to be an early success for its publishers, tripling its sales over the first three years of

its publication (Reynolds 1990b, p.27). Its launch “was founded on the premise that readers were deserting the music papers because they were alienated by the vicious journalism and

highbrow pretensions” (ibid) that had come to define UK titles such as Melody Maker and the

NME. Q sat somewhere between the readerships of Smash Hits and the Face, with a dedication to not just pop or contemporary music, but a respectful nod to the past as evidenced by the first three covers for the title that featured Paul McCartney, Rod Stewart and Elton John respectively. It has made no effort to hide its role as a consumer guide – the title of the magazine is a pun on the term ‘cue’ which related to the CD technology that was only then infiltrating mainstream culture. It is the arrival of CD technology that Q imagines heralds the emergence of a new set of readerships. Indeed, it was the first magazine to promote the amount of albums reviewed in each edition on its cover, suggesting the aim of establishing a readership via consumption rather than the previously established critical frameworks. It is this attention to the consumer of music that no doubt contributes to the criticism of the title. Q is blamed for “lowering, if not the tone, then the temperature of music journalism throughout the field” (Reynolds, p.27) and being “uninspiring” (Hobson 2000).

Ex-musician, Pat Kane (1995), claims that Q reduced the “irreducible wonder of popular music…into a sad male cul-de-sac, adjacent to angling or car maintenance”. All of these criticisms implicitly suggest that it is Q’s attention to consumption without critique that has had an irreversible effect on the discourse of music journalism. But as part of the music media, Q’s approach to journalism can be seen as recognising a shift in journalistic performance that recognises popular music is consumed as part of a range of leisure activities rather than necessarily involving a symbolic statement like those promoted in the discourse associated with the 1960s and 1970s. Q takes all of the genres in the canon of popular music and treats them all with an approach more akin to that of Smash Hits rather than, for example,

Melody Maker. If its relationship with its readers is also defined by the ‘generic-discursive’ formula noted by Toynbee (1993) then it is one that largely relies on critical frameworks rather than genre, as Chapter Four aims to demonstrate. For genre can only tell us so much about the contemporary relationships embedded in the music press.

The Genre Map of the UK and Australian Music Press (2001)

Forde (2001) argues that the UK music press market is one that is notable for being

overcrowded with titles that attempt to court the same niche readerships. We can trace this argument in Table 3 that shows that in 2001 the music press is, in the first instance, classifiable under genre rather than any of the critical/thematic frameworks outlined in this chapter. For example, mixmag, muzik and dj all court readerships interested in dance cultures, while Metal Hammer and Kerrang! work to maintain readerships interested in heavy rock. In

Australia, only Smash Hits (see Table 4) seems to have its difference marked along generic lines with the title continuing its focus on popular/chart-based pop acts. More broadly speaking NME, Uncut, Q, and Mojo claim readerships who are interested in rock, a category so broad that it seems to only make sense in comparison to the genres covered in other titles.

So although genre stands as an important way to understand the workings of the music press it still does not lead us to understand how different titles work in a contemporary environment and whether this has influenced the evolution music journalism’s critical frameworks. Differences within titles classified under genre cannot be explained unless further analysis is offered. This is one of the aims of Section Two of this thesis.

This chapter has explored the approaches offered by academic work reviewed in Chapter One

via a historical analysis of music journalism in the Australia and the UK as well as

acknowledging the pertinent influences from the US. Themes such as authenticity were

shown to be a dominant framework in the discourse of music journalism for a long period

though this approach itself was also shown to have undergone change. This historical

analysis shows how music journalism is a service that is continually evolving and that this is

often a result of factors outside of its production, such as the political, social and musical

climate in which it operates. This overview has also shown how many of the observations

offered by scholars from particular national contexts are relevant in other ones. In Australia,

for example, the performance of music journalism in the 1970s and 1980s had much in Table 3

Music Press Map as at January 2001 United Kingdom Title Publisher Established ‘Profile’ Circulation “authoritative New Musical overview of 70,003 IPC Media 1952 Express (NME) today’s music scene” “latest news and Smash Hits EMAP 1978 gossip from the 221,622 world of pop” “dedicated to Kerrang! EMAP 1981 loud aggressive 47,004 music” “the modern Q EMAP 1987 guide to music 204,014 and more” “dedicated to hip Hip Hop Ministry 1989 hop music and 12,358 Connection Magazines culture” “coverage of legendary 84,010 Mojo EMAP 1993 musicians past and present” “mainstream Future Metal Hammer 1994 hard rock 37,069 Publishing monthly” ‘dance music Muzik IPC Media 1995 and club culture 43,748 magazine” Companion to BBC chart-based 305,122 Top of the Pops Worldwide 1995 music television Publishing show “music and Uncut IPC Media 1997 movies” 53,193 “dance music DJ Nexus Media Unknown and clubs” 23,522 Unknown – Dance based – Mixmag EMAP bought by clubs, DJs, 106,111 EMAP events etc Future Classic Rock Unknown unknown Publishing 32,861

Source: BRAD (www.brad.co.uk) Table 4

Music Press Map as at January 2001

Australia

Title Publisher Established Profile Circulation Juice Terraplanet 1993 “music news, stories, interviews, environment, 40,000 (not cyberspace & verified) politics” Rolling Stone Nextmedia 1971 “Youth culture – music, film, 38,500 technology, entertainment” Smash Hits EMAP (Aus) 1984 “music” 64, 000

Source: Margaret Gees Media Guide (2001) common with the approached that have been noted in both the UK and US. This suggests a

period of music journalism where issues related to popular music have a resonance on a

global/mass scale that results in a similarity in performances on music journalism across

national contexts. Additionally, this chapter has shown how factors contributing to the

discourse of popular music and its consumption have influenced and/or are supported by the

discourse of music journalism.

As noted in the Introduction of this thesis many changes have occurred in the UK, and to a

lesser extent, the Australian market since the period of analysis covered in this chapter. The

UK music press, for example, has seen a sharp drop in recent circulation figures for some of

its titles and a number of publications have ceased trading. Whereas dance magazines had

once enjoyed increasing year on year circulation figures, both Ministry and Muzik were closed by their respective publishers during 2003. In the rock genre, Select and Melody

Maker also succumbed to poor circulation figures and were closed down at the end of 2000.

Can these closures be explained by genre and the critical frameworks employed within these titles alone? Is a genre’s popularity able to be measured against circulation figures for a media product that speaks to that particular music culture? How important are circulation figures to publishers of these titles and what function do the publishing industry play in the

prevalence of particular performances of music journalism? Whereas this chapter has

demonstrated how the consumption and discourses of popular music have influenced the

changing frameworks of music journalism, the extent of this influence needs to be considered

alongside industrial concerns that may have also contributed to the restructuring of the market apparent in Tables 3 and 4. The following chapter investigates this proposition by

examining the publishing organisations responsible for the dominant consumer music press titles in the UK and Australia. The aim is to uncover what influence publishing imperatives have had on the prevalent performances of music journalism and what future challenges, if any, these may pose.

Chapter Three

Markets, not Medium: The Structure of Music Press Publishing

The previous chapter offered an historical analysis that posited a relationship between the consumption of popular music and the production of music journalism. Using previous academic enquiry into the field, it was argued that changes to music journalism are influenced by the evolving discourse of popular music. This equation is one that acknowledges changes in the ways music is consumed and, more implicitly, some of the motivation behind this consumption. The analysis confirmed many of the observations made in the field by other researchers, but it was a method that focused on the text rather than the industrial/organisational forces that contribute to its production. Forde (2001, 2003) in his examination of UK music journalism, argues that it is necessary to examine the publishers of music titles to achieve a greater understanding of the performances of music journalism that permeate the contemporary mediascape. While historical analysis demonstrates the range of influences on the performance of music journalism, what, if any, influence do publishers have on the themes and criterion outlined in the previous chapter? Indeed, are publishers themselves subject to similar forces to those outlined in the previous chapter?

The aim of this chapter is to chart a brief history of several publishing groups responsible for the consumer music titles under analysis to ascertain what factors have effected their organisations and whether these factors have had any effect on the performance of music journalism appearing in their titles. My intention is to explore some of the more common assumptions of capitalism such as those that claim that it is institutions, and the decisions made within these institutions, that enforce certain types of consumption (see Dolfsma 2002, Gerbner, Mowlana & Schiller 1996, Herman & McChesney 1997). As Ryan (1991) notes,

capitalist “cultural production is presumed to be a closed system” (p.11) and it is this

assumption that ignores other factors that could be understood to inform cultural products.

One of these factors is the consumers themselves, whose “taste changes are shaped by many

factors and feed back to the corporations through product sales” (p.12). Ryan’s quote here

relates to the music industry and how changing patterns of consumption result in a continual turnover of popular and hybrid genres. With the previous chapter concluding that consumer music press titles are organised in recognition of different approaches to consumption often based on, for example, genre, this chapter seeks to ascertain whether this type of structuring is apparent within publishing organisations themselves.

The core of this analysis draws upon the experience, in the UK, of two publishing

organisations in particular. EMAP (East Midlands Associated Press) and IPC (International

Publishing Company) Media have been noted as having a duopoly on music press

publications in that country (see Forde 2001, 2003) as well as being leaders in magazine

publishing on a global scale. This chapter also explores two publishing organisations in

Australia to complement the analysis and to ascertain structural change in a smaller market.

The particular focus on UK organisations allows an exploration of changing organisational

practices in large-scale environments that have undergone tremendous change throughout the

late 1990s. In the UK, publishing organisations have promoted their embracing of brand and

brand extensions, as well as touting their focus on markets, rather than medium. In Australia

and the UK, many initiatives, and indeed, music titles, have failed. One of the aims of this

chapter is to understand whether there is any correlation between this and the observations

made with regard to the evolving readerships of music journalism noted in the previous chapter. This can be achieved by comparing the relationships between production and

consumption introduced in the previous chapter with those ideals that underpin these

initiatives. This strategy can be undertaken by employing work that examines the association

between the cultural and the industrial, specifically that which works to theorise the

emergence of a ‘new economy’.

Production/Consumption and the ‘New Economy’

Publishers of the music press, and publishing in general, can be categorised as part of the

cultural industries. Hesmondhalgh (2002) defines these industries as those that are involved

in “the production of social meaning” (p.12) and those that “deal with the industrial production and circulation of texts” (p.13). According to the author these industries include, for example, advertising and marketing, broadcasting, the film and music industry as well as print and electronic publishing. The term “creative industries” is similar in scope but would also include “craft based industries” such as fashion, jewellery and furniture design (ibid.).

Analysis that has considered the organisational practices of the cultural industries have noticed that these institutions have had to deal with a shift:

from the mass consumption habits of the 50s/60s to the niche markets of the 70s/80s…[which has] led not just to an expansion of the market but the proliferation and fragmentation of markets. (O’Connor 1999, p.22)

Consequently, these industries have had to “radically restructure their operations in order to

detect and respond to these increasingly niched and volatile markets” (p.23). It is the

increasing proliferation of information and communication technologies (ICT’s) that is

understood to enable cultural industries to undertake this task while also influencing how

they approach their business strategies. The place of ICT’s in contemporary organisational

structures has led to critics arguing that we are entering into a period of a “new economy”, one that is a comparatively “weightless one, increasingly based on dematerialised output in

the forms of code, media content, design, information and services” (Flew 2002, p.64,

emphasis in original). It is these “weightless” forms that has lead Leadbeater (1999) to argue

that we are living in an “intangible economy” where the value attributed to goods and

services is often “a product of fashion and perception” (p.24). Publishing industries as a form of “cultural industry” are also responding to the changed conditions of the new economy.

Specialising in producing media content (an intangible product), “fashion and perception” have led to their particular products (music magazines) becoming more niche-orientated, a suggestion that was apparent in the conclusion to the previous chapter. As will be explored below, music press publishers stand as a good example of new economy practices, dealing as they do with niche markets for intangible services and employing new communication technologies as a means of increasing the economic viability of their organisations.

Castells (2000) theory of the “network society” and Leadbeater’s (2000) use of this theory

provide the means by which we can better understand the influence of consumers in the

formation of a new economy. Castells’ work looks at how ICT’s and the processes of

globalisation has led to a “flexibility of information production” (p.415) in comparison to the

mass standardisation characteristic of traditional economic practices. But it is Leadbeater

who takes this idea further, noting that this flexibility is a result of “knowledgeable

consumerism” (p.182) that has led to consumers increasingly becoming involved in the final

stages of production. He uses the example of software manufacture to indicate how

production is now not the sole responsibility of the producers. End users participate, in this

instance, by configuring software and customising it to meet their particular specifications.

Certainly, the rise of open-source software, where a network of users rather than a sole producer creates new software products, is an explicit example of this process (see

www.OpenSource.org). Leadbeater’s ideas and the example of software manufacture

recognises a dialogue in the equation of production and consumption, as opposed to the one

way system of production associated with the “old” economy of Fordist industrial production.

In the new economy, and more particularly in the example of the publishing industry, it is

this dialogue that is central to music press products succeeding and, of course, failing.

The centrality of the production/consumption dialogue in the new economy is evoked in

Leadbeater’s (1999) assertion that it is intangible “recipes” that “are the engines of economic

growth” (p.36). While the “raw material we have to work with has been the same for all of

human history” (Romer, in ibid.) it is the different recipes that include these materials that

cultural and creative organisations are now understanding as being the key to future success.

It is here that a dialogue with consumers is essential, for it is these “knowledgeable

consumers” that influence and contribute to the new recipes being forged. In this equation,

consumption is “more of a relationship than an act” (p.35) and, for publishing groups,

recognising this relationship is of utmost importance. While new technologies have afforded

new recipes to be explored in the publishing industry, such as new titles, or branded

radio/television stations – the consumption “relationship” that has informed these new recipes

is often neglected. As the following aims to demonstrate, new recipes in the publishing

industry that succeed are those that align technological possibility with the music journalism

approaches that represent different types of music consumers in music press titles. This suggests that industrial/organisational activity cannot impinge on the critical frameworks already established. The analysis of EMAP and IPC Media that follows demonstrates the relationship of consumer activity to the formation of new economy products and services.

EMAP: From Medium to Markets

Exploring the histories of the two publishing organisations responsible for the majority of music press publications in the UK allows an opportunity to further explore some of the changes associated with the transition from an “old” economy to the new economy. In 2004,

EMAP are currently the publishers of Q, Mojo, heavy metal weekly Kerrang! , the dance title mixmag and the fortnightly pop publication Smash Hits. The current music magazine roster of IPC Media, its main competitor, includes the NME and Uncut, following the closure of dance title Muzik in 2003. For both of these organisations it is general consumer interest titles

(i.e. television listing magazines, ‘women’s’ magazines, ‘lad mags’) rather than specialist music titles that form the greater part of their advertising revenue because of their greater market visibility and circulation. With a large publication portfolio, these organisations make for an appropriate case study to understand the dialogue between consumption and production noted in the previous chapter – a dialogue also apparent in the new economy.

Both EMAP and IPC Media were organisations born out of an old economy approach where it was the medium, rather than the market, that was understood as the key to market dominance and economic stability. Where music publications are situated contemporarily within these organisational networks demonstrates a relationship between production and consumption that is applicable to the changing nature of publishing. This will further an understanding of the factors that have contributed to contemporary performances of music journalism.

The foundations of publishing giant EMAP began in 1887 following the acquisition of the

Spalding Guardian, a newspaper title circulated in the East Midlands of Britain (www.emap.co.uk). Sixty years later the publishing organisation was formed following the purchase of other printing and publishing groups within the area. Within five years of its incorporation, EMAP was publishing seventeen newspaper titles in the region. By the mid-

1950s the organisation moved into launching “specialist newspapers” that dealt largely with the twin leisure pursuits of angling and automobiles. Although this seems to recognise a niche market based on particular leisure pursuits, EMAP claim, that it was in fact a result of having “spare capacity on the printing press” (www.emap.co.uk). The map of EMAP’s progress at this point suggests two motivating forces in publishing that are indicative of an old economy approach. The newspaper titles were largely constructed around locality, a situation that is typical of contemporary mediascapes though it is one that is being challenged by global mediums such as the Internet. Secondly, as their ‘specialist’ publications demonstrate, it was economies of scale rather than the recognition of niche audiences that resulted in new titles being launched. At this point in the company’s history it was the medium rather than the market that was central to its publishing practice. It would be another two decades before the recognition of an emerging niche market would result in the beginnings of new approach to publishing.

EMAP’s first foray into publishing a music title came with the launch of Smash Hits in 1978.

At the time, the market for music titles was dominated by weekly titles such as the NME and

Melody Maker, but Smash Hits had little in common with these publications. For the first time since the teenager magazines of the 1960s, Smash Hits attempted to capture a market that, at the time, was not being addressed by those titles that were addressing readers with a thematic framework influenced by the punk movement. Toynbee (1993) argues that Smash

Hits simultaneously constructed a genre – new pop and a readership – the pop fan that, at this point in time, did not exist in any textual space in the UK. As argued in the previous chapter the charter of the title in its initial gestation was created through its critical distancing from its competitors, largely achieved through evoking humour rather than authenticity (via an anti- mainstream stance) as a guiding principal. In this environment, Smash Hits can be understood as EMAP’s first recognition of a fragmentation occurring within the mass market of popular music consumption. Certainly, during the late 1970s, the readership for the title was a niche one, as pop music had yet to experience the resurgence in popularity that it would have in the

1980s when circulation for the title overtook all competition and claimed approximately half a million readers per fortnight (Toynbee 1993). The publication is now firmly ingrained as a member of the UK music press, but it is important to consider the difference it offered to music consumers and the indicators it sent to its publishers. Smash Hits changed the music press landscape in the UK as it indicated that different titles that would speak to different collectives of consumers of popular music could exist. This was confirmed when EMAP launched Q in the late 1980s and its success, along with Smash Hits, found the company taking a greater interest in matching media products to different types of popular music consumers.

At the beginning of the 1990s, EMAP had recognised the fragmenting market of popular music consumers and was experimenting with new media as a means of generating revenue.

Broadening their interests beyond print media that dominated the company’s portfolio at the time, in 1990, EMAP purchased the conglomerate Metro Radio. Whereas the publication of

Smash Hits recognised a fragment of music consumers with a preference for more popular forms of music, Metro Radio was home to another platform that undertook a similar charter.

KissFM was a pirate radio station dedicated to, what were at the time, underground dance genres that received no major coverage in either mainstream radio or the more popular titles

of the music press. Upon the purchase of Metro Radio, it was EMAP’s intention to transform

this illegal station into a major stakeholder, initially, in the London market

(www.emap.co.uk). With an underground dance culture in bloom across London, the station

eventually became a phenomenal success that was less an indication of the medium itself

than it was a niche group of consumers who were poised and waiting for textual space that

was not provided elsewhere. The success of KissFM was an important development in the history of EMAP, as the publishing group began to recognise the increasing fragmentation within what was once a mass market for popular music. Much like its printed music publications, KissFM was addressing a very different collective of consumers to other radio stations, such as CapitalFM and Radio One in London at the time. The shift in EMAP’s focus influenced by changing patterns of consumption, led them to concentrate on these emerging markets rather than the medium itself. This shift was consolidated in 1996 when the organisation sold its newspaper holdings in order to concentrate on media platforms that afforded this niche address – specifically radio and magazines (www.emap.co.uk). For

EMAP’s music interests, this meant that consumers could now be targeted along lines of

genre.

By the mid-1990s, EMAP’s main publishing competitor, IPC Media, had purchased the NME

and Melody Maker as well as Vox, a monthly magazine with the same critical approach and genre preferences of its stable-mates, which closed in 1995. IPC, unlike EMAP, demonstrates a mass market approach in its music titles, with the weekly titles addressing the same audience via the similar approaches noted in the previous chapter. In comparison, EMAP continued to launch publications that were indicative of the map of music consumption in the UK at the time. Titles included those that addressed dance cultures (mixmag), heavy metal

consumers (Kerrang!), classic rock and its artists (Mojo), the indie subculture (Select) as well as continuing to publish both Smash Hits and Q. While these titles demonstrated EMAP’s recognition of new markets, they also continued to be lured by the promise of new

technology, in this instance, digital television. In 1997, EMAP made its first venture into

television with the launch of their music video channel The Box, televised via the Sky Digital

network. EMAP’s portfolio at this point is one that judiciously mixes an approach that aims

to capture increasingly fragmented readerships with new media ventures. Technology and

changing patterns of consumption had transformed EMAP from an organisation interested

solely in print publishing to one that was now attempting to work through these factors for

maintaining their market position. It is the duality of technology and fragmenting

consumption that would now not only effect how this publishing group understood the

structure of its market, but also the structure of the publishing group itself.

EMAP, IPC Media: Markets and Networks and the Remnants of Australian Publishing

In the new economy, Rifkin (2000) argues that the contemporary cultural sphere is

increasingly appropriated by the economic and that commercial organisations are in a

position to become “the final arbiter of our personal and collective existence” (p.113). This,

according to Negus, is part of a “recurring and familiar story” (p.115) whereby organisations

and economic imperatives are understood as enforcing a form of social control and having “a

detrimental impact upon the activities of creative artists and the public” (p.117). Negus

argues that there are more dialogical aspects to be considered in the relationship between

consumption and production in creative organisations that are often based “on a series of historically specific cultural values, beliefs and prejudices” (p.116). Similarly writers such as

O’Connor (1999) and Caves (2000) who, in noting the rise of cultural/creative industries,

have argued that the commercial sphere relies on being aware of changing tastes and values

rather than being the “arbiters” of consumption as offered by Rifkin. This is not confined to

publishers of the music press but can also be read in the structure of the music industry itself.

The recording industry during the 1970s, for example, witnessed an unprecedented rise in the number of record labels catering for varying taste groupings/niche audiences. This was explicitly evident in the UK during the punk period, where the growth of the independent record label served as a means of providing a service to a select grouping of consumers. In this instance, labels were launched that were specifically focused on the provision of punk music recordings that the major labels would not support (see Laing 1985). Following on from punk, consumption of dance music and Alternative/Indie music, for example, also resulted in new record labels appearing that were dedicated to providing a service to specific consumers of these genres. Within major recording labels, too, there was a restructuring of music portfolios that resulted in sub-labels being created for bands and genres with smaller audiences and smaller guarantees of large returns (for further discussion see Sanjek 1997).

The proliferation of recording labels, specialist charts and record stores to cater to specific music tastes (i.e. hip-hop, techno, country and western, etc) is indicative of how consumption

practices bear upon production practices. Music industry giants such as Sony and/or Warners

now include sub-divisions and networks that recognise, and attempt to capitalise on, the shift

from the mass market model of music consumption to one that is fragmented along markers

of genre and/or sub-genre.

This last example best mirrors the restructuring process undertaken by the publishing

industry, where restructuring allows particular cultural industries to best respond to increasingly niche audiences. This is particularly evident in the history of EMAP, who

continued to modify its operations to respond to fragmenting markets on a general level. This

modification of business practices was confirmed by Kevin Hand, Chairman of EMAP, who

announced in a press statement at the end of 1999 that the company was to “reorganise its

UK activities so that all businesses are organised around markets rather than by medium”

(www.emap.co.uk). EMAP’s restructuring here is indicative of structures of other publishing

groups responsible for the music press in the UK and Australia who have now organised their

companies along client and consumer bases rather than the traditional medium approach.

The reorganisation of EMAP’s portfolios finds the company structured into what the

organisation itself has termed “community networks” (Stamp 1999). To an extent, this is

reminiscent of Castells’ (2000) observations regarding business practices in the new economy

where he argues that there is a new form of economic organisation called the “network

enterprise” (p.415). He argues that while global networks exist, individual corporations are

also being “internally de-centralised as networks” (ibid.) as a means of improving their role

of service providers, a trade central to the idea of a new economy. For EMAP, part of these

“community networks” included the establishment of multimedia divisions intended to

“ensure EMAP’s brands exploit the digital revolution and media convergence as rapidly as

possible” (Stamp 1999). Certainly EMAP’s strategy here seems to following the line of new

economy theory where technology affords new revenue possibilities. But, at the same time,

“exploiting” new media seems to be at odds with the company’s previous announcement that activities would be based on markets not medium. The longevity of those EMAP networks

that focus on markets in comparison to those that focus on medium demonstrates how important understanding consumer activity, not technological possibility, is in this type of

cultural industry.

Analytically, three of EMAP’s community networks recognise how niche markets in

publishing are constructed around particular lifestyle and cultural interests. The EMAP Elan

Network, for example, is a portfolio dedicated to particular lifestyle cultures and the

associated demographics within that grouping. It includes men’s, women’s, ‘youth’ and

fashion magazines titles, such as the Face, Empire, New Woman and FHM. EMAP Health,

and EMAP Automotive include business and consumer titles indicative of their portfolio title.

EMAP Performance Network is a portfolio that manages the organisation’s approach to

music cultures and includes radio (KissFM) and television (The Box, QTV) as well as the

printed music titles published by the group. An accompanying press release that announced

the establishment of the Performance Network portfolio stated that its “objectives will be to

capitalise on the marketing leading positions of EMAP’s various brands in the music business

to fully exploit opportunities across all media” (www.emap.co.uk). This restructuring of the

organisation into networks presents EMAP with an opportunity to “exploit” capital gain, but

is also indicative of a central economic imperative of the new economy – to “amplify

relationships” (Kelly 1998, p.118) with niche audiences rather than continue to address

readers as a large generalised collective.

Although these portfolios reflect the basis of EMAP’s restructure of organisational practices

based on cultural foundations (lifestyles, interests), one portfolio remains focused on medium. EMAP Digital was intended to focus on new media possibilities, whatever they

were, and to look for cross media opportunities that could be gleaned from other networks within the organisation. So, for example, in February of 2001, EMAP Digital announced plans to roll out websites for magazines managed by both the Performance and the Elan network (Emap Boosts Mags Online 2001). Only a month later the plans were shelved with

EMAP claiming “unless a brand had large scale and reach”, it was difficult to make the transition to an online market (Gibson 2002). Interestingly, the sites that were to be launched were based on titles Arena and Elle that indeed had respectable circulation figures. Herein lies the problem of neglecting who/what established readerships represent. The readerships of these titles were established and maintained via content and particular discourses as well as how they ‘use’ the medium of the magazine itself (see Chapter Six). Treating magazine titles as brands led EMAP to a proposition that the values of a brand can be carried over into new media platforms without difficulty. As EMAP discovered, there are important limits to such an assumption. Only in understanding why consumers are using particular media products, and by understanding the different uses by consumers of various mediums, can publishers hope to transfer these established readerships into new environments. Indeed, this was one of the aims of the previous chapter in understanding these uses and appreciating what their effect might be on contemporary music journalism.

In comparison to EMAP, IPC Media’s historical transition to its contemporary publishing practices is more difficult to trace as the corporation has been bought and sold by numerous ventures, most recently by global media conglomerate AOL Time Warner in 2001. Like

EMAP, the contemporary organisation of IPC Media is divided into a number of portfolios that are aimed at specific markets. IPC tx Ltd is considered the television listings portfolio with titles such as Soaplife and What’s on TV being some of the more popular titles. IPC

Connect deals with women’s magazines such as Women’s Weekly and BEME, while IPC Southbank deals with what the organisation has termed the ‘lifestyle market’ and includes

titles as diverse as Family Circle, Your Garden and Expecting Our Baby. Remaining divisions include IPC Country and Leisure Media that specialises in recreational sports,

travel, marine and automotive pursuits, while the recently established IPC Live! is conceived

as the division that concentrates on ‘stand alone events’ and exhibitions (www.ipc.co.uk).

IPC Ignite! is the company’s folio for ‘men’s lifestyle and entertainment’ and it is in this

category that IPC’s music media can be found. The music titles NME and Uncut make up this

division along with the popular ‘lads mags’ Loaded and Later.

The IPC Ignite! portfolio reflects partial fragmentation of music consumption practices. More

specifically, in this network, music readerships are aligned with gender (male) that serves as

one of the ways this network’s collective’s lifestyles and interests are imagined. EMAP

utilises different titles within its music network to speak to different types of readers and

consumers but IPC Ignite’s approach seems to be one where readers are organised less

around consumption peculiarities. This model is also apparent in a smaller market like

Australia. For Australian publishing organisations, monthly music magazine readerships are

imagined as music consumers in a general sense, with little attention paid to the

diversification that could exist within this framework.

Up until 1987 Australian music titles were largely controlled by overseas interests or, in the

examples of Go-Set and RAM, run by independent publishers. However, it was in this year

that an Australian publishing group NextMedia was formed to take over the Australian

licence to Rolling Stone magazine. Since this time its interests and titles have grown so that they now describe their organisation as “a multi-faceted publisher specialising in quality

youth entertainment, music, technology and children’s magazine titles”

(www.nextmedia.com.au). Before restructuring in 2003, the organisation, like its British

counterparts, was divided into networks, but with a focus more on technological possibility

than specific niche markets. For example, Next Publishing is responsible for the

organisation’s magazine titles such as Rolling Stone, Soap World and internet.au. Next

Online was interested in the development of websites for the publishing group, whilst i-Net

Solutions was a consultancy arm of the organisation dealing with “database design and development services to the content publishers and retail merchants”

(www.nextmedia.com.au). Finally, Network Next was an ambitious project; a network dedicated to a portal that linked all the publishing group’s online titles. More specifically, this portal was a community site whereby the intention to create a community of NextMedia consumers was attempted through chat-room and bulletin board functionality.

NextMedia was less a traditional print publishing organisation and more focused on online

content and development up until 2003. Certainly, in an era of globalisation, the growth of

revenue gain through the possibilities of ICTs was pursued by many firms, not just

NextMedia. But the dramatic reversal of business that has occurred within the organisation

while it operated in this configuration also reveals a problem with transferring markets

established through magazine titles over to new media platforms. By 2004, only two network

portfolios remain: Next Publishing and Next Online. While all of NextMedia’s magazine

titles still gather healthy readerships only two magazines have an online presence supported

by the Next Online network. Magazine titles PC Powerplay and Hyperactive both have active websites where their particular audiences/readers, in this instance, game players, can receive regularly updated news, multimedia features and partake in online discussion boards. For these readers the transition to an on-line platform is one that allows the relationship that they have with the titles to be amplified – as it allows them to explore the content that is being discussed in an interactive environment. Comparatively, the closure of the Australian based website for Rolling Stone demonstrates that the readers of the printed version of this title have, perhaps, a preferred mode of media consumption. Like Q and Mojo in the UK, Rolling

Stone is not an information-led title. Nor does it offer a critical framework and content like the NME where ‘newness’ and being up to date with new bands and music releases makes the transition to the Internet all the more appropriate. As this demonstrates, there are notable differences in how particular audiences will consume information. In the case of music cultures and the music press, the lessons learnt from NextMedia and EMAP’s attempts to replicate their music titles online illustrates consumers of monthly music magazines will often show no loyalty to their online component when it does not offer additional content to supplement the information they receive in the printed version.

It seems that publishing group Terraplanet learnt this lesson too late. Before the group’s decent into liquidation at the end of 2002, Terraplanet described its operation as a “multi- media infotainment company” (www.terraplanet.com). The company was founded in 1993 following the launch of their first title, the music magazine Juice, a title intended to cover all genres of music in addition to lifestyle and cultural issues. Within a few years a name change to ‘terraplanet.com’ indicated a reflection of the optimism fuelled by the ‘dotcom boom’. The company’s charter was to “leverage its offline magazine content and brands to create new and dynamic youth and entertainment website networks” (ibid.) and it began this process by

launching the online version of Juice. Following on from the initial success of the printed

version of Juice, Terraplanet increased its publication stable by launching Monument

(architecture and design), and purchasing Australian Style (fashion & lifestyle) as well as two titles franchised from the BBC – Bob the Builder Magazine and The Tweenies. Following the dotcom crash, and to “reduce uncertainty about the company’s prime operations” (Brown

2000), Terraplanet dropped the ‘.com’ from its name, but this did not stop the organisation from investing considerably in attempting to extend their magazine audiences to their website counterparts. Analysis of the site undertaken at the beginning of 2001 found that Juice.net had approximately eight channels of audio, multi media options, email services, its own editorial staff and content designed specifically for the site. Yet, by the end of the year, the site, along with other sites attributed to the group, had all become dormant.

The end of 2002 found Terraplanet placed into liquidation with accumulated losses of over

$Au26 million (Jackson 2002). Like NextMedia, Terraplanet’s directors have never revealed

or discussed what problems they encountered in their aim to blend publishing markets with

new media platforms. When interviewed for this project, the then director of the company,

Toby Cresswell, admitted that all of their new media ventures were paid for solely out of the

publishing revenue, indicating an impossible financial situation. Yet, in the context of this

thesis, the lessons learned from Terraplanet’s woes are represented by the failure of Juice.net.

Magazine readerships, in this instance a culture of music consumers, will not necessarily seek

content from new media environments. EMAP online employee Paul Dunoyer, interviewed

for this research, explained this in terms of “sit up/sit back” approach to media consumption (see also Chapter Six). His description recognises a distinction between ‘passive’ consumption (television viewing, magazine reading) and ‘active’ consumption that often involves more user input (interactive media, computer use, etc). In light of the failure of

online sites for both Australian music titles and those monthly magazines titles in the UK, it

is possible to reassess this theory of media consumption as it relates to music journalism.

Monthly magazines are the sit back genre – full of feature stories, large review sections,

glossy photographs and little up to date news, that works towards providing an overview. In

comparison, the NME is a weekly publication, with shorter articles, a discursive agenda that

aims to convince and a continued sense of newness. As Chapter Four aims to demonstrate,

the readerships for this title have a more invested link with music consumption and therefore

the journalism contained within its pages. Understanding different titles in this way suggests

readers of the NME can be recognised as performing a type of sit up consumption. This way

of imaging differences amongst readerships of the various titles of the music press provides

another means for understanding why and how some moves to new media environments will

succeed and others will not.

Readerships and Branding: Opportunities, Criticisms

Forde (2001) argues that branding “and brand extensions are undoubtedly the key market

opportunities available to counter the circulation problems facing magazine publishers and editors in the late 1990s” (p.30). Branding, in Forde’s argument, is one of the ways publishers attempt to stop readers from “grazing” across titles in a “promiscuous fashion” (p.29).

Publishers, it seems, are keen to demarcate their market so they can exploit new branding opportunities, but the outcome of this attempt is far from certain. Branding may not stop readers from buying different titles from month to month, but it may contribute to what

Rifkin (1999) has called the establishment of “communities of interest” (p. 109). Rifkin

argues that contemporary businesses work towards identifying communities of individuals

with shared interests and employ what he calls “R-technologies” (relationship technologies)

to maintain this relationship. These “R-technologies” are those which involve a two way flow

of communication allowing feedback to “anticipate and service customer needs on an on-

going…basis” (p.100) with the most promising platform being that of the Internet. For the

purposes of the UK rock music press, this may be problematic. As explained in the previous

chapter, the music press market in one that is understood as being arranged along a genre-

discursive paradigm suggesting a number of different “communities of interests” being

addressed by music journalists associated, in particular, with IPC Media and EMAP. If this is

the case, then different strategies are required in order to “service customer needs”. How and

why particular brand extensions succeed may provide some insight into who is being

addressed by different performances of music journalism.

All music titles published by IPC Media and EMAP have websites. While this particular

appropriation will be explored in greater detail in Chapter Six, it is pertinent to note that Q

(www.q4music.com), Mojo (www.mojo4music.com) and Uncut (www.uncut.co.uk) use the

Internet to extend the brand into a new medium, but offer no new content. Being monthly publications, these titles are not renowned for being information-led, and in comparison to the printed versions, which offer long articles, glossy pictures, extensive reviews, what this medium offers to their readerships is unclear. In contrast to those sites, nme.com was launched in 1996 and has been reported as averaging “one million users a month, [which is] equivalent to 29 million page impressions” (Hodgson and Vickers 2001). The success of the site can be attributed to the historical sign of the NME as a brand and, unlike the other titles,

it is published weekly, has much shorter features and more concise ‘news’ content than its

competitors. Updating their ‘news’ section daily on the site connotes a feeling of continual turnover and a sense of continual ‘newness’ as well as keeping readers of the NME and fans of the genres it covers constantly informed of tour dates, album releases and general gossip.

The NME website stands as an example of a new technology or “R-technology” amplifying a relationship that has been established in another medium. More importantly, in this instance, it suggests that technology can only achieve this when the values associated with the music consumers that make up that readership are enhanced by a move into a new medium. It is these values that require closer examination. For while an industrial/publishing perspective is able to highlight an organisation’s prerogatives, it does not offer any textual evidence to suggest who the implied readers of these music press titles might be and why they might respond to these values.

The idea that music journalism’s relationship with its readers involves some kind of values is

echoed in the example of another brand extension also made possible by new media

technology. QTV is a digital television channel in the UK that plays video requests for

viewers. The format has worked well for titles that promote themselves largely on genre

preferences such as heavy rock title Kerrang! and pop magazine Smash Hits, both of whom

have their own digital channels. Yet for Q the launch of the digital channel is questioned by

those who work for the title:

They’ve got QTV which is supposed to be reflective of the magazine, and of course what sort of person is sitting at home getting on the phone to request their favourite video – is it your average 30-something Q reader? It’s not, it is some 17 year old kid and that is why QTV is all Limp Bizkit videos and Marilyn Manson, and it totally devalues the Q brand having it that way.” (Anonymous 2001)

The argument that extensions like these undermine the relationships embedded in this music

title is echoed by other journalists working for the title. Publishers may use the concept of

branding to be able to “enter new markets that may appear unrelated to…[their] existing business” (Knowles, 2001, p.49), but it seems the criticisms of QTV suggest that what is being dismissed is the complex reader/writer relationships embedded in the product. As a monthly title, Q’s content is made up of feature articles that are often observational and draw upon the familiar sources/techniques of interviewing and spending time with an artist and/or band. Journalist for the title, John Harris, doesn’t see new technologies as a threat to what is achieved in the printed title, but has this to say about the content that is used to justify the extension of the Q brand:

The whole thing with brand extensions is that it doesn’t reflect all of what you do. So QTV, it just shows a load of videos all day, it doesn’t make documentaries. It’s not like Q magazine where Q sends people around the world to do interviews. If you were to take that brand and put in on telly, it would require, for instance, making a two-hour on the road documentary with U2. And they haven’t got the money for it.

Harris is arguing here that the relationship between title and readers of Q is not being carried

forward into this new media environment. So while analysing music journalism and music

titles from a publishing perspective indicates the adaptability of particular performances to

new mediums, the criticisms drawn indicate that further analysis is required to understand the

functions of these performances.

Not all moves by music titles to television have proved controversial, as was demonstrated in

2003 when the NME launched a ‘chart show’ on MTV2’s digital network in the UK.

Broadcast weekly on Sunday nights (then repeated daily) the chart show is again made up of

votes by both NME writers and readers. It is no coincidence that the Sunday broadcast time directly clashes with another UK music institution – the weekly chart countdown on National

broadcaster Radio One. The NME Chart Show works on amplifying the values associated with the ‘non-mainstream’ approach of the printed version (see Chapter Two) by providing an alternative to the ‘mainstream’ Radio One chart show. Unlike QTV, having a one hour show avoids the problem of needing to incorporate content that may sit at odds with the implied values of the title. Additionally, the weekly turnover of artists in various positions of the chart imparts the sense of newness that is so central to the printed version’s content.

Unlike the Radio One chart show which, in 2004, is still compiled from sales figures, the

NME chart show signals a new way of compiling charts that acknowledges new forms of accessing and consuming music such as MP3s. The NME chart show is based on popularity, not sales, and possibly heralds a new form of ‘chart’ that will become more dominant in the future. This format demonstrates it is possible to attract established communities of interests to a new medium, but only when the content offered in this environment can be seen to support, rather than challenge, the relationship it intends to amplify.

Although IPC Media continue to be cautious with expanding their music publications into

new media platforms, EMAP have recently announced plans that capitalise on another

medium central to much consumption of popular music. Although Straw (1997) has argued

that the importance of radio has declined for music consumers (p.63), the advent of digital

radio may soon reverse the fortunes of this once intrinsic form of music consumption.

Though still in early development, EMAP has, nevertheless, seized the opportunities it foresees as being afforded by digital radio by purchasing eight channels from part of the

Freeview Digital TV service (Gibson 2003b). To date, digital stations for music titles Smash

Hits, Kerrang!, Mojo and Q as well as a station affiliated with their celebrity title Heat have all been launched. The longest running stations, Smash Hits and Kerrang! have been recorded as attracting up to 800,000 listeners each (Day 2003), signalling initial success for the move into a new medium. With digital technology allowing music to be consumed via mobile phones, computers and digital television set-tops there are new forms of music consumption taking place outside of traditional and, perhaps, predictable sites. With content of the printed title for Smash Hits and Kerrang! being demarcated along genre lines (pop and heavy rock respectively) it would seem that they indeed stand the chance of amplifying relationships with the particular readerships associated with their titles as the journalism contained within the pages by playing music associated with their preferred genres.

In comparison to the NME, Smash Hits and Kerrang!, Q’s genre boundaries are not so

demarcated and accordingly Q Radio, available globally via the Q4Music site, seems to be

displaying the same tendencies that have been criticised in QTV. Listening to the station’s

content reveals a play list that has more in common with formatted chart-based radio stations, something that does not seem to complement the values embedded in the title. As one commentator noted, “maybe the Emap super-computers had the playlists for Q and Smash

Hits mixed up” (Gibson 2003c). The Chief Executive of EMAP Performance recognises this

problem and comments:

Q radio and Q TV might not necessarily feature the same bands as Q the magazine because it’s a wider constituency, but they will continue to reflect its values (Schoonmaker, quoted in Gibson 2003b).

Values is a notion that is central to the idea of branding, where intangible signifiers attached

to a product are then expanded to other products with a view to increasing consumer revenue.

Whereas in titles such as Smash Hits, and Kerrang! values can be bracketed via genre and the

NME through a combination of a particular critical approach and preferred categories of artists, Q, as brand, is broad in its approach and displays unique-ness only when compared to

its competitors. Q, as the UK’s biggest selling music title, offers EMAP the opportunity to

move audiences into other platforms on the back of what is undoubtedly a well known brand.

However, by appealing, in the words of EMAP, to a “wider constituency”, it seems the

unique relationship between reader and writer, which it writers argue is apparent in the

printed version, is unlikely to be amplified in this new media environment.

Rifkin (2000) argues that it is possible to amplify relationships with niche audiences without

necessarily employing new ICT’s. Indeed what is obvious with the UK music titles under

analysis is what the author calls “lifestyle event marketing” (p.176) which Rifkin argues aims

to imbue the values of an organisation into those of a given niche community. Music titles in

the UK, rather than the organisations responsible for their publication, undertake this role and

they achieve this by employing a format that has been visible throughout the history popular

music – the award show.

Kerrang! and Smash Hits have award events in which readers actively participate through

voting, but the approaches in the UK rock music press titles are different. At the beginning of

the 1990s, the NME launched an alternative to the UK music industry’s award show ‘The Brit

Awards’. The ‘Brit Awards’ are an annual music ceremony held in the UK where industry members and, in certain categories, the music buying public nominate the best albums, singles and artists of the year. NME’s response to this is to call their event the ‘Brat Awards’.

Held at the same time as the ‘Brits’, the ‘Brats’ include categories that are common to all

music awards but the voting is made up from nominations from staff of the publication and

its readers. Much like the lists that are published at the end of year in the NME (see Chapter Four), the ‘Brats’ supposedly impart a canon of artists that stands in opposition to the more

mainstream tastes apparent in the ‘Brits’ and can be seen as another platform for the

articulation of a relationship between reader and writer in the NME. Similarly, the Q Awards seem to impart a sense of eclecticism that seems indicative of what closer analysis of the critical approach and genre focus of the title may reveal. For example, in the Q Awards for

2003, mainstream pop act Christina Aguilera won ‘best single’, 1980s pop sensations Duran

Duran won the ‘lifetime achievement’ award, while former Britpop champions, Blur, were awarded ‘best album’ (www.qawards.co.uk). Like the ‘Brat’ awards, the Q awards are voted for by both the readers and the journalists of the magazine, amplifying and bringing to the fore the relationship that has developed between the two parties.

At the end of 2003, it was announced that Q’s stable mate, Mojo, would also begin to host an

annual awards ceremony beginning in 2004. As the following chapter aims to demonstrate,

the content, the ceremony and the awards themselves have a very different agenda to those

identifiable in Q and the NME. Announcing the launch of the awards EMAP’s press release

states that the:

event will have no more than six recipients on the day and the categories will include The Mojo Icon Award, The Mojo Songwriter Award, The Mojo Classic Albums Award and The Mojo Hero Award (www.emap.co.uk)

Mojo’s approach to its awards ceremony aims to capitalise on the implied values of the

magazine brand. If publishing organisations are to amplify relationships with consumers

based on magazine titles, then the transition into new media platforms is not always a

necessary one. Awards ceremonies such as those listed above stand in direct opposition to the move by EMAP in launching QTV, in that they not only maintain and acknowledge the relationship between reader and writer but they provide another platform for that relationship to be realised. If awards shows can be considered a medium, then, unlike something like

digital television, they are a medium that makes sense to the consumers of popular music

central to the readerships of NME, Q and Mojo.

Rifkin (2000) also notes that sponsorship is another means by which organisations seek to

amplify their relationships with specific communities of interest (p.175), and this is

particularly relevant to music consumers. Specifically, consumers that have an interest in

rock music will often incorporate live performances into their leisure time in the same way

that dance cultures incorporate the attendance of dance clubs. Although sponsorship does not

occur with specific performance venues these deals are most notable in one of the most

visible forms of live music consumption in the UK – summer festivals. For example, Q sponsors perhaps the UK’s biggest summer festival, Glastonbury, while, in 2003, the NME sealed a deal to sponsor the ‘V Festival’, ‘T in the Park’ and both the Reading and Leeds

Festivals. Glastonbury in particular is noted for its diverse selection of acts and has, in the past, included Indie and Alternative acts nestled up alongside established artists such as Rolf

Harris and Rod Stewart and pop artists such as Texas and the Sugababes, making it a useful

realisation of the perceived brand value of the printed title. The festivals sponsored by the

NME, like the magazine, tend to focus more on acts that are considered to belong to the Indie genre of popular music and feature more established artists from this genre as well as numerous newer acts. NME also runs a series of live performances throughout the year, entitled the NME ‘On’ Tour, where up and coming artists are showcased at selected venues around the country. Although the tour has changed its actual title several times in the last decade it nevertheless demonstrates how consumption practices (attending live performances of relatively unknown bands) of readers can be incorporated into organisational practices intended to amplify relationships with music cultures. Sponsoring festivals and, in the NME’s case, putting on a tour, indicate a visual and aural representation of how the dialogue shared between title and reader is imagined. More importantly they acknowledge, in ways the attempts to move readerships online often don’t, how important a recognition of consumption practices associated with these readerships are for the move across various media platforms.

In much the same way as consumption of live music is integral to the readerships and music consumers addressed by the UK rock music press, the purchase and consumption of actual recorded materials is paramount. It is here that EMAP in particular have attempted another move to sell more products to established communities by publishing what they call ‘mini- magazines’ (www.emap.co.uk). Mojo Presents was the first launch of this type. A joint venture with Sony Music, titles in the series involve particular artists such as Mojo

Presents…The Byrds and Mojo Presents…Mott the Hoople. For readers of the Mojo publication who may not be familiar with all of the artists included in the title, these mini- magazines provide a twelve-page guide to the artist’s career and music as well as a CD compiled by the writers of Mojo that include what are thought to be the defining songs of the band.

Similar to Mojo Presents, EMAP launched Q Sounds at the end of 2003 – a 64-page mini magazine and accompanying CD that is available exclusively through music outlet Virgin in the UK (www.emap.co.uk). Featuring 18 tracks from current album releases, the magazine section includes reviews of the albums as well as interviews with the featured artists. This is unlikely to help the printed version shake the ‘consumer guide’ label given to it by its critics, but it does reflect a relationship it has with its readers built on an understanding of music consumption as leisure. This particular example seems to evoke something that is often missing in journalistic and, to a certain degree, academic approaches to understanding popular music cultures. As Shuker (1994) notes, both critics and journalists often “distance popular music consumers from the fact that they are essentially purchasing an economic commodity, by stressing the product’s cultural significance” (p.97). For the large majority of readers of the music press, popular music has a place in their lives through the act of purchasing it. Q Sounds and Mojo Presents not only provide the means by which these publishers can amplify their relationships with their readers but, most importantly, they stand as textual examples of the importance of consumption for readerships of music journalism found in UK rock music press titles.

This chapter has examined the organisations responsible for music press publication in

Australia and the UK to understanding what influence, if any, they have had on the performances of music journalism in the contemporary era. Much like the preceding chapter, it was noted that, particularly in the UK, the fragmentation of a mass market of music consumers was recognisable in the acquisition of new media possibilities that spoke to different consumers of popular music. In the case of EMAP, new music titles were also launched that worked to establish readerships interested in specific genres of music. Within these titles, as established in the previous chapter, particular performances of music journalism exists that are understood to encourage a relationship between the reader, title and writer. It is these relationships that UK publishers now want to amplify. By referring to music titles as brands, a new prerogative is emerging that finds publishers eager to translate these readerships into new media environments. What the analysis of these brand extensions revealed is an inconsistency in consumer and critical acceptance, with the latter often insisting that these moves often taint or devalue the brand.

The two chapters of this section have charted two different perspectives of understanding the evolution of music journalism performances. Chapter Two argued that cultural, political and social changes influenced and changed the discourse of popular music that results in the performance of music journalism undergoing change. This chapter has taken an industry perspective and found that publishers in the UK think of their products as brands, implying a set of values that can be attributed to each of their music titles. What the two chapters have in common is a recognition of the equation between the consumption of popular music and the production of music journalism and consumer music titles.

Publishers are obviously keen to demarcate their products in light of the fragmentation of music consumers as well as publishing imperatives and it seems they are reliant on reconciling performances of music journalism with brand values. While it seems, therefore, that publishers are reliant on different framing for values to make sense, it is necessary to investigate what these values are and how might they differ from title from title.

Additionally, how do these values reconcile with the generic-discursive model outlined in the previous chapter? Of the titles explored in this chapter, the NME, Q, Mojo and Uncut all appear to be interested in the same genre – rock music – as are Select and Melody Maker that ceased publication at the end of 2000. What are the values embedded in these titles and why are some still being published at the expense of others?

The following section aims to explore these questions by taking two case studies of music journalism performances. The following chapter looks closely at the questions raised above by undertaking a close analysis of titles that would be considered as containing the same performances of music journalism under the generic-discursive model. It seeks to uncover what has contributed to their coexistence and, in the case of Select and Melody Maker, their closures. It seeks to understand whether forces at play here are industrial or cultural, or even a combination of both. The following chapter will be influenced by the work that precedes it in that it attempts to understand why particular music journalism performances survive at the expense of others. Chapter Five undertakes its analysis in the Australian mediasphere and suggests a challenge to the possibility of arguing for a unified discourse of music journalism.

SECTION TWO

Contemporary Performances of Music Journalism Chapter Four

Frameworks, Readerships, Brands An Analysis of the UK Rock Press

At the end of 2000, the UK’s oldest music magazine, Melody Maker, ceased publication. At

the same time, Select, a title that was launched in 1990 addressing a similar market, also

ceased trading. Newspaper reports in that country (see for example, Addicott 2000,

Mulholland 2001) reported closures were due to poor circulation figures, but also suggested

that the musical genres (Indie/rock) central to these titles no longer had cultural currency. A

similar situation has occurred in magazines that address fans of the dance genre with Ministry

magazine closing in 2002 and Muzik following in 2003. Like closures in the Indie/rock

market, the reasons cited for the closures of these dance titles were declining circulation

figures linked to the decreasing popularity of the genre (see Byrne 2003, Gibson 2003a).

Although declining circulation seems to be an accurate description, attributing closures to the

declining popularity of a genre may be too general, for as the previous section has

demonstrated, titles are still being published that address consumers of both of these genres.

Using Toynbee’s (1993) framework, Chapter Two demonstrated how the UK music press can

be understood as being organised along a generic-discursive framework with specific titles addressing specific consumers of musical genres and employing an appropriate critical

framework. Whereas this framework is useful for portraying the surface structure of the UK

music press, it may not be sufficient to understand how relationships are maintained between

readers and titles that work within the same framework. This chapter looks at titles that can

be understood to work within a framework broadly defined as the UK rock press and it includes Melody Maker, the NME, Q, Select, Mojo and Uncut, but omits both Sounds and

Vox, which ceased publication in the mid 1990s. This focus then allows the chapter to ask – if

Melody Maker and Select ceased publication due to poor circulation figures attributed to the declining popularity of the genre/s they covered, why then are titles that can also be understood to cover the same genres, such as the NME, Uncut, Mojo, and Q still able to maintain readers? The popularity of a musical genre is a useful starting point to access success and failures in music press publishing. However, this chapter works to build on the generic-discursive framework offered by Toynbee to uncover the means by which different readerships are established and maintained by different titles within a similar genre framework and what, if any, influence this has on the contemporary discourse of music journalism.

This chapter also aims to further explore the concept of branding as it relates to music magazines in the UK and to specifically uncover what terms such as ‘brand values’ might mean in the case of music journalism. As the previous chapter demonstrated, the two largest publishers of music titles in the UK – EMAP and IPC Media – promote their music titles not as magazines but as brands (see Gibson 2002, Addicott 2001, Stamp 1999) and utilise these brands to move into new media platforms. Forde (2001, 2003) argues that this particular strategy has resulted in the “personality” being removed from these titles, and a shift in

“emphasis away from journalists and journalism” (2003, p.118) implying that it is the discursive element that is being abolished in favour of a branded identity. This chapter explores this proposition and argues that it is in fact the critical approach, instigated by the journalism of each title, which allows the relationship between a title and its readers to be thought of as a brand.

A Note on Methodology

In order to understand how varying titles work towards addressing readers interested in the

same genre of music, a methodological mix is explicit in this chapter. Although their

feedback is incorporated throughout the thesis, for the purpose of this chapter interviewees

were asked specific questions regarding the UK rock music press. For example, they were

invited to offer what they understood to be the reasons for declining circulation figures as well as reasons for the closures of both Melody Maker and Select. In addition, these journalists were asked about their titles and how they thought they differed from the competition. Finally, interviewees were asked to comment on what they thought best articulated the brand and/or the brand values of the magazine. Overwhelmingly, in response to the final question, interviewees suggested it was the end of year lists published in each of their titles.

There is a difficulty in coming to analyse media texts such as magazines or, more

specifically, analysing music journalism. Those interested in the latter have done so via

undertaking case studies of particular bands (for example, Pattie, 1999), reviews (for example, Evans, 1998) and there are those who do not specify what case study led them to their particular conclusions (for example, Frith, 1983, Gudmundsson et al, 2002, McRobbie,

1989b). As such, the analysis that follows is to be understood as one of the ways of understanding the music journalism contained within these titles but, according to those

practitioners, it is an important one. Each of the magazine titles under discussion here publish

an annual list that compiles the best albums (and often singles) of the year, with the number

of texts listed varying from publication to publication. The editors and journalists of these titles compile the lists. The end of year lists for Melody Maker, NME, and Select were

collected over a decade (1990-2000), while the lists for Mojo and Uncut were collected from

the time of each publication’s launch (1994 and 1997 respectively). This collection provides

an insight into whether analysis of genre preferences for these magazines is sufficient or

whether it is necessary to uncover further features to understand how relationships between readerships and music titles are established and maintained.

The interviewees contacted for this research were asked about the purpose of the end of year

lists in the titles they were writing for and responded in the following ways:

“it is a very dramatic way of distancing ourselves from Mojo or Q. To be honest I think they have slightly more predictable choices.” (Jones, Uncut)

“I think it is a good statement of intent for the magazine because our top ten is always radically different to everybody else’s – so that really defines our agenda as well.” (Oldham, NME)

“It is certainly one way to set your ‘stall down’ [and] compiling those lists is probably the most democratic thing we ever did…and I always remember them as being my favourite issue of any magazine when I was growing up.” (Petridis, Select)

“They do sell well – people like lists, it’s part of being of consumer of music….I think though everyone voted democratically we used to think, strategically, what is the best thing to do to send out signals as to what sort of magazine it was.” (Harris, Select, Q, Mojo)

“It is sort of like a pub conversation and to a certain extent I guess you can argue that it joins reader and writer.” (Lowe, Select, Q)

“I guess now I think about it…it did represent the paper pretty well because everybody’s opinion had gone into it.” (Bee, Melody Maker)

Three relevant points can be drawn from these responses. Firstly, as Harris and Petridis both

note, for readers of the music press these end of year lists add another textual dimension to

being a consumer of popular music. Indeed, as Lowe observes, it is possible to understand these lists as providing a link between the journalists and the readers of these titles in a way that feature articles and reviews may not. Secondly, as Bee, Petridis and Harris note, it is a

‘democratic’ process, supposedly without editorial interference, and, as such, it provides an

example of journalists being directly responsible for construction of the content within their

relevant title. Finally, as Jones, Oldham, Petridis and Harris argue, the end of year list is understood as a way to differentiate a product from others competing for similar readerships, implying that choice within genre is one of the ways that a relationship between reader and writer is maintained.

It is the last points that are of central concern to this chapter. These end of year lists

contribute to a process of differentiation and it is these differences which maintain the brand

values of these titles. But Forde (2001), in his understanding of the branding of the UK music

press, suggests it is a much more ‘top-down approach’. While the previous chapter noted that

publishers plan their marketing and brand extensions in this manner, this chapter seeks to

challenge the assumption that music journalism itself is not part of the process. For example,

Forde argues that publishers have identified:

their segment of the market and, through the erection and propagation of a monoglottic branded identity, direction and aesthetic (achieved primarily through the constriction of review space and subsequent de-legitimization of the personality writer), attempt…to hold a hegemony over that segment (p.29).

If the end of year lists are an appropriate point of differentiation for these titles, then it seems

that Forde’s “de-legitimization” of the writer is not applicable in this process. For while the

previous chapter agrees with Forde in his observations about segmentation, publishers

intentions do not always resonate with consumers. This indicates another process of delineation taking place. The following demonstrates that it is indeed the writer, and the choices within genre that they make at the end of the year, that contributes to music titles being conceived as brands. What also becomes apparent is that, despite similarities across all

titles, differentiation can be read as occurring in the critical frameworks that accompanies the

selections included in these lists which also originates from the journalists of these titles.

The End of Year Lists – Genre

As a means of compiling information from the end of year lists for the selected titles, list items have been categorised by genre. Analysis reveals genres common to all titles and the categories listed reflect the most often evoked genres. It is important to state that while categorisation of this nature is often arbitrary, the application of particular artists to particular genres is not. For example, US outfit Dee-Lite are classified as dance, US guitar pop band

The Pixies as US Alternative and, while recognising their Scottish base, Teenage Fanclub are classified across all titles under the genre of UK Indie. More contentious may be an artist like k.d lang, who, in recognition of her cross-over from country to more mainstream appeal, has been classified under Other, or, more specifically, MOR/Contemporary. Consistency rather than the specifics of genre is the aim of this exercise.

Table 5 shows a genre breakdown on the albums selected by the NME, Melody Maker, Q and

Select as those thought to be the best of 1990. What is most obvious are those selections that

fall outside of the genre categories included and are instead listed under ‘Other’. For Q, and

Melody Maker over half of the entries are largely made up of acts that fall under the broad

category of ‘pop’ and for this particular year would include acts such as INXS, George

Michael, Pet Shop Boys and Madonna. For the NME, choices that fall outside of the

identified genre categories included Folk (the Pogues, Van Morrison), Rock (Neil Young,

Anastacia Screamed) and Pop (Pet Shop Boys, Depeche Mode). Select’s ‘Other’ category Table 5

1990 End of Year Lists by Genre

NME End of Year 1990

25

20

15

10

5

0 UK Indie US Alt Hip-Hop Dance R&B Other [Source: C90 Go! (1990)]

Melody Maker End of Year 1990

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 0 UK Indie US Alt Hip-Hop Dance R&B Other [Source: Albums 90 (1990)]

Q End of Year 1990

35 30 25 20 15 10 5 0 UK Indie US Alt Hip-Hop Dance R&B Other

[Source: www.q4music.com. Accessed 20/8/01]

Select End of Year 1990

30

25

20

15

10

5

0 UK Indie US Alt Hip-Hop Dance R&B Other UK Indie US Alt Hip-Hop Dance R&B Other [Source: 50 Albums of the Year (1991) includes Pop, Heavy Metal (Slayer, Megadeath), Instrumental (Eno/Cale, Twin Peaks) and

‘Alternative’ music from other countries, in particular Australasia, represented by the likes of

Nick Cave, the Chills and Robert Forster. For Q and Select, Table 5 indicates two titles that, although thought of as being part of the rock press in the UK, demonstrate a preference for genres outside of this categorisation. Comparatively, the NME, although displaying a large number of choices under the ‘Other’ category, also includes 15 albums that can be classified under the genre of UK Indie. Melody Maker too favours more marginal genres, though its choices are divided between US and UK texts within this category.

Perhaps the most contentious of these categories are those of ‘UK Indie’ and ‘US

Alternative’. As Hesmondhalgh (1999) has argued, although the two categories often share

textual features, Indie “was at first a British phenomenon, and is often subsumed under the

category ‘alternative rock’ in the United States and elsewhere” (p.35). Indeed while Indie was

originally labelled as such to denote texts released on independent record labels, it is now an

established way of talking about a sound and/or genre rather than a political/business stance

(p.51). Importantly, the genres of UK Indie and US Alternative are meant to represent

marginal genres in the sphere of popular music consumption. Kruse (1993), employing the

work of Reynolds, argues that it is possible in the UK to understand Indie as being in

opposition to mainstream practices (p.36, see also, Bennett, 2002) while also noting that the

opposition, in an age where multi-national record companies often have ‘Independent’ labels,

may not be a useful distinction. Nevertheless it is important to note that Indie and Alternative

have always symbolically represented a marginal sphere of popular music production and

consumption, and that this notion was constructed in the UK by titles such as the NME and

Melody Maker in the years following on from punk. Symbolically, UK Indie and US Alternative are genres that signify a similar end and the textual differences between the two

are not necessarily explicit. However, noting the two as separate categories may provide a

deeper examination of the choices contained with the end of year lists.

The graphs included in Table 5 paint a map of the UK rock press as one that is further

divided among choice of genre. Both the NME and Melody Maker’s choices seem to

represent the more marginal aspects of popular music consumption in their preferences for

texts that fall under the categories of UK Indie and/or US Alternative. Alternatively, both Q

and Select display choices that are far more eclectic, with no discernable generic preference.

Using this genre framework suggests that these differences can be understood as representing

how titles within the category of the UK rock press can be seen as addressing differing

readerships. In 1990, these figures suggest that the UK weekly rock press (Melody Maker,

NME) was interested in the more marginal aspects of popular music and worked towards

addressing readers with similar tastes. The monthly publications (Select, Q), in comparison,

display a broader choice in listings as well as genres and suggest it was consumers of popular music who also displayed a broad taste in genres that were being addressed by the titles.

Table 6 displays some of the changes that occurred between the years 1990 and 1995. First,

Mojo magazine had joined the category of the UK rock press following its launch in the previous year. 1995 is also understood as the year of the Britpop – a musical movement that found UK Indie, once a marginal genre, achieve widespread mainstream popularity.

Represented by the likes of Blur, Oasis, Suede and Pulp, Britpop became a description of a Table 6

1995 End of Year Lists by Genre

NME End of Year 1995

16 14 12 10 8 6 4 2 0 UK Indie US Alt Hip-Hop Dance R&B Other [Source: That’s the Story 1995(1995)]

MM End of Year 1995

18 16 14 12 10 8 6 4 2 0 UK Indie US Alt Hip-Hop Dance R&B Other [Source: Albums of the Year (1995)]

Q End of Year 1995

30

25

20

15

10

5

0 UK Indie US Alt Hip-Hop Dance R&B Other [Source www.q4music.com. Accessed 20/8/01]

Table 6 continued

Select End of Year 1995

25

20

15

10

5

0 UK Indie US Alt Hip-Hop Dance R&B Other

[Source: Top 50 Albums of the Year (1996)]

Mojo End of Year 1995

14 12 10 8 6 4 2 0 UK Indie US Alt Hip-Hop Dance R&B Other

[Source: www.mojo4music.com. Accessed 21/8/01]

type of Indie music that shared similar thematic concerns in lyrics and style. Former editor of

the NME, James Oldham notes:

The British music press had a high in the mid-90s with Britpop, particularly the NME did well out of it as they were our bands and they became extremely popular and became part of mainstream culture (my emphasis).

“Our bands” refers to those bands that formed the content of the music press in the previous

years and which rarely achieved crossover success and mainstream appeal. But, with Britpop,

these artists found larger audiences and, with these larger audiences, greater attention was

being focused on music journalism, with more readers becoming interested in titles like the

NME, Melody Maker and Select. Indeed, as noted in the introduction to this chapter, journalists reporting on the closure of both Select and Melody Maker were keen to impart that the genre of UK Indie was losing its momentum. More specifically Mulholland (2001) argues

– “if you’re looking for someone to blame, try the false dawn that was Britpop”, suggesting a correlation between the movement’s popularity and the rise and fall in circulation for both

Select and Melody Maker. The differences apparent between the end of year lists from 1990

to those of 1995 confirm this perspective.

Once again there are a large number of listings that fall into category of ‘Other’. In the case

of both the NME and Melody Maker this is due to the artists and associated description failing

to be easily classifiable under a particular genre. For the NME this includes artists such as

Blumfield, Bjork and Scott Walker, and for Melody Maker it includes bands such as Telstar

Ponies, Dubstar, Mouse on Mars and Palace Music. In Q the ‘Other’ category includes artists that can be classified under Rock (Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Rolling Stones), Pop (Cardigans,

Alanis Morrisette) and MOR/Contemporary (kd lang, Wet, Wet, Wet). Much like Q, Mojo’s end of year list seems to defy the genre categories employed for the other titles with close to half of their selections falling under the category of ‘Other’. Yet these choices largely reside

in two genres: MOR/Contemporary (Warren Zevon, Brian Wilson, Aimee Mann) and

Country/Alt-Country (the Jayhawks, Tarnation, Steve Earl). More obvious is a change in the

genre preferences of Select with 20 out of the 50 top albums of their year falling under the

category of UK Indie.

With the NME, Melody Maker, Q and Select all listing 50 albums in this year, closer

examination of the graphs in Table 6 demonstrate a swing for all titles towards UK Indie

except Q. This was a year when the category of Britpop gained cultural currency in the UK

or, as the NME editorial that introduces the end of year list for 1995 wryly notes, it was a:

year when the alternative became the mainstream…[when marginal] bands stormed the charts and stamped out Phil Collins. And what a shame that was. Night, Phil. (That’s the Story 1995, p.22)

While not suggesting these titles were ‘cashing in’ on the Britpop popularity, the quantity or

visibility of UK Indie during this year is what the graphs of Table 6 demonstrate. Certainly

both the NME and Melody Maker had always demonstrated a preference for this type of

music. Select, which had once displayed a more eclectic generic choice, now shows signs of

having more in common with these titles than the other monthly publications, notably Mojo and Q. Indeed Q was keen not to get too caught up in the euphoric rush of UK Indie associated with Britpop. As noted in the introduction to the best albums list, 1995:

was the year Blur locked horns with Oasis and the world - well, Britain - went Britpop™ crazy, but, there was far more musical merriment to be had "in the field", from blues travellers to genre straddlers, studio noodlers to stadium strutters, all human life is here. (1995 Q’s Albums of the Year)

Whereas at the beginning of the decade differences could be spotted between the weekly and

monthly publications along the lines of genre, only Q and Mojo seem to be retaining any sense of difference in comparison to the other three titles. As the editorial from Q suggests,

there was a lot of other music “in the field” that seemed to be falling outside the charter of the

NME, Melody Maker and Select, something the sliding popularity of UK Indie associated

with Britpop in the coming years would make all the more obvious.

Table 7 summarises the end of year lists for 2000 for all of the titles discussed previously

along with Uncut, which was launched in 1997. Like the graphs from Table 6, a

concentration of acts selected from the UK Indie and US Alternative genre is apparent. Table

8 shows the percentage of acts attributed to these genres as a proportion of the overall total of

releases chosen for that year. Only Q and Uncut show a percentage figure less than 50%,

reflecting charters that involve a more diverse range of genres. Also quite apparent is the

commonality between the NME, Melody Maker, Select and Mojo whose choices for 2000

involve a heavy investment in both genres. This analysis shows that a commonality in

preferences by genre existed between these titles, but it does not capture the differences. The

analysis also confirms some of Forde’s (2001, 2003) assertions that at this point in the UK

music press, the market for music journalism is one that is overcrowded. Although this

chapter is not a market analysis there is a relationship to be drawn between an overcrowded

market and the importance of critical framing to be found in these titles. In the face of market

rationalisation some titles are more vulnerable to closure than others. Analysis of this

framing, rather than market analysis, is required to understand why certain titles closed and

others, that are seen to be addressing the same readerships based on genre, remain. Table 7

2000 End of Year Lists by Genre

NME End of Year 2000

18 16 14 12 10 8 6 4 2 0

r ie lk k Alt try he nd Pop Fo I R&B Roc Ot K US Dance U Hip-Hop Coun

[Source: Feelgood Hits of the Year. (2000)]

MM End of Year 2000

20 18 16 14 12 10 8 6 4 2 0 UK US Alt Hip-Hop Dance R&B Pop Other Indie

[Source: Albums of the Year (2000)]

Q End of Year 2000

12 10 8 6 4 2 0

p l Alt ce try op er n ou n P th R&B Rock MOR S u O US ip-Ho Da o UK Indie H C

[Source: www.q4music.com. Accessed 20/8/01] Table 7 continued

Select End of Year 2000

12

10

8

6

4

2

0 UK Indie US Alt Hip-Hop Dance R&B Other

[Source: Rewind: The Albums (2001)]

Mojo End of Year 2000

9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 0

R er die h n t R&B MO O US Alt Dance UK I Hip-Hop Country

[Source: www.mojo4music.com. Accessed 21/8/01]

Uncut End of Year 2000

16 14 12 10 8 6 4 2 0

ie t y d Al op d er n H ntry Folk e th S R&B u MOR O K I U ip- Dance U H Co Com

[Source: Y2K (2001)] Table 8

Percentage of Genre Allocation per Title

TITLE NUMBER OF UK INDIE US APPROX % ALBUMS ALTERNATIVE INDIE/ALT LISTED OF TOTAL NME 50 15 17 64 MELODY 50 19 16 70 MAKER Q 50 11 10 44 SELECT 30 11 9 60 MOJO 25 8 6 56 UNCUT 60 10 15 46

The End of Year Lists – Critical Frameworks

Accompanying the end of year lists for all of the titles under examination is a short

description suggesting why a particular album has been deemed worthy of inclusion in the

year’s best list. By examining these statements, it is possible to tease out further differences

in the publications that work alongside genre choices to create relationships with different

readerships. Although the “generic-discursive” framework discussed in the Chapter Two implies how magazines that look at different genres usually employ different critical approaches, it does not allow us to appreciate how titles interested in the same genres are able to attract different readerships. The following analysis works towards understanding how this process is enacted by examining the critical frameworks employed by each of the titles in justifying their choices in the end of year lists for 2000.

Former deputy editor of the NME, James Oldham, argues that the magazine is about “finding things first” and “setting the agenda”. This became particularly apparent in 2001 as unknown bands first championed by the NME such as the Strokes, the Vines, and the White Stripes

went on to achieve widespread popularity in the UK, the US and Australia (see Chapter

Seven). Oldham also adds:

You should have the courage with your own taste…because if you think that something is exciting chances are people reading that are going to think that it is exciting as well.

This statement suggests a certain confidence in the relationship between the NME and its

readers. Being “first”, “setting the agenda” and having “courage” with your taste, implies a

style of journalism at the NME that encourages judgements to be made without necessarily an evaluative criteria being employed. This is one of the means by which this title creates a relationship with its readers.

From the NME end of 2000 list we have the following pronouncements. In reference to the debut album from At The Drive-In, they argue:

While the US rock mainstream offered big shorts and little brain, hirsute El Paso revolutionaries At The Drive-In proved that America could still be the brave, the bright and the brilliant. (Feelgood Hits of the Year 2000, p. 77)

Kelis is named “the multi-faceted R&B diva of Y2K”; Primal Scream “exciting and relevant”; Marilyn Manson is noted as releasing his most “definitive musical statement to date”; Eminem is “the most fascinating pop superstar of our age” and Super Furry Animal’s latest release “was a sheer artistic success [and] the band’s best album” (ibid, emphasis in original). If these lists contribute to a sense of identity for music titles, then the NME portrays itself as a publication interested in critical judgements that refer to no other criteria than the journalists’ personal preferences. The relationship between reader and writer here, then, seems to be one that is premised on trust, hence Oldham’s assertion about writers having

“courage” in their tastes. Additionally it would seem that it is this courage and its weekly publication cycle that allow the title to “set the agenda” by promoting its tastes over others who may employ a more criteria based assessment to judge the worth of a particular musical text. It is these features that lead to a description of the music journalism contained within the

NME as one that takes itself and the music it/they prefer seriously.

At the end of 2000, both Melody Maker and Select published their end of year lists in what would be their final issues. For Melody Maker, a very different framework to that of the NME is employed to support their choices for the best of that year’s musical releases. PJ Harvey’s album contains “a breeze of better-than-Hole-ever-were guitars”, and UK Indie outfit

Embrace’s potential is described as “Bigger than Oasis? One day” (Albums of the Year 2000, p.84). Another UK outfit, Doves, are described as “Coldplay five years down the line – wearily brilliant, dreamily hungover, with proper songs for the Radiohead fans in mourning”

(ibid, emphasis in original) and US Pop act Daphne and Celeste are like “Abba with a sense of humour and no beards” (p.85). In these examples what is notable is the comparison to other popular music artists as a way of contextualising their choices for the year. It seems to suggest that readers of this title are those with a limited knowledge of popular music history and, as such, all references to other artists are those situated in the contemporary music landscape. Unlike the NME who refuse any such criteria, Melody Maker’s constructs its frameworks via comparative analysis of its listings with bands that have a certain popular music cachet and that, perhaps with the exception of Abba, have been established in the pages of the UK rock music press. “Courage” may be how the NME defines its approach, whereas comparison seems to be how Melody Maker justifies its end of year choices. It is this comparative approach that reveals music journalism in Melody Maker as self-referential – a tactic that relies on referring to artists whose cache has already been established within the pages of the title.

For their list in the year 2000, Select’s choice of texts has much in common with the NME and Melody Maker, though its journalistic approach is closer to the self-referential approach of the latter rather than the ‘courageous’ approach of the former. Canadian band, Godspeed You Black Emperor are understood to “piss all over Radiohead in the Wilfully Awkward

Buggers of the Year stakes” and Coldplay are understood to be “this year’s Travis” (Rewind:

The Albums 2000, p.64). In referring to the last album by US Alternative outfit Nirvana,

Eminem is understood to have released his “own ‘In Utero’” (ibid); UK band Doves mix

“Talk Talk’s avant techniques with a delightful eccentric pop sensibility” and Kathryn

Williams is described as more “Fairport Convention than Beth Orton” (ibid, p.65). Like

Melody Maker, Select’s end of year list displays signs of justification through reference to

other established acts. It too displays a form of self-referential music journalism where it

presumes knowledge generated through its publication history to justify the insertion of new

acts and texts into that journalistic history. With these two titles and the NME all revealing

similar genre choices in their end of year listings, only the NME displays a critical approach

to address its readers that differs to the competition in the UK rock music press.

As previously discussed, Q’s genre choices in their end of year lists are important markers of

difference to the other titles. The accompanying commentaries reveal further points of greater

difference. For example, in describing the third album release from the Foo Fighters they write:

After the ‘Look, I wasn’t just the goofy one in Nirvana!’ debut and the ‘No, really, I wasn’t just the goofy one in Nirvana!’ follow-up, Dave Grohl’s third album with the Foo Fighters finds the band solidifying in line-up and sound (The 50 Best Albums of 2000, 2001, p.91)

Radiohead’s latest album is described as relying on “guitars the way Germans rely on

humour”; UK band, JJ72’s singer “is in possession of a magnificent falsetto that suggests that

a) his trousers are too tight and b) he takes everything in life very seriously” (p.93) while the Bloodhound Gang’s album “is probably unique in containing the only song entirely devoted to rhymes for ‘vagina’” (p.90). Accompanying each of these choices is small section entitled

‘Best Bit’ which highlights what the journalists of this title believe to be the defining moment of a particular text. For example, the “Best Bit” of Madonna’s album ‘Music’ is described as occurring at:

2.57 into Music. Where the outro gets deliriously androidy, [producer] Mirwais sounding like he’s chasing a metallic fly around the studio. (p.93)

The sense of frivolity is apparent in the bulk of the text that accompanies the year 2000 list in

Q. It seems the relationship between the readers and writers of the title is one that is

maintained via tongue-in-cheek humour. It doesn’t take itself too seriously. As such, Q seems

to have more in common with the journalistic approach attributed to the early years of Smash

Hits (see Chapter Two) and stands in sharp contrast to the NME, Melody Maker and Select.

The NME frames its choices through “courage”/conviction, both Melody Maker and Select

revert to comparative analysis, and Q’s approach reveals its difference in its light-hearted

approach. In Q, music and indeed music journalism, is a form of entertainment free from the

contexts of it’s own publication’s and music’s history. This becomes more apparent in

comparison to its other competitors.

When asked about the differences in writing for both Q and Mojo, journalist John Harris

recounts reviewing the re-release of Abba’s albums and the reviews he wrote for both titles.

He says:

The Q thing was all about 70s culture and how in Britain we were all really dazzled about the idea of Europe – people had just started to travel abroad and cooking European food. Sandwiched between the reviews themselves was things about how you would go around to your mates house for tea and their Mum would serve you lasagne –it was also a bit of social history. So it was really music and its context…In Mojo you talk about the musicality, you talk about the inventiveness of Abba’s compositions – the nice thing about Mojo is that you can alert people to certain things, like ‘when the strings come in at 1 min 14 and so on.

As Harris argues, Q doesn’t employ musicological criteria in its relationship with its readers, but a title like Mojo relies on it. This certainly seems to be evident in the critical framework that accompanies Mojo’s selections for the best albums of 2000. Johnny Cash’s America 3 is given top honours for the year, with the author noting that it “easily matches up to anything from Cash's legendary Sun days” (2000 Mojo Albums of the Year). Grandaddy’s album captures the “breakdown of technological society…in a series of melancholy garage-pop laments”; The Magnetic Field’s are compared to “a portastudio Cole Porter”; the Dandy

Warhols are “unified by a humming Kraut-esque guitar drone” and Madonna’s album displays “a blend of left-field electronica and vocally distorted Euro-pop with a country twang” (ibid). Mojo, like Melody Maker and Select refers to criteria outside the text. Whereas

Melody Maker and Select refer to other bands and artists, Mojo more often evokes a sense of musical history and musicality in its approach. Johnny Cash’s “Sun days” refers to a particular recording period in the artist’s career; “Cole Porter” in this context signifies a particular type of song-writing, whilst “Kraut-esque”, “garage-pop” and “left-field electronica” refer to sub genres of popular music. In the above examples, readers of this title are expected to understand the comparisons being provided, suggesting a readership that appreciates some of the more detailed approaches to the historical aspects of popular music.

For Mojo, music is presented in an historical context and the journalism within its pages contributes to the historical assessment of music by ‘educating’ its readers on newer acts using this contextualising strategy. Although comparing the breakdown of genres suggests a commonality with the other titles under examination, analysis of the frameworks accompanying the end of year list in Mojo clarifies this understanding of how titles collected

under the heading of UK rock music press can be seen to be addressing different readerships.

Although containing a broader genre selection in its end of year list, Uncut seems to display a similar critical approach to that of Mojo. The importance of musical history, for example, is revealed in the description of Uncut’s choice of best album for 2000 – Lambchop’s Nixon.

They write:

Nixon puts Lambchop up there alongside Mercury Rev and the Flaming Lips as pioneers of what we might call nouvelle Americana: a re-drawing of its great traditional musics and the creation from those traditions of something vibrant and new and unclassifiable. (Y2K 2001, p.70, emphasis in original)

What is apparent here in the address is an assumption that the readership of this title is

interested in and familiar with the “great traditional musics” with greatness measured in

terms of song-writing and music-making skills. For example, Badly Drawn Boy’s album is

praised for its “sartorial tendencies and the romantic tentative nature of the lyrics”; Steely

Dan has “silken tunes and snapping lyrics”; the Go-Betweens continue to be “regarded as one

of the greatest cult songwriting partnerships of all time” (ibid); Elliot Smith has “muscular,

structured songs with irresistible hooks” and the front man for the Eels reveals himself as “a

truly gifted song-writer” (p.72). “Songwriting”, “tunes”, “structure” – these are descriptive

terms found in Uncut that differentiate from approaches to be found in other titles. But Uncut,

unlike the NME for example, does not appear to be interested in “agenda setting”, rather it is

interested in speaking to a readership that is interested in the more aesthetic aspects of

popular music. Music journalism in Uncut, in comparison to the other titles, can be described as promoting a discourse of the aesthetic rather than the historical, as found in Mojo. Most importantly, Uncut, along with the NME, Q, and Mojo, does not rely on its own internal histories, unlike Select and Melody Maker. This analysis contributes to a deeper understanding of the closures of both Select and Melody Maker in a marketplace where genre is usually understood as being a defining factor in magazine differentiation.

Britpop, Broadsheets, Branding and Magazine Closures

Looking at the critical frameworks employed to justify the end of year choices for the magazines under analysis reveals similarities and differences amongst music journalism contained within these titles. Complementing the map of industrial strategies outlined in the previous chapter, this section argues that these differences create the possibility of enacting branding strategies. Neither Select nor Melody Maker would continue publication beyond the final issue for 2000, in part because these titles displayed a similar genre focus to that of the

NME and Mojo. More importantly, neither embraced the explicit critical approach apparent in other competitors that would mark them out as unique publications. Rather, both Select and

Melody Maker focused inwardly, looking towards other artists within their genre framework to explain the appearance of newer ones. The similarities in genre focus and a lack of distinction contributed to Select and Melody Maker being unable to maintain readerships in a market that was increasingly competitive, with two new titles being launched in the 1990s.

The closures thus can be understood as a result of both textual and industrial reasons. Yet for those working in the industry, there were other considerations that led to the closures and they were related to the culture and the discourses associated with popular music.

Music journalists interviewed in the UK for this thesis were invited to comment on the

closure of Select and Melody Maker and asked what factors they considered contributed to the contemporary performances of music journalism and the music press in that country. Phil

Alexander, now Editor-in-Chief at Q, argues there are two reasons:

Firstly, we have seen a real mainstreaming of music…where bands that were once considered alternative have permeated the mainstream [as such] it is much more difficult to celebrate a musical subculture and make business sense out of that from a publications point of view…The scene they [NME, Select, Melody Maker etc] once celebrated has become the province of the tabloids and the niche areas they are celebrating are getter smaller and smaller.

John Mullen, journalist for Select, Q and Mojo argues:

What happened was Britpop and all the bands that we were writing about crossed over into all the broadsheets and tabloids…Around 1996 it all began to trail off – the Britpop bands sales to trail off and the British music press has tagged all of its currency on it, and as the tabloids had had their fun with it, we had lost the niche that we had once had.

Former editor of the NME, James Oldham argues:

Our music, alternative music if you like, became the mainstream and if you can read about it in the papers then why do you need to buy the NME?

John Harris, former editor of Select and senior writer at Q argues:

Two things happened simultaneously and it was the worst possible combination of stuff. First of all, in 1997 after this huge crescendo that was Britpop and magazines were really selling – [Oasis’ album] Be Here Now comes out and suddenly the party is over [see below section for further details]. And you had all these rubbish groups who I think the public saw through pretty quickly – like Kula Shaker and Cast – the real arse end of it all. Like after the Beatles you get Gerry and the Pacemakers. So sales really drop. At the same time you’ve got the advent of this new thing called branding and the thinking that these music magazines can really go places – like you bring out special editions, have TV stations and radio programs. And I think those two things just squashed the individualism of the British music press – and as a point in fact, what happens next is that half the titles disappeared.

Alexis Petridis, editor of Select at the time of its closure says: Select wasn’t in sales free-fall when it closed, but EMAP didn’t see Indie music as a growth market – and they’re quite right. No matter what we did with Select it was already dead in the water…people always associated it with Britpop. People knew what it was about, so it had a strong brand really, just the wrong one.

The above opens up three further points relevant to the closure of Select and Melody Maker and also generates an insight into the structure of the contemporary UK rock music press.

First, Britpop led to Indie/Alternative music gaining a wider audience, taking it into a mainstream musical arena – a process of recuperation (Hebdige, 1979, p.97) that works against the ideals of Indie/Alternative discourses. Secondly, this resulted in non-music publications such as daily tabloids, broadsheets and celebrity magazines in the UK running more music based features based on genres and bands that were once the preserve of

specialist music press titles. The increased pressure to differentiate titles in a crowded market meant that only the strongest brands could sustain ongoing support from investors, advertisers and readers. In order to explore these insights it is necessary to go beyond genre

and critical framing and to look at the changes that occurred to the UK rock press leading up to the end of 2000 when Select and Melody Maker ceased publication. Specifically, events

occurring outside the pages of these publications need to be taken into account.

The Effect of Britpop

1994 to 1997 was the period when a particular strand of UK Indie music achieved widespread

success. As the above 1995 polls demonstrated, the quantity of music being produced and

released in this genre resulted in the NME, Select, Melody Maker and Mojo aligning

themselves increasingly with UK Indie and its associated fans. In the words of Phil

Alexander, quoted above, the fans of this music can be described as a musical “subculture”.

With the traditional meaning of subculture involving a notion of resistance (see Hall and Jefferson 1976) recent understanding have posited these collectives as those who share

musical tastes and are “connected through networks of communication and commerce”

(Hodkinson 2002, p.27). In this configuration, it is possible to identify an Indie subculture in

the UK existing from the mid-1980s when the term was first coined (Hesmondhalgh 1999, p.

35) and used to describe bands associated with independent record labels like the Smiths, and

Echo and the Bunnymen. As Hodkinson notes, subcultures rely on networks of

communication, and the UK music press, in particular titles like the NME, Melody Maker

and, later on, Select, were titles that were central to this process. For these titles of the UK

music press, the Indie subculture made up their niche readership, but this was to be

challenged by the popularity associated with the Britpop movement as the once marginal

genre became increasingly visible.

The UK music press up until the mid-1990s had relied on a sense of marginality in their

content to attract a niche readership that can be understood as an Indie subculture. But this

was to be undermined as Britpop artists who were achieving widespread coverage on UK

radio and television chart show, Top of the Pops, began to receive attention in national daily

newspapers. Exploring this shift in relation to subcultures, Thornton (1995) argues:

disapproving ‘moral panic’ stories in mass circulation tabloid newspapers often have the effect of certifying transgression and legitimizing youth cultures….Approving reports in mass media like tabloids or television…are the subcultural kiss of death (p.6).

The “kiss of death” for the UK indie subculture was a result of a symbolic tussle between two

leading lights of the Britpop phenomenon during 1995. Long antagonistic to each other, and both understood as being contenders for the status of the ultimate British band, Blur and

Oasis released new singles from forthcoming albums on the same day. As speculation rose as

to which single would top the charts that week extensive media coverage erupted with every major newspaper in the UK running sometimes daily stories, and updates being reported on

nightly television news broadcasts in the period leading up the Sunday chart countdown (see

Figure 5). Coverage of this kind had not been witnessed since the heyday of the Beatles and,

as a result of the ‘Blur v Oasis’ story, music features began to become regularly included in

various media outlets. The series of events, also explored in Chapter Seven, shows how the

binaries of marginal/mainstream embedded in the discourse of popular music were being

explicitly challenged by the increasing popularity of this genre of music.

At the beginning of 1995, the NME charted the increasingly popularity of Britpop arguing that the movement:

had binned the sad accoutrements of indie, moved away from being drab, underachieving and ever-so-slightly apologetic – and turned itself into a swaggering conceited creature with its own sparkling aristocracy (Harris 1995, p.8)

Harris himself would later eat his own words in his book which charted the fall of the musical movement; a fall he describes as one which demonstrated that “the pleasures of living at the cutting-edge had been superseded by a troubling existence in the moronic inferno of the mainstream” (Harris 2003, p.367). But more than evoking a binary regarding outsider identity, Harris’ recent work contributes to the case study here by suggesting a direct link between the UK’s culture and society and the fortunes of a musical movement and the press that covered it. More specifically, Harris blames the New Labour Government and Tony

Blair, who, he argues, offered an even emptier promise than Britpop itself. Riding on the wave of a renewed sense of British-ness that Britpop espoused, one of New Labour’s key strategies involved the promotion of UK culture as one that could be described as ‘Cool

Britannia’. Certainly, the Indie subculture had been given its kiss of death by mainstream Figure 5

Examples of ‘Blur vs. Oasis’ Coverage

NME Cover August 2, 1995

From, NME, August 26, 1995

acceptance, and Government support of the rhetoric supposedly attributed to that genre

stamped out any remaining cultural kudos that could be garnered from consumption of that

type of music. It is no coincidence, then, that Harris finds the meeting and subsequent photos

of Tony Blair, Alan McGee (independent record label – Creation’s CEO) and Oasis front-

man Noel Gallagher as the moment that sealed the decline in production and consumption of

this particular genre of UK Indie music.

Britpop, according to those who write for the titles under analysis, contributed to the re-

mapping of the UK music press which itself influences the possibility of arguing for a

congruent performance of music journalism. The niche audience for UK Indie had either

found other outlets of information, such as the UK tabloids and broadsheets, or had

regrouped into even greater niches based on the ‘mainstreaming’ of what was previously

understood to have been a marginal genre. In this environment the UK rock press needed to

rapidly realign itself with a new set of readerships rather than imagining them as being

generally identifiable on the basis of genre, in particular the Indie genre. Here is where the

importance of critical and journalistic frameworks comes into play, for it is these frameworks

that mark differences within titles covering similar genres. And it is this demarcation that

allows titles of the UK music press to be promoted as brands.

The Brands of the UK Rock Press

As the former editors of Select noted above, branding has become a central way publishers of the UK music press understand their products. Indeed the websites of the two publishers of

the titles under analysis speak exclusively of their magazines as brands (see, www.ipc.co.uk,

www.emap.com). The Marketing Director of one of IPC’s magazine divisions argues that in “a media marketplace that is increasingly overcrowded, consistent brand values are critical”

(Solanki, quoted in On The Brand Wagon 2001). Marketing professionals, however, suggest that a brand says very little about the product itself. For example, Knowles (2001) states that the “effect of the brand is to give the underlying asset an appeal over and above what can be explained by the functional benefits it offers” (p.21). He adds the most important equation in branding is “a proposition plus a personality equals a brand” (p.25) and this is as equally applicable for toothpaste, Coca-Cola and Nike as it is magazine titles. At the core of brands is the communication of values, as it is these rather than the product itself that give a brand its meaning. This is one of the functions of genres and varying critical frameworks of the music press – they are the values of the brand.

Employing a cultural studies approach to branding, Frow (2002) argues that “brands have a

‘personality’ because they make use of strategies of personalization (the use of characters, celebrities, direct address) to create something like a signature-effect” (p.71). Although his enquiry is more of a philosophical one that looks at ways of understanding traditional high art culture such as art and literature, his thoughts are nevertheless pertinent here. Making a connection between the artist as auteur and the marketing of high culture, he argues that the

“historical logic of the brand was already implicit in the aesthetics of the signature” (p.72). It is the personality of the signature rather than the acceptance of an auteur approach that is relevant here. In the music press, strategies of personalisation are enacted via the editors and the journalists of the magazines, particularly through their preference for particular genres and the frameworks that accompanies the discussion of the acts and texts associated with this music. Forde (2001) argues that branding has made it “progressively harder to distinguish the voice of the individual [journalist] from the voice of the magazine” (p.40) in the UK music press. But, as the analysis of the end of year polls aimed to demonstrate, the voice of the magazine – the brand – is a result of the collective of individuals working for the title who themselves are self-identifying with that brand. Individual voices may be denied agency, but it is the collection of voices, most explicitly demonstrated in the end of year polls, that act as a signature for a given music press title that, in turn, allows the brand values to be maintained. By examining what remains of the UK rock music press, the process of branding will be revealed as one whereby journalistic content, preferred taste (through genre and associated acts and texts) and frameworks that bracket those preferences that allow titles to address very different readerships.

Frith (1978) in working towards a sociology of rock music argues that music journalism aims to support readers with “a confirmation of taste” (p.155) which confirms the place of genre and selected acts and texts and the role of the end of year lists, in the maintenance of a readership for the music press. He explains this further in his later work by arguing that music journalism’s purpose is “consumer guidance” which relies on taking on board the knowledge of their readers/audience and their “needs and values” (1996, p.68). Frith’s argument here implies that it is possible to understand readerships as representing different types of consumers in the realm of popular music. “Guidance” that acknowledges “needs and values” is something that requires a particular critical approach if consumers are to become readers of particular types of music journalism. As the following exploration of music press brands aims to demonstrate, guidance is couched in different ways to speak to very different consumers of popular music who embody different values in the relation to popular music. NME

Following the demise of Melody Maker, NME is now the world’s oldest weekly music publication. In the UK, the NME along with Kerrang!, which specialises in ‘heavy rock’, are the only music publications to be published on a weekly basis. It is because of this weekly turnaround that the title is continually searching for and promoting acts that are relatively unknown in the wider scheme of popular music and are associated with its preferred genres

(see Figure 6). As noted previously, former editor James Oldham argued that the paper is about “setting the agenda” and “finding things first”. He continues his description by arguing:

NME should be about what is the most exciting thing that week – we serve a purpose because where else are you going to read about new music? Certainly not in Q and probably not in any of the broadsheets.

Former NME journalist John Harris argues:

writing for the NME is all about being opinionated, and that doesn’t sit well in monthly magazines. You can slag off Neil Young, you know, ‘Neil Young, I hate Neil Young with his sideburns and his fucking checked shirts’ – who cares? That’s what the NME does really well and that’s a great read, because you throw the thing away. Monthly magazines people keep, they sit in people’s toilets for a month, and they will go back to it.

Whilst Q journalist Dorian Lynskey argues that the paper:

is still very opinionated and in a very arrogant way…they used to be able to afford to be opinionated but now their musical base is so broad that it is meaningless.

The analysis of the end of year polls confirms the opinions of the music journalists above and imparts an understanding of how the values of the brand of the NME can be understood as opinionated, judgemental without recourse to a set of criteria, and continually in search of new acts and artists to support this approach. Lynskey’s concern that the title’s musical base is too broad to support its strong opinions seemed to be undermined by the tables charting the genres contained within the end of year lists. However, if there has been a shift in the genres being covered within the pages of NME this may well be a result of the Britpop effect and the dissolution of a niche readership based on a particular genre of music. Finally, as Harris rightly observes, being a weekly publication gives the NME a certain disposable feel which, he argues, allows it to be more judgmental and, to a certain degree, flippant in its approach to music journalism.

The relationship between the NME and its readers is one that is based on a sense of newness,

agenda setting and strong opinion. It is these values that define the brand of the title and, as

the publisher’s description quoted in Figure 6 demonstrates, it is these values that they are

keen to promote. If readers of the NME represent a particular collective of popular music

consumers, then they are those that can be classified in a similar way to the values of the title.

The NME’s readership represents a collective of popular music consumers that are interested

in the next big thing in music, why they should like it and, perhaps most importantly, they are interested in being the first to know about it. The NME represents a type of journalism that

takes music and its own approach to music seriously. To this end, it is possible to suggest that

readers of the NME represent consumers of popular music to whom the practice is a form of activity that contributes to a lifestyle or a form of identity in which music and musical knowledge plays an imperative part. NME readers can be described as having a strong investment in the consumption of music.

As the circulation figures in Table 9 show, the NME’s circulation is one that has been in decline since its launch. The appearance of new titles is obviously one of the reasons for this as its circulation peaked when it was one of two (the other being Melody Maker) publications available in the UK in the 1960s. Readers of the NME are those who have a strong investment in music, and the declining circulation figures for the title suggest that those Figure 6

Profile of the NME

Launched: 1952

Publisher: IPC Media

Genre: Alternative/indie rock, marginal acts, some pop, dance

Cover, September 13, 2003

The Publishers says: “NME is the most authoritative weekly music magazine aimed at 15-24 music fans. NME readers use the magazine as a social ammunition because of its mix of news, features and opinionated reviews which set the agenda for young Britain. NME makes its readers feel fashionable because it keeps them up to date with what everyone is talking about in music each week and it tells them about the new and exciting things that are around the corner.” (www.ipc.co.uk) Table 9

NME’s Circulation History

350000

300000

250000

200000

150000

100000

50000

0 1964 1972 1985 1991 2003

[Sources: Frith (1983), Toynbee (1993), Byrne (2003)] classifiable by this description are also in decline. As the journalists interviewed noted earlier in this chapter, the connection between music and lifestyle is no longer as strong as it once was. Accordingly, NME’s service is increasingly becoming a niche one, but a service that is nevertheless unique in comparison to other titles in the UK rock music press.

Q

Of the titles under analysis, Q has been the highest circulated music title in the UK for the past decade (see Table 10). As explained in the preceding chapter, it has also been blamed for a decline in the standard of UK music journalism and is routinely dismissed as a consumer guide. As the analysis of their end of year list for 2000 showed, the title demonstrates a greater variety of genres in its canon of coverage and often employs a humorous approach to writing about popular music. Unlike the NME it rarely displays an interest in ‘setting the agenda’ or ‘finding things first’. Being a monthly magazine it is more reflective than inflective and often situates its approach to understanding the relevance of music in a less than serious manner. One of Q’s journalists says his approach to writing for the title is one where he will:

give an opinion on why it [the artist, the genre] is popular; what this says about music at the moment and what it says more generally about music culture. It definitely has an older readership and you can sum it up by saying it has this ‘raised eyebrow’ approach – ‘what’s going on here’ – it’s quite English (Lynskey).

Another journalist from the title, John Mullen, says:

If I were a consumer I would probably go for Q because I think it has a bit more distance from its subject matter than the others. And that is quite deliberate on Q’s part.

Steve Lowe, who moved to the title from the defunct Select, notes that: Table 10

Q’s Circulation History

250

200

150

p/1000 100

50

0 1989 1991 2000 2003

[Source: Reynolds (1990b), Toynbee (1993), Addicott (2000), Gibson (2000a)] It has this tone of being really arch and distant, wry and understated I guess – those are the sorts of core values that you think you should try and write within.

John Harris admits that the magazine was “predicated at the beginning on being a reliable

consumer guide” which freelance writer David Quantick confirms by noting that the

magazine’s feature articles “tend more to please [the] readers by reflecting what they buy”.

These observations make sense in the light of the analysis undertaken via the end of year

polls. Humour and a sense of distance in critical assessment seem to be very much part of the

appeal of a magazine that does not aim to impart judgements based on the value of a

particular genre. As the publisher’s note (see Figure 7) the magazine is a “music guide” – one

that aims to inform, rather than coerce, the reader by employing observational approach.

The comments by those who write for Q and the analysis undertaken via the end of year polls imparts a title whose values include situating music in a contemporary context and explaining

to its readers (often through the use of humour) why they might want to purchase a particular

album or take an interest in a particular artist. As explained in Chapter Two, the magazine’s

launch in 1987 coincided with the introduction of CD technology and it would seem that this

is the connection the title uses to establish and maintain its readership. The readership of Q

seems indicative of a collective of popular music consumers who are interested in being kept

informed of new releases, new acts and emerging genres without the judgemental approach

of the NME. For the readership of Q, as reflected in the journalism contained within its pages,

we can understand that consumption of popular music is principally a leisure activity and a

practice that connotes a weak relationship to identity and/or lifestyle. Figure 7

Profile of Q

Launched: 1987

Publisher: EMAP

Genre: All Popular Music

The Publisher says: “Independent, authoritative and essential - Q is the UK's biggest selling music magazine and the world's best music guide. The reason is simple - Q gets the interviews and exclusives that no other magazine can. Couple this with the famous Q review section and you've got the only music magazine that you will ever need.” (www.emap.com)

Mojo

Although revealing a similar genre concentration to that of the NME, analysis of the end of year polls for Mojo revealed a very different approach to that title. This approach situated the title as one that was interested in evoking a musical history in discussing contemporary texts as well as including artists in its annual poll that would be deemed too ‘old fashioned’ for a title like the NME. Historical knowledge is the key value than can be attributed to the brand of Mojo, as their former online editor, John Mullen, states:

With Mojo you can assume a certain amount of knowledge – you don’t have to explain who certain people are. I think Mojo writers and readers are quite knowledgeable about music, which is why the review section is almost 100% positive.

Mullen clarifies the above statement by saying that writers for Mojo are usually given reviews and features on bands and/or acts for which they hold a passion and a certain degree of knowledge. John Harris suggests this is one of the few titles where expertise is given the appropriate word count:

With Mojo, you get a cover story and you get [to write] 10,000 words. Journalism isn’t just about a writing style, it is also about talking to people….With more words you can actually do a better job.

Editor of Mojo’s closest competitor (Uncut), Allan Jones, says of his rival that:

I should have been its target reader but I also found it bland – well intentioned, but really benign. They refer to the 60s as this ‘golden era’ which I agree with in many ways, but I am interested in the stories behind the music.

Musical history, longer feature stories that portray the finer details of a given artist or genre and a shared musical knowledge are what creates the relationship between reader and writer for Mojo magazine. Indeed these are some of the features that the publisher uses to differentiate the title from its stable mate – Q. Yet, as the quote contained in Figure 8 Figure 8

Profile of Mojo

Launched: 1994

Publisher: EMAP

Genre: Rock – Historical and some Contemporary

The Publisher says: “Only Mojo magazine takes you to the heart and soul and the outer limits of music, every month. It's for people who buy music - vinyl, cds, new, old, anything…and want to read about music. In-depth, exquisitely written, Mojo leads the way for the music fan.” (www.emap.com)

explains, it is also a title for “people who buy music” which positions the title as a consumer

guide more explicitly than the journalistic approach contained within its pages.

With its nod to music’s history and acts that are often from a previous decade, Mojo’s

readership is obviously quite different to that of Q and the NME. Longer and more in depth

feature articles imply a readership that is more interested in reading rather than persuasion

(the NME) or, in Q’s case, arch observation. Matching journalists to particular groups or

genres for reviews also implies a different equation to that found in the other titles. In the

absence of a rating system common to other titles under discussion, Mojo, according to

Mullen (see above), opts for those with the relevant knowledge to evaluate rather than critically analyse. Mojo is often described as “nostalgic” and aimed at older readers (see

Porter 2004) and it is this group of music consumers that can be understood as representative of its readership. As the circulation figures in Table 11 demonstrate, the continual growth of the title’s readers is indicative of a ‘baby boomers’ form of journalism. Mojo provides content that keeps these ‘baby boomers’ informed of re-releases of classic albums as well as compilation and box set collections that are now becoming a popular commodity in music retailing. As evidenced in the analysis of their 2000 end of year list, the title performs a role of educator in keeping this collective informed of emerging contemporary artists and emerging genres in what are often pre-established canons of taste.

Uncut

Launched in 1997 and helmed by the former editor of Melody Maker, Uncut has, along with

Mojo, consistently returned increasing circulation figures (see Table 12). As the analysis of the 2000 end of year poll demonstrates, its approach to its subject matter has much in Table 11

Mojo’s Circulation History

120

100

80

60 p/1000 40

20

0 2000 2002 2003

[Source: Addicott (2000), www.mediaweek.com (accessed 17/9/01), Gibson (2003a)] Table 12

Uncut’s Circulation History

120

100

80

60 p/1000 40

20

0 2000 2001 2003 2004

[Source: Addicott (2000), www.mediaweek.com (accessed 17/9/01), Gibson 2003a, de Lisle (2004) common with Mojo in that it relies on musical knowledge as a means of making judgements

of particular texts. But the analysis of the 2000 poll also suggested that it often couched its

critical frameworks in more aesthetic discourses of popular music – specifically songwriting and textual structure. Comments taken from two of the editorial staff interviewed for this thesis allow an insight into the brand values of the title. Editor Allan Jones says:

We cover the main sort of legends – I mean the idea behind Uncut was to celebrate the maverick and the deranged which we do to a certain extent – all of our covers are about flash points in music history. But we do the classics, basically because it is still really great music and there are still great stories to be told about it.

Film Editor Michael Bonner agrees saying that the 1960s and 1970s:

is a very interesting period and they are certainly very interesting characters to write about. It is more interesting to write about these people because if not, all you are left with is writing about Travis, or in cinematic terms Brigitte Jones’ Diary.

More revealing however is how the content of the title is relatively evenly split between

music and film. Jones explains the reasoning behind this is that he sees an:

inter-cultural relationship between music and movies, and they have always been great passions of mine. And again [with movies] is that there are so many interesting stories. We do profiles of movies and directors that seem to share the same sensibility as the musicians we cover – there are so many areas where they overlap and mix that we do not need to force the issue.

But according to Bonner this is not the only reason for the title’s success when he notes that

they:

get a lot of letters from people saying, ‘My god, you’ve got so and so, and so and so writing for you and they remember these names from late 70s or early 80s Melody Maker and NME – people like Ian Penman or Chris Roberts….[Uncut] harks back…to a period and a standard of journalism that is all but absent in the music press today.

In the above quotes from Jones and Bonner certain key words emerge that infer the values

that are promoted by the journalism of the title. “Legends”, “characters” and references to

particular music journalists and particular directors indicate a title that is very interested in the aesthetics of the individual – the auteur. Indeed, as Figure 9 shows, publisher’s IPC

recognise this in their description of the title as one that celebrates “geniuses” and their

“lives”, with the editor himself describing the differences between his title and Mojo as: “I

think of them as Spielberg and us as Scorsese” (Jones). Absent from the interviews was any

suggestion of a genre focus for the title, with both interviewees instead keen to discuss why

certain artists (directors or musicians) deserve greater copy than their competitors in the UK

rock music press. It is this auteur inflected approach that is revealed in the references to

songwriting noted in the analysis of the 2000 end of year poll, and it is this approach that

stands as one of the ways the title is able to differentiate itself from Mojo and, indeed, the

other titles under analysis.

Uncut’s music editor, Paul Lester, complains that the title’s competitors believe the magazine

“is only doing well because we have a free CD with each edition”. The free cover mount may

be an enticing factor but, like all of the other titles examined here, Uncut’s increasing

circulation suggests it is speaking to a particular readership. The popular music consumer implicit in the readership of the title could be understood as similar to that of Mojo – the baby boomer. But the title also displays discursive traits that suggest it has found another niche grouping, within this collective, who are more interested in individual personalities (i.e. musicians, directors and music journalists) and what they have to contribute to an understanding of contemporary culture – musical or otherwise. Like the other titles under analysis, Uncut invariably performs the role of a consumer guide, but it does so by employing a critical framework that celebrates the aesthetic. As such, Uncut recalls a type of journalism that was popular in the late 1960s (see Chapter Two) and suggests it speaks to a collective of Figure 9

Profile of Uncut

Launched: 1997

Publisher: IPC Media

Genre: Rock – Historical and some Contemporary

The Publishers Say: “…monthly magazine aimed at men aged 25-44 who are passionate about music. Uncut celebrates the cult and maverick geniuses of music and movies and investigates the unpredictable and unorthodox aspects of their lives and work.” (www.ipc.co.uk)

music consumers who approach their cultural texts in a similar manner, or who were

themselves readers of this type of journalism during that period.

This chapter has built on the approaches in the previous section to develop an understanding

of the performances of music journalism apparent with the UK consumer rock music press. It

has argued that it is necessary to go beyond the “generic-discursive” framework discussed in

Chapter Two in order to understand how different titles within a niche framework organised

by genre are able to establish and maintain different readerships. It was argued that these

different readerships are constructed via the use of differing critical frameworks that contributes to the multifarious performances of music journalism within the UK consumer

rock press. Recognising how and why these particular performances have survived provides a

further explanation for the closures of Melody Maker and Select.

The chapter has also elaborated on the observations made in the previous chapter regarding

the nature of music press publishing and the move to branding magazine titles. It has argued

the differences revealed in the above analyses allow publishers in the UK to speak of their

magazines as brands. Each critical approach represents a unique personality for the title and,

as analysis of the end of year polls demonstrates, journalists and the journalism contained

within a title’s pages are critical components of the brand’s personality and values. This is an

important observation for it demonstrates a marketing process that is driven by the producers

of texts rather than a ‘top-down’ managerial scheme implicit in the argument of Forde (2001,

2003). The different approaches of music journalism in the UK consumer rock press speak to

different consumers of popular music and allow music magazines to be thought of as brands.

Without negating the importance of industrial strategies in contributing to the various performances of music journalism, this chapter continued the work of other researchers in this field by acknowledging the importance of influences outside the music press. With the

Britpop movement thrusting UK Indie into mainstream music culture, music press titles were compelled to mark their readership territory by embarking on different approaches to often discuss the same genres and texts. The NME uses its strength of conviction, Mojo performs the role of educator, Uncut recalls the aesthetic approaches of music journalism of the 1960s, and Q wryly observes musical culture. If there is a contemporary discourse of music journalism then, in this case study, it is one that is still concerned with consumer guidance.

But as this analysis has shown, trust between reader and writer is established via different frameworks of critique.

This chapter has presented a particular case study that demonstrates how deeper analysis of

music journalism reveals its role of consumer guidance is one that takes a number of

approaches. These various performances of music journalism, in turn, recognise how music

consumers are not a homogenous mass, rather, readers of the UK rock music press represent

different types of consumers who require different approaches to consumer guidance. The

following chapter continues to explore the function of music journalism, but in another

national context and by focusing on a different medium for its performance. Chapter Five

explores the Australian street press to understand what types of consumer guidance this

performance of music journalism offers its readers. While the chapter is interested in

understanding what factors have lead to this type of music publication being the most

prominent in Australian, it is also interested in understanding whether the local music

media’s role is one that extends beyond consumer guidance. Chapter Five

Place, Timing and Relevance The Case of the Australian Street Press

The preceding chapters have traced how genre is one of the organising factors that contributes to different performances of music journalism existing in the UK consumer music press. Understanding the various critical frameworks underpinning these performances provides a greater understanding of how branding music titles and extending them into new mediums have become such an integral of music press publishing in the UK. As the close examination of the brands of the UK consumer rock press argued, the different performances of music journalism can be seen as addressing differing consumers of popular music seeking consumer guidance. These different approaches work to enforce a sense of loyalty from particular popular music consumers while simultaneously working to reinforce the brand values of the UK consumer rock press.

With a much smaller number of music press titles, it is not possible to examine Australian music journalism in the same way. Australia’s monthly music titles consist of local versions of Smash Hits and Kerrang! as well as Rolling Stone. Because each title serves a different genre (pop, heavy rock and rock, respectively) and employs a different approach to music journalism, there is not the same degree of overlap. Consequently, the map of the Australian music press is one that fits with the generic-discursive observations made of the UK music press in the early 1990s that were outlined in Chapter Two. However, there are other examples of music journalism in this country that illustrate other performances of music journalism that do not conform to any of the models explored thus far. Whereas in Chapter

Four it was argued that within the UK rock press, titles spoke to different types of consumers, the street press in Australia undertakes a similar charter, but is less concerned with guiding consumption than it is with providing guidance at different sites of consumption.

Where the music press titles examined in the last chapter translate globally, this chapter looks more specifically at a form of music media that aims for the exact opposite. Existing in the majority of capital cities, the street press are the most visible example of a music publication in Australia. These free weekly publications are quite different to titles such as TNT and Nine to Five in the UK, that exist more as listings guides covering employment, accommodation and travel with minimal feature length content. The street press of Australia are dedicated to information about music and, like the titles examined in the UK, they too enter into dialogue with their readers as a means of maintaining meaning-making relationships. Whereas UK rock titles employ different critical frameworks to speak to different readers/consumers, the street press in Australia make use of content, rather than framing, to achieve a similar outcome. In Australia, content is constructed around the notion of place and the practices of music consumption that take place in that location.

The Difference with Australia

Chapter Two explored the different approaches to writing about journalism that have been evident in the UK and Australia. It was noted that during the early 1970s, Australia, echoing a similar trend around the globe, had publications, such as Digger, Planet and Revolution, that would challenge the established form of a music magazine by including features on non- musical events. Specifically, these titles were interested in political and social issues and often tied these to musical texts as a means of reworking the pre-existing discursive approaches of music journalism. It was noted that these titles all shared a relatively short publication life that, in turn, suggests a journalistic approach that resonated only momentarily

with readers and, more generally, with consumers of popular music. Politics and popular

music in Australia seemed to be an unwanted match as Douglas and Greeves (1992) explain:

While it might be argued that the rock music of the UK and the US during this period [late 60s, early 70s] was often the music of rebellion, Australian rock and pop remained in the background rather than at the barricades. Listening to what little of it is available in 1991, with an ear to the temper of those times, is a barren experience. It is as though Vietnam, conscription, the counter culture and the moral, social and political changes never happened. (p.111, see also, Homan 2003, p.73)

The authors contend that these moral, social and political changes were not apparent in

Australian rock and pop, but it also needs to be remembered that Australian consumers could

buy overseas material. Additionally, while the authors reviewed in Chapter One note how

music journalism in the US and the UK provided an outlet or forum for these issues, the same is not necessarily so for Australia. For in Australia, “rebellion”, “counter culture” and the

idea of change may not have been generally explicit or prominent in local musical texts or music journalism, but they were being performed elsewhere. A different culture of popular music production and consumption was apparent, and it is this that influences the production

of the most visible form of music journalism in Australia.

It is not my intention to now recount the modern history of Australia, yet several influences

need to be highlighted to appreciate the way a popular music culture and audience has

developed in this country. Firstly, Australia’s history as a colony for convicts is an important

one as it imparts a particular ideological version of what it is to be ‘Australian’. Additionally,

for a particularly large land mass, Australia has a relatively small population, and the harsh conditions of the landscape has resulted in it concentrating in coastal cities. Many competent authors have explored the cultural and ideological significance of these factors concisely (see White 1981, Fiske, Hodge & Turner 1987, Turner 1993, Turner 1994) by demonstrating how

they have informed the cultural products and practices of Australia. So, for example, in

Australian literature and film, anxieties understood to be born from a convict past regarding

dominance from other cultures are played out by evoking myths centred on the bush and

‘Aussie battler’. The bush is the site where these anxieties are often signified. Here it is

‘Australian man’ versus the cruel master (the land) with the play between the two creating a

binary that situates the Australian as (eventually) conquering through adversity. This is also

the meaning behind the popular myth of the ‘Aussie battler’ – a myth that still perpetuates

popular Australian narratives (cultural and political) today. Importantly, both the myth of the

bush and the battler rely on a grander binary opposition that understands Australian identity

as an authentic self in relation to the false, harsh and authoritative Other. This opposition

extends beyond a recourse to Australia’s convict history and imparts a sense of national

identity that imagines itself in opposition not only to the British colonisers but also to other notable powerful Western nations, particularly the US.

These myths and supporting ideologies are important for understanding the way popular

music production and consumption has developed in Australia. In the UK and the US,

popular music could provide the means for expressing dissatisfaction or an opposition to

particular political and social policies. In Australia, following the pop euphoria of the 1960s,

a dominant form of music production and consumption emerged that provided the means for

continuing a symbolic opposition to an imaginary Other. Turner (1992), in noting the

nationalist narratives that have informed Australian contemporary popular music practices

and institutions, notes that some of these include: the battler against the institution, the independents against the multinationals, the grassroots audience against the mass-produced audience, the egalitarian Aussies against the materialists Yanks and so on (p.17).

Yet the author is also astute enough to suggest that it may not be useful to search for these features within popular music texts themselves. Avoiding adding to the unnecessary and relentless search for an Australian ‘sound’ he instead argues that a focus on contexts is a more important function in the cultural analysis of popular music in this country (p.13). It is this chapter’s premise that the most significant context, in relation to understanding the cultural impact of popular music in this country and the influence that this has had on the structure of the music press, is not the industry or the musicians themselves. Rather, it is a place that you would have found many of these people, as well as the local fans of Australian popular music. It is a place of leisure that is central to Australian national identity – the pub.

Happy Hours – Pub Rock in Australia

In their book Myths of Oz, Fiske, Hodge and Turner (1987) dedicate a chapter to centrality of the pub in the Australian lifestyle. Tapping into the ideologies discussed above they note that the pub “offers a release from, and a resistance to, the socially controlled worlds of work and home” (p.20), something Homan (2003) argues has been symbolically embedded since

Australia’s settlement (p.25). The worlds of work and home here can be understood as spaces of authority; comparatively oppressive in the way Other cultures are understood in the figuring of an Australian self. Certainly, pubs have their own rules and regulations, but as a symbolic space it is one whose meaning is derived via its opposition to outside authority.

Obviously, the pub is also a site of leisure, a factor not unique to Australia. How the leisure afforded in this environment and the associated values contained within it became associated with the production and consumption of popular music is specific to the Australian context. The pub as a symbolic space and rock music become united in lifestyle and leisure, and this process is as much one guided by social practices as it is one governed by legislative ones.

While Homan (2003) has succinctly charted how regulatory practices shaped the consumption of popular music in Sydney and New South Wales, others have argued more specifically that it was the liberalisation of liquor licensing laws that contributed to the emergence of pub rock as a cultural and social force in Australia during the 1970s. Cox and

Douglas (1994), in their examination of the history of Australian music, point to the amendment of Victorian liquor laws in 1971 which allowed that state’s pubs to present live entertainment for the first time (p.22). While live music had often been played in pubs previously, the authors marking of 1970s as the pub rock epoch reflects the visibility of this form of entertainment during this period. Importantly though, the amendments to the liquor laws were largely concerned with acceptable levels of noise from city and suburban venues, with an increase in what was deemed an acceptable noise limit sealing the opportunity for more pubs to host emerging local rock bands more often. Cox and Douglas note that pub owners at this time:

who’d been losing customers since the 1950s, realised they could make considerable sums by converting dormant public spaces in their hotels to rock music venues. These spaces, although never designed for large crowds, provided the perfect atmosphere for rock music (p.32).

During this period there was also another cultural shift occurring within the realms of popular music consumption that would lead to the pub becoming the new site for live music.

Suburban dance halls, which had gained popularity through the more conservative ages of the early 1960s, were increasingly becoming scenes of violent disruption, often provoked by local drunks and gangs rather than those in attendance (p.24). As such, music fans began to migrate to city venues where it was live rather than recorded music that was offered for

consumption. This signalled a new culture of listening – where live performance became one of the central means of hearing local rock music. At this point in Australia, local radio was heavily dominated by overseas pop acts, and those interested in exploring either something

local or something outside of mainstream tastes turned to the pub for such an experience. The

increasing numbers attending these venues and the subsequent boom in the cultural force of

pub rock was, according to Homan (2002a), equally a result of other influences in the early

1970s including “corruption, lax policing and blatant failure to observe licensing regulations”

(p.92).

As pub rock became a more entrenched cultural activity, supported in part by greater car

ownership in Australia giving suburban patrons greater mobility (Homan 2003, p.60), the

meanings generated by this pastime became more apparent. In examining pub rock culture,

Fiske et al (1987) note how the symbolic value of the pub – resistance to authority and societal conventions – who also apparent in the values espoused by these performances. They write:

the values it opposes here are not those of Australian society – it’s expressing those – but those of the big, capitalist, American, hype-riddled music industry. The difference between the pub-rock subculture and the society at large is mobilised as a metaphor for the opposition between Australian values and those of other western nations. (p.23, emphasis in original)

Pub rock can be understood as symbolic of the colonial mindset and mythology that was also

being played out in other forms of cultural narratives such as film and literature. In this

instance a binary was constructed that found performers taking on the role of the ‘Aussie

battlers’ with the music industry and mainstream popular music representing the values

understood to be attributed to other western nations. The analysis of RAM magazine in Chapter Two showed how their journalistic approach often employed a similar binary by

setting up oppositions that negatively portrayed the music industry, the mainstream and

America in an attempt to argue for the authenticity of a text and/or artist. So it was for

Australian consumers of suburban pub rock who began to understand the notion of live

performance more generally as the sign of an authentic music experience, in comparison to

mainstream/pop acts largely imported from overseas. With pub rock involving numerous

performers, numerous pubs and numerous audiences across the Australian landscape, it can

be argued this is the beginning of a culture of production and consumption of music that is

centred on place.

Surveying the Melbourne punk scene in the late 1970s, Riley (1992) notes:

Political activism or ‘linkage’ with social issues like Britain’s Rock against Racism gigs never gained currency in Australia. The impulse to campaign for social change was displaced elsewhere, back to already existing forms of Australian working-class rock: to AC/DC, Rose Tattoo and the Angels who had been, for most of the 70s, adequately voicing their fans’ feelings of oppression (p.115).

Riley’s classification of popular Australian rock music as “working-class”, is similar to

Stratton’s (2004) who argues that “the pub rock audience was working class in their attitudes

and cultural understanding of the world” (p.29). These arguments though seem to be in

tension with other theorists who argue that European notions of class cannot be easily incorporated into an Australian narrative (see Turner 1994, Frow 1995). However, what Riley and Stratton seem to imply is that a cultural force like punk, that had found resonance in the

UK, did not take a hold in Australian music culture because other discursive battles were prioritised. The bands Riley refers to in the above quote were all central to the pub rock scene

and, in her observations, she understands them as providing a textual space for a form of

symbolic politics. The practice of these bands, lyrically, was to celebrate the ethos of the Australia pub and, specifically, the ‘Aussie battler’ myth rather than those values necessarily

equated with British working class ideologies. Examples of lyrical themes would include

Rose Tattoo’s ‘We Can’t Be Beaten’, the Angels’ ‘Take a Long Line’ and AC/DC’s

‘classics’ ‘Jailbreak’ and ‘It’s a Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock ‘n’ Roll)’. The

lyrics in these songs concern a call to arms in overcoming difficulties, and these difficulties were expressed, in the above examples, through symbolic narratives of incarceration, working life and pay conditions and breaking into the music industry. In all of these songs the lyrics were not necessarily a call to a particular class; rather they were an expression of a place and its occupants, its ideologies and their identities.

Making a suggestion of the relevance between pub rock and identity, Homan (2003) argues

that:

the Australian pub rock experience…served to distinguish local product in a global market; the renowned ferocity of bands and ‘punters’ provided a distinctive regional characteristic to a local industry built upon an imported cultural form (p.14).

While the author is referring to how pub rock fits into a binary of the global/local, the

distinctive characteristic to which he refers includes the notion of location as a site of

consumption. Here we can see how the symbolic force of pub rock in the recent history of

Australian popular music influences the organisation and performances of music journalism.

Fiske et al (1987), in noting some of the features of pub rock, argue that:

bands develop from the establishment of an audience in one locality or group of localities, and their audience constructs a strong identification between it and the pub in which it started (p.24).

The attachment to locality is an important one as it demonstrates how and why the music

press in Australia takes its contemporary form. In discussing two of the biggest selling music

titles in Australia during the 1980s – RAM and Juke – Brown (1981) notes that although both titles attempted to address a mass readership by including features on local and international, marginal and mainstream acts, they both found their largest audiences in their hometowns.

For RAM this was Sydney and for Juke it was Melbourne. An indication as to why this was

the case is found in the content of both titles, with a section at the end of each paper being a

‘gig guide’ that would advise what tours were occurring nationally. More specifically, these

guides related what gigs were happening in either Sydney or Melbourne. With live music a

central part of popular music consumption during this period, those not living in Sydney or

Melbourne were not being provided with a satisfactory guide for their consumption practices

from the established music press. At this time, Rolling Stone was the only other major music

publication interested in rock available in the country, but as it still largely featured American

content and very little on the local scene, it too was struggling to establish a relationship with

consumers on a national level. The predominance of pub rock as a practice of music

consumption was at odds with titles that had been born out of overseas influences and

approaches to readers. A new medium for consumers of popular music was required.

Thornton (1995), in looking at how dance music is discursively figured, argues that the

history of popular music is one that seeks to continually evaluate the status of ‘live’

performance over that of the recorded text as a means of awarding these performances with a

sense of authenticity (pp.30-51). This was evidently a binary that was at work for consumers

of Australian pub rock who set themselves in opposition to disco in the late 1970s and the

new pop movement of the early 1980s. It is in this environment that the street press was able

to locate itself, solely concentrating on a particular location and the live performances and

events contained within that location. With live music being so central to Australian music

consumption, the street press responded to this cultural impetus by offering a listings-type publication that would keep fans informed less about the subtle nuances and culture that surrounded popular music, but more about where to hear it. Loyalty to location, a factor embedded in the pub rock rhetoric, meant that a national publication would simply be unable to address these differing audiences. Unlike audiences in the UK, the largest part of the music press market could not be addressed along the lines of genre and an associated critical framework. Rather, in Australia during the 1970s and 1980s, of central importance was the concept of place.

The visibility of a pub rock scene and the ideological associations linked with it has

diminished over the years. Though live music is still a popular form of consumption in

Australia, the ideologies embedded in pub rock culture are relatively absent in the culture of

live performances that now take place throughout various locations in Australia. The collapse

of a pub rock culture is often argued to be a result of the closure of venues across the country

(see Johnson 2002, Homan 2002a, 2002b). Yet the picture is a little more complex than that.

For example, the arrival of FM radio in the mid 1980s introduced a new aesthetic in listening to popular music through the popularisation of texts that boosted high production values that were the opposite of those espoused by pub rock. Additionally, the prevalence of music video popularised by MTV and its indigenised equivalent in Australia, meant that Australian bands needed to reconsider their approach to look and style as well as performance. And many did.

For a short time in the 1980s, bands with pub rock roots, such as The Models, Men at Work and INXS, successfully made the transition from local venues to national and international ones. Certainly, while INXS went on to long-term international fame, others who had made the transition now found themselves facing another enemy. In Australia, dance music, the emergence of a rave culture, dance parties and night clubs, had the same effect here as it had in the rest of the world. Challenging how popular music itself could be categorised, the shift

in consumption practices to include dance music and culture should be understood as a

crucial factor in the declining dominance of a pub rock culture.

Several other factors contributed to the decline of Australia’s pub culture. Cox and Douglas

(1994), for example, argue that just as quickly as it allowed its birth, it was the law that

contributed to its decline. They say:

The main culprit has been the law – random breath testing and the enforcement of licensing laws and fire regulations resulting from complaints of overcrowding, noise pollution, post-gig noise on the street, infringement of fire regulations and violation of closing times. (p.34)

Liquor licensing laws were subsequently amended to allow the introduction of poker

machines onto licensed premises in many states throughout the country. Whilst this is often

cited as a major factor for the demise of pub culture (see Johnson 2002, Homan 2002b), it seems to ignore a more complex array of influences. The introduction of pokies, for example, suggests that the attendees of live performances at pubs had actually regrouped elsewhere, in spaces such as night clubs or dance parties, raves and festivals.

What is absent in literature that looks at the changing structure of live venues in Australia is an analysis of the proliferation of music festivals. Each summer the nation is inundated with local rock festivals (HomeBake, East Coast Blues and Roots Festival), international rock festivals (Big Day Out, Livid, Splendour in the Grass), pop (Rumba) as well as a myriad of all day dance festivals (Vibes on a Summer’s Day, Advent*Jah, Ministry of Sound). The continued presence of festivals throughout the year provides an alternative to the pub culture that once dominated Australian music consumption and recognises that consumers of popular music in this country have eclectic preferences in both genre and sites of performance. Yet

there are some explicit similarities between festivals and pub rock with the most obvious

being the importance of location. Although festivals tour around the nation, they are

experienced as they are attended – locally. Pub rock may not hold the hegemonic presence it once had, but live venues still exist in each state of Australia and the presence of a number of festivals suggests that live performance within a specific location is still one of the most important ways of consuming music in the country. It is this framework that leads to the

street press being the most dominant and visible form of music journalism in Australia.

The centrality of location for live music consumption in Australia seems to indicate why

other music titles have had relatively short publication lives. RAM and Juke both folded in the

late 1980s, and Juice magazine, which was launched in 1993, closed its doors in early 2003

after being bought and relaunched by a new publisher. The title’s circulation had dropped

from 25,000 during its year of launch to less than 10,000 (Tasker 2003), indicating a problem

with attempting to address an audience of consumers on a national level. Attempting to

counteract this trend, the title continually changed its critical approach and content so that

“people buying it from month to month weren’t sure of its direction” (Clode, quoted in

Tasker). With national circulation at just over 40,000 (Mathieson 2002) Rolling Stone also

seems to have been having problems resonating with a national audience. In comparison,

street press titles in various cities across the country often offer up audited circulation figures

close to that figure on a weekly basis. Eschewing a national focus is one of the ways the

street press is differentiated from Rolling Stone, but calling this medium the “music press’

bastard child” (Mathieson 2002) infers a sense of lineage between the two mediums that ignores understanding of the street press as another form of music publication and music journalism, one that does not need to be compared to other consumer music titles.

The Characteristics of the Street Press

As noted above, the Australian music media at the beginning of the 1980s consisted of

Rolling Stone, with its largely American content, and RAM and Juke, which were understood to be inadvertently serving their respective hometown readerships via a content that included listings and reviews of local gigs. In this environment, it is unsurprising that the first street press was launched outside Australia’s two largest capital cities. Time Off was launched in

Brisbane at the beginning of 1980 and was intended to serve as a leisure guide for that city.

Its content covered a range of leisure activities including theatre, dining and travel, as well as features on music that were supplemented by an entertainment guide that listed all performances occurring within the city that week (see Connors 2000). By the end of the year, the title’s content was more firmly focused on music, and then, like today, this focus was not limited to a particular genre of music. The motivating force behind Time Off’s content is how and/or why music promotion and consumption relates to the city in which it is published.

This is as equally true for other publications in other capital cities.

In the decades that followed the launch of Time Off, the street press became a common feature of the Australian mediascape with only Hobart and Darwin not being serviced by a local publication. In Adelaide, music listings can be found in Rip It Up, while in Melbourne both Beat Magazine and InPress provide a similar service. Perth has X-press and Zebra, and

Sydney has a range of publications that cover various genres of music as well as serving distinct locales, but, probably, the best known is Drum Media. It is the music-based focus of these publications that allow them to differentiate themselves from other free publications

that are available in most capital cities. The most commonly distributed free media apart from

the street press would be the ‘community newspapers’ that are, for the most part, distributed

by media giants NewsCorp and Fairfax Publishing. These papers, much like the street press,

are interested in place, with community newspapers constructed to speak to a given suburb or shire (see Griffin 2002). So, for example, the Stirling Times covers, among others, the

suburbs of Innaloo, Karrinyup, Tuart Hill and Osborne Park in the city of Perth. Contained

within this publication are a range of community based features that deal with local issues

and personalities as well as classified advertising for the sale of unwanted goods, real estate

and a range of trade services and personal ads. The content of these newspapers is somewhat

similar to that of the street press under analysis, the major difference being that the

community newspapers link newsworthiness with locality on a more micro (suburban) scale

(see Morgan 2001) while the street press’ newsworthiness is linked, via leisure

(music/gigs/clubbing), with locality on a more macro (city/state) scale.

In the past decade the increasing consumption of dance music has resulted in more street

press titles being published. Throughout the 1980s and into the early 1990s, the

predominance of rock as the preferred genre of consumption for Australian audiences

resulted in titles across the country focusing on this genre, but dance music restructured this

textual landscape. A contemporary map of the street press reveals that each capital city will

have at least one title that focuses more on rock music and performance, with dance culture

now having it own dedicated titles. For example, in Sydney Drum Media and Revolver

represent rock music, and dance is covered by 3D World. In Perth, X-Press tends to focus on more rock-orientated genres, and Zebra covers dance culture. The pattern that this map of the street press portrays is similar to the fragmented readerships examined in the previous

chapter. Street press readerships can be further subdivided too, but here it is genre, rather than a difference in critical framing that is recognised as a diversifying agent in a given locality. Yet while genre is able to stamp a sense of differentiation amongst street press in a capital city, examination of the content reveals flexible parameters that often include texts and performers from outside their genre. Generality is important for a free publication, for the wider the audience the greater the share of advertising revenue.

A textual examination of the street press’ content reveals a sense of commonality amongst all

titles regardless of whether they have a particular genre focus. Common to all publications is a ‘news’ section that details forthcoming CD releases and artist tours as well as general information and gossip that relates to local, national and international acts. Mathieson (2002) notes how this is one of the street press’ greatest appeals – its “focus on immediacy” – something which the monthly titles such as Rolling Stone and, until recently, Juice, cannot hope to compete with. The comprehensive nature of the service provided by these free titles is lamented by Juice’s former editor who recently noted that “consumers [have] got into the routine of getting their weekly doses of news and features for free” (Eliezer, quoted in

Mathieson). The provision of such contemporary content is something that was one of the formative duties of weekly music titles such as NME and Melody Maker in the UK, and RAM and Juke in Australia. Although free content no doubt makes the street press attractive to consumers, it is the function they serve, rather than the complimentary cover charge, that makes them a relevant cultural force. This argument stands supported by the distinct lack of street press that attempts to undertake the same task nationally, indicating a music publication’s recognition of how music production and consumption in Australia is based on

locality.

The local address adhered to by the street press is not only apparent in their news items as

these publications also include feature stories pertaining to touring artists or acts about to

release new material. As will be further explored below, all of these stories are motivated by

their relevance to a given location, with genre usually a secondary consideration.

Additionally, all titles carry large review sections that rate singles, albums and live

performances that have taken place within the particular locality the week previous. Towards

the end of these publications, content is given over to other aspects of culture and the extent

of this coverage varies from publication to publication. More than likely content will include

film, television and theatre, with certain publications also running limited or ‘special’

features on new media products, recording facilities and new technology. The commonalities

shared across titles indicate the centrality of leisure to the relationship between the reader and the writer of the street press. Leisure and local consumption practices are what informs the

content of the street press, and it is this address to readers, based on location, that marks its

difference from not only Rolling Stone but also the UK music press titles which are widely

available and consumed throughout Australia.

With numerous street press publications existing in most Australian capital cities, it is beyond

the scope of this project to provide an analysis of each title’s content and approach. However,

using a case study of the Brisbane street press allows a demonstration of a networking

structure that finds the street press extending beyond being providers of music information.

In order to perform this investigation, textual analysis was undertaken to note thematic similarities in the titles, and interviews were conducted with editorial staff of two of

Brisbane’s street press (the third title declined to participate). Mathew Connors of Time Off was asked about the differences between music consumption in the UK and Australia and argued:

Distance and population and those sorts of things have obviously got a lot to do with it but I think that in Australia it is very obvious there is a ‘Brisbane scene’, a ‘Perth Scene’, a ‘Sydney scene’ and so on; so with magazines like Juice, they just couldn’t cover everything by trying to do it ‘nationally’. The way each city is set up with its own scene, with its own bands, and the parochial nature of it certainly comes into it.

It is this difference, argues Connors, which allows the Australian street press to be such a successful endeavour. It is this difference too that Marc Grimwade of Scene argues drives the content of his publication:

Our paper aims to write about what our readers want to read about. The considerations are that it has to do with timing, taste, and I would be kidding myself to say that it hasn’t got something to do with potential advertising revenue as well.

As Grimwade’s publication promotes itself as a dance title, generic preference is something he is keen to allude to in differentiating the product from the other locally available titles. It is important to note, however, that even as a street title that leans towards the dance genre, this by no means defines Scene as it still includes content that features and/or reviews rock genres. But it is the sense of immediacy that Grimwade notes as being of importance here as it refers to a relationship between these titles and the music consumers they address as one that is built around a notion of place. The centrality of place in the street press is not only confirmed by its editorial content, but also by the advertising content that centres on either local venues or new releases being promoted by local record stores and outlets. With advertising itself working to address a particular community via its construction in niche publications (see Théberge 1991), the construction of a local music community and associated consumers within the street press has wider implications than the constructions of readerships in the consumer music press both in the UK and Australia. Although focusing on the Brisbane street press, this model is one that can be applied to each Australian capital where there exists a relationship between the consumption of popular music and place mediated by the street press.

The Brisbane Street Press

Since the early 1990s, Brisbane has been home to three street press publications.

Supplementing Australia’s oldest title Time Off, are the aforementioned Scene and Rave

Magazine (RM). Scene is in its tenth year of publication and views itself as a “distant cousin”

(Grimwade) to its competitors as it has more of a focus on dance music and DJs, although the inclusion of content dealing with the genre of rock suggests that its ‘distance’ may not be as apparent to its readers. Comparatively, RM was formed following an editorial dispute at Time

Off (Connors), and it would seem that the journalists and editors have brought with them the same generic concerns of their former employer as RM tends to focus almost exclusively on rock music. All titles are published weekly and only Scene does not publish audited circulation figures on its masthead each week. Sharing more commonality with newspapers than magazines, all publications are black and white, with each title employing a colour cover usually featuring a photo or image of their main feature story for that week. In 2002, Scene also worked toward further differentiation by employing a glossy colour format for both front and back covers as well as several pages within. Again, like their inclination to dance music, this appears to be less about establishing a particular readership than it does about making an appeal to advertisers – essentially the life-blood of the street press.

Advertising is central to the content of the street press and could lend to these titles the

perception that they are simply advertising revenue gathering exercises. Yet advertising, like

the editorial and journalistic content, is indicative of the relationship between readerships and

the titles themselves. Advertising, like the content, is motivated by its relevance to particular

local readerships, with national or mass appeal advertising all but absent. This is a similar

situation to niche ‘leisure’ publications such as those that deal with, for example, fishing

(Angling Times) or raising ferrets (Modern Ferret), but it is one that also shares common

features with fanzines. Fanzines have been analysed by theorists as a means of demonstrating

alternatives to mainstream media practice and in particular in providing examples of a ‘DIY’

approach to media production (see Farrelly 2001, Haynes 1995). The street press also

provides an alternative to media practice, particularly in relation to the consumer music press.

In the consumer music press, for example, content is arranged via categories of genre and critical approach, and advertising space is sold via demographics related to that address.

Providing an alternative to this, the street press’ content and advertising are motivated by both functionality and relevance to a particular place. It is these two drivers of content that work towards establishing and maintaining a relationship between local music consumers and the street press.

Features – Functionality

Examining a typical selection of feature stories in the various street press titles provides the means by which to demonstrate the importance of functional content in addressing local readerships and local music consumers. Importantly, the editors of Time Off and Scene interviewed for this project were both happy to admit that all their stories are motivated by record company publicity departments or by touring managers (Connors, Grimwade). It is their job, they argue, to act as mediators for this information, to assess whether it will serve a

function for their readers. Functionality, rather than issues of free publicity, is embedded in

the titles’ content and in their relationships with their readerships and publicity departments

seeking free copy. For record companies, the street press provide the means of promoting

new CDs that are about to be, or have just been, released locally. For example, in Time Off’s

issue number 1100, stories on artists include Audioslave, whose album “is out now through

Epic/Sony” (Engleheart 2002); Matchbox Twenty whose album “More Than You Think You

Are is out now through Warner Music” (Eliezer 2002); and Florida act Iron and Wine whose

“The Creek Drank the Cradle is out now on Sub Pop/Stomp” (English 2002). This unabashed

promotional practice has led Rolling Stone’s editor to recently complain that the:

street press are far more part of the music industry than we are. We consider ourselves part of the publishing industry, but all their stories are tied up with record company advertising (Blake, quoted in Mathieson 2002).

Certainly this is a valid point and one that, in the above examples, Time Off makes no effort to hide. Their editor, acknowledging observations such as these, responds that the record companies themselves “respect our integrity, [and] our freedom to say whatever we think” in reviews of their particular products (Connors). Including the name of the record company at the end of a by-line for a story confirms that Time Off, in this instance, do not set out to make claims of journalistic discovery. Here is where the street press differs most from their monthly paid-for competitors. With public relations and the role of publicity embedded in most journalistic discourse, it is only in the street press where examples are found that do not attempt to disguise its sources either by way of framing or simple omission. Journalistic integrity is not the aim here; rather it is a purely functional one. Informing local music consumers of forthcoming and recently released music products is one of the functions of the street press. This task is also a role of the traditional music press both in the UK and Australia. Yet, as the previous chapter argued in relation to the UK rock press, this function is one that is carried out by the different critical frameworks that appeal to different consumers associated with that genre. For the street press no such difference is recognisable – for their function is explicitly apparent in the motivation of content.

The link between live music and consumption of popular music instilled during the era of pub

rock informs a concentration of content in Time Off relating to bands and artists performing

in Brisbane (though often part of a national touring strategy). For example, a story on Pink

(Langley 2002) ties in with her upcoming tour and performance at the Rumba pop festival;

Australian artist Mick Thomas is also given a short piece to coincide with his tour (Porter

2002a) as are Sydney band Cog who are embarking on a short tour of Brisbane (Porter

2002b). Dance acts too are covered in this way – with features on Captain Tinrib (Buckridge

2002a) and Sasha (Buckridge 2002b) who are both on the bill of the dance festival

Advent*Jah. Including pop, rock and dance in the same issue shows how flexible the street

press are, and impart the centrality of functionality and timing as being what is most

important to their place cultures. In this instance, all these articles refer to performances

taking place that weekend demonstrating that street press content, more than anything, must

be functional if it is to capture members of a local music culture that are also courted by rival

publications.

A similar set of content characteristics are notable in Scene. In issue number 461 a feature

story looks at the recording of an album by Rustin Man and Beth Gibbons and notes how “the

album ‘Out of Season’ is available in record stores now through Polydor/Universal”

(McDonald 2002). Similarly, a feature on J Walker notes the “the album, released on Spunk! can be purchased from all good record stores” (Grimwade 2002). More prominent in this title is the number of features given over to artists/DJ’s performing locally in the immediate

future. DJ Cloud, Louis Osbourne, DJ Spen and DJ Ritual are all given varying sized features

in the same issue that explain a little about their style of music, their influences and, most

importantly, details of when and where they are playing. The prominence of touring features,

as opposed to stories that refer to recorded releases, resonates with dance culture on a more

general level. Dance culture itself is marked more by DJs playing live events as well as

compilation CDs such as the Ministry of Sound’s collections rather than solo and or

‘traditional’ band recorded material. So, while genre may inform the construction of a feature

within this particular title, its commonality with Time Off is that its features, too, focus on

functional content for Brisbane’s music consumers. If genre is a factor for the readerships and

consumers addressed by these publications, then it is one that is realised quite differently to

that of the music press in the UK. Unlike the different readerships and consumers explored in

the previous chapter, the evocation of a particular genre in the street press does not invite

different journalistic approaches amongst different titles. Rather, in the street press, it is place

and a sense of immediacy provided by functional content that relegates any difference of

critical framing within these performances of music journalism to a marginal role.

Functional content seems to be the core of RM and the only major difference between it and its competitors is its slimmer size. With a content that shares greater similarities with Time

Off and its preference for rock genres, RM is notable for the large amount of advertising and the number of ‘listings’ that take the place of journalistic content. The ‘news’ section of the title is more developed than the other titles but, apart from local news, the content seems to

be directly plundered from various music websites such as rollingstone.com and nme.com without acknowledgment. Although intellectual property issues might be at stake here, this

approach in RM confirms that the street press’ role is not one of journalistic discovery.

Unlike the contemporary consumer music press, it communicates with its readerships via re-

presenting information obtained elsewhere – whether it has been obtained via record

company publicity departments or other music-based websites. And herein lies a mode of

distinction: contemporary music journalism works by entering into a dialogue with readers

based on particular critical approaches and through providing ‘new’ pieces of information

regarding selected performers through feature articles. The street press is not about critical

approaches, nor is it often concerned with ‘new’ content. As evidenced by content being

motivated by functionality, the street press is a customised publication that is focused on

editing its content to address specific local consumers of popular music.

Advertising – Relevance

The importance of advertising for the street press is paramount. Unlike the traditional music

press they are unable to recoup their expenses via a cover price. Marc Grimwade, as deputy

editor of Scene, admits the title devotes as much effort to obtaining advertising content as

they do regular copy for the publication. The differences between the types of advertisements

that would be found in paid-for music titles in comparison to those found in the street press

reveals some of the assumptions that can be made in tying publications of this nature with

local music consumers. Advertisements in, for example, Q or Rolling Stone can be broadly

defined as targeting a national demographic often based on gender or age, those in the street press signify a level of relevance for a given location. Alcohol, designer clothing and telecommunications are products that are routinely advertised in the monthly music press and, to a certain extent, have a presence, albeit a much smaller one, in the street press. But what marks the street press as different from their competitors is the presence of advertising

by record companies.

When interviewed for this research, the publisher of Juice, Toby Cresswell, said that one of

the problems facing the ideal of a healthy music press in Australia is that record companies

“don’t spend a lot of money on print advertising”. He further claims that record companies

will instead focus on point of sale promotion as well as television and radio advertising rather

than pay for space in a monthly magazine. Cresswell’s observation here indicates that what

record companies are actually interested is a sense of immediacy – with, for example, point

of sale and radio promotion able to be rotated on a regular, often weekly basis. This seems to

be where the street press’ publication frequency pays dividends, with the number of record

company advertisements in especially, Time Off and RM proving to be exceptional. While the

local and national independent record labels will place advertisements to promote their artists

as well as their labels (see Figure 10), advertising for the major record labels is slightly

different. According to Mathew Connor’s of Time Off there have been some marketing cuts

that have affected the number of advertisements that are placed directly by the major record

labels, but the editor notes that:

we still get a lot, usually through [record] outlets like HMV or JB Hifi. HMV might book the ad, but the record company have still paid for it. Record companies probably still use street press more than the glossies because we are cheap and see the benefit of it – they know they are reaching a certain market when they advertise with us.

Unlike monthly publications, the “certain market” that the street press offers to these

advertisers is one that is based on locality and it is then up to those responsible for the advertisement to impart a sense of relevance. Figure 10

Independent Record Label Advertising in the Street Press

From, Time Off, October 2, 2002

Record company advertising in the street press takes the form of using local record outlets as

a means of employing a local address and a sense of relevance. As outlets for popular music

become more nationalised, advertisements of this nature can be understood as mass

advertising that is disseminated amongst local music consumers via the street press. Although

the name of the record company will feature inconspicuously in advertisements of this nature,

it is the brand name of the outlet and their location details that take place alongside the main

copy promoting a particular CD that is of most importance. The promotion of availability is

what is obvious here, demonstrating how advertisements such as these connote a relevance to

the local music consumers they court. The relevance of these advertisements, like the feature

stories that surround them, is that the copy usually involves CD albums or singles that are

being launched into the local market that week. In the case of national retailer JB HiFi, it is

not only recent releases that are advertised as being relevant but also cut-price (see Figure 11)

and heavily discounted offers of chart and/or ex-chart releases.

With the high turnover of musical products being released into the marketplace on a regular

basis, outlet/record company advertisements in the street press are rarely repetitive. For

example, each week giant retailer HMV will promote a different artist, single or album (see

Figure 11) making the street press’ weekly publication complement and reinforce the sense of

immediacy demanded by their marketing program. The problem faced by the monthly magazines attempting to court these advertisers is obvious: record companies wanting

constant turnover seem to be expecting the same in the media outlets they employ for

advertising. And in a publication that is less about genre preferences than it is place, the

coalition between record companies and these outlets can be understood to encourage Figure 11

Retail/Record Company Advertising in the Street Press

From, RM, December 3-9, 2002

From, Time Off, October 2-8, 2002 consumption not necessarily based on preference (genre) but one that is based on relevance

(price and locality).

Record company advertising is not central to the content of Scene. As previously mentioned, this is connected to the way dance culture is imagined, something that this title contributes to in relation to its readership. Recorded output is less vital to the dance culture in comparison to the importance of clubs, dance venues, touring DJs and, more recently, dance festivals. So while all of the street press in Brisbane carry advertisements for local venues, their presence is more notable in Scene. Venue advertising in Time Off and RM invariably relates to what acts are playing at a given venue during the coming week (see Figure 12). These advertisements are about promoting these venues as sites of performance whereas those in

Scene are more specific. Advertisements here will include regular themed nights held at various venues (R&B night, ‘Fresh & Funky Beats’ etc) where it is the theme rather than the venue that is being heavily highlighted either via copy or associated images (see Figure 13).

Additionally, advertisements also centre on coming appearances by visiting national and international DJs and dance collectives. Again, it is the acts/DJs that are the centre of the frame rather than the venues at which they will play. If differences are to be drawn, Time Off and RM provide notice of a vibrant venue culture, while Scene situates Brisbane music consumers amongst national and international consumption patterns. But what they share in common is how these advertisements acknowledge a relationship between reader and publication that is based on locality and is maintained via functionality and relevance.

Whereas music journalisms’ function in the UK takes the form of a variety of consumer guidance texts recognisable by their differing critical frameworks, the Australian street press Figure 12

Venue Advertising in the Street Press

From, Time Off, November 27-December 3, 2002

From, RM, December 3-9, 2002 Figure 13

‘Theme Nights’ Advertising in the Street Press

From, Scene, November 26, 2002

From, Scene, November 5, 2002

and the function its approach to journalism displays, invites a comparison with another media

form.

The Street Press as Community Media?

If the street press is a medium that works on being relevant and providing a specific function

for a given locality, then it is one that shares some of the common features associated with

not-for-profit community media. This line of enquiry works towards a greater understanding

of the journalism of the medium and serves as a means of further exploring the characteristics

of this type of music journalism. My intention is not to deny the valuable place of community

media for marginal and disadvantaged communities, nor is it to suggest that the street press is

anything but a money-making enterprise. Rather, of interest, is the commonality shared in the

perceived relationships embodied by both producers/writers and consumers/readers. In the

case of community media, these relationships are maintained by a sense of relevance for the

community as well as providing a textual space that complements what is offered by

mainstream media. It is these two features that are openly endorsed by the content of the

street press and that work to mark it as a music publication influenced by very different

values and approaches to those publications explored in the previous chapter.

A recent survey undertaken by Forde, Foxwell and Meadows (2002) is indicative of much of

the work that looks towards promoting the functions of community media as a viable and important social enterprise. Specifically discussing community radio, they note that the:

idea of community is bound up in the local nature of news and community service announcements, the role of stations in exposing new and local music talent, and programming that offers a unique broadcasting service (60).

It is these roles and the importance of locality that are shared by the street press in Brisbane and other street press based in specific locations throughout Australia. As noted previously,

all publications in Brisbane carry a ‘news’ section, but each title provides a discreet section

dedicated to local information. Scene has a section called Club Mix which carries the sub-

heading of a ‘comprehensive wrap of the local scene’; in addition to their ‘Info Biscuit’ news

section which covers international, national and local acts. RM too has a more general news

section, in addition to their ‘NewsBeat’, that lists gigs and news relating to what is happening

that week in Brisbane’s music culture. Similarly, Time Off ‘s news section is supplemented

by more genre-oriented news pages like ‘CrossRoads’ that covers local blues, jazz and

country artists, and ‘Subterranean Sounds’ that covers alternative local bands.

Providing relevant news that speaks to a certain community is understood to be one of the founding principals of community media, whether it takes the form of radio, print or television. The street press, which works to address local music consumers, provides the same service by supplying an outlet for news on local artists who would not receive that type

of coverage in a monthly music title or supplementary lift-outs that have become common in

national and metropolitan newspapers. Certainly, in the latter format, there is an expectation that a local newspaper would provide information targeted towards a local audience. The

Courier Mail, Brisbane’s metropolitan newspaper, is indicative of the media structures that exist within this city where ‘local’ radio stations such as B105 and TripleM are owned by a national organisation (Austereo) and The Courier Mail itself is owned by multi-national media group Newscorp. Local ownership does not guarantee local coverage, but the structures of the radio stations, for example, result in little acknowledgement of the local music scene as over fifty percent of programming for weekday broadcast is syndicated around the nation as part of a larger cost-minimising strategy. A similar situation is apparent

in the arts section of The Courier Mail where, each weekend, one or two short pieces on local

musicians take their place amongst syndicated articles and reviews regarding national and

international acts, which are also published in other Newscorp newspapers around Australia.

In comparison, like community media, the street press provides a unique service to a

community of popular music consumers whose recognition as a music culture united by place

is not recognised in the formatting and content of other ‘local’ media.

In Australia there are few avenues by which a local unsigned act can have their music heard

or discussed – a situation not helped by syndicated radio programming. Public broadcaster

TripleJ performs this role to a certain point, but it is community radio stations such as 4ZZZ

in Brisbane, 3RRR in Melbourne and RTR in Perth who are the most avid supporters of

unsigned or independently released local music. The street press in each capital city supports

their role, something that editorial staff for Brisbane’s street press confirm. Editors at both

Time Off and Scene confirm that they feel it is part of their job to take calls from unknown

acts and assess whether there is the means to grant them copy (Connors, Grimwade) either by

a short feature or a review of one of their performances. Time Off has taken their support of

local talent one step further by including a regular feature called ‘Six Pack’. Their editor

says:

Something that I have tried to invest a lot of time in is helping the local scene and trying to really focus on covering local bands. It was one of the reasons that we introduced the ‘Six Pack’ section – six short stories - all of the acts have gigs that week. (Connors)

It is pertinent to note the centrality of live performance as a measure for inclusion. This

indicates the framework in the street press as one that is informed by consumption practices arising from pub rock, a situation Homan (2003) also suggests is visible in the local music

industry itself (pp.165-167). Absent in this promotion of local talent is that which would

include other forms of popular music that do not centre on live performance, specifically pop

music. “Oz Rock Inc mythologies” as Homan (2002a, p.98) refers to the pub rock tradition,

influences what counts textually as being worthy of inclusion. As noted previously, although

the street press is happy to include content on a pop artist if he/she is touring or releasing new

material, the absence of local pop artists is telling. The visible history of a pattern of

consumption based on pub rock has influenced not only the landscape of the music media in this country but also affects what genres of performance are given priority for music consumers addressed by both the street press and community radio. Certainly, this is one of the reasons community radio is understood as offering a unique service (Forde et al 2002, p.60) when compared to mainstream music outlets. But with music, it is the pub rock mythology that allows this to be naturalised in its opposition to pop music.

It is possible to interpret the street press as offering another unique service in comparison to

other media outlets such as national newspapers and monthly music titles. Time Off, Scene

and RM all offer a detailed classified section that pertains specifically to Brisbane (and the

state of Queensland more generally) and, in most cases, relates directly to music based

activities. Among these classifieds are notices for studio and recording equipment hire, CD

pressing organisations, management offices, rehearsal spaces, as well as musicians seeking

other musicians. In the last instance the results have proven fruitful as evidenced by the

extremely popular Brisbane act, Savage Garden, whose two members ‘found’ each other via

a classified advertisement in Time Off. This service is something that is beyond the scope of

national publications like Rolling Stone and local newspapers and radio stations, and is certainly something that local readers of the overseas music press would not be expecting

from their favoured imported publication. These classifieds, along with functional feature

stories and advertising that relates to a specific locale, signify that it is quite possible to

understand a capitalist venture such as the street press as sharing characteristics with those

often located within a community media framework.

Comparing the street press with community media recognises that local journalism of this nature performs a role beyond its prescribed function. In an article that looks at local newspaper journalism, Griffin (1999) argues “journalists’ constructions, perceptions and mediations of space and place will become more specific as local and regional identities assert themselves with the global-local nexus” (p.17). The street press stand as an exemplar of this – providing as they do a comparative textual space for the celebration of the local, whether this is local music, venues, industries and/or music cultures. The street press reasserts the local in the face of an increasing number of global media products and contribute to the construction and maintenance of a local identity/identities. Griffin’s analysis of local/suburban newspapers draws similar conclusions when he argues that the role played within that medium is one that involves “creating, re-creating and enhancing local identities in the great competition to attract national and global capital and kudos” (p.25).

Local journalism, in comparison to that which appears in syndicated/national outlets, contributes to the “symbolic economy of space, place and planning” (p.21) and this is particularly evident in Brisbane. A desire for “capital” and “kudos” are recognisable in the move within Brisbane to recognise and promote its creative economy. The recognition and promotion of particular elements of a creative economy in that city is made possible by local journalistic outlets like the street press.

BrisVegas! The Street Press and the Creative Economy

In the past decade, the city of Brisbane has earned the name ‘BrisVegas’ in recognition of the number of luminous high-rises that have accompanied the city’s huge population surge. But its musical output has certainly undermined many of the associated jibes implied in the label with local bands such as Powderfinger and George proving to be two of Australia’s biggest bands. Additionally, Brisbane acts Regurgitator, The Resin Dogs, Aneki and Darren Hayes

(ex-Savage Garden) all figure prominently across Australian radio in their particular play-list genres. In this city, the success of local artists has once again centred attention on the live music scene – a recall to the late 1970s when audiences for local bands was attributed to pub rock’s visibility.

The Brisbane City Council has now made moves to ‘officially’ recognise live music culture

(as has Newcastle in New South Wales, see Homan, 2003, p.159) and commissioned a report to find links between this culture and implementing policy changes to capitalise on associated economic benefits (Flew, Chang, Stafford & Tacchi 2001). This report concludes that for

Brisbane, music “is central to the ‘night-time economy’ of the city, and attendance at live venues provides valuable economic spin-offs to the leisure, hospitality, entertainment and tourism industries” (p.7). Links made in the report suggest that it is possible to recognise

Brisbane as a “creative city” (see Landry 2000) – an approach to understanding economic activity that values locations for often creative and technological output rather than the old economy outputs of primary industries and manufacturing. For Brisbane, creative musical talent is something that lends itself to an imagining of this description as a creative city. If

Brisbane is a ‘creative city’ based on its ‘night-time economy’, then the enculturation of local music cultures into consumption of live performances draws upon the earlier rhetoric of pub

rock. It is this process that is supported and maintained by the street press in each Australian

city which supports a local street press.

In mapping how creativity within urban areas maintains itself, Landry (quoted in Flew et al

2002) uses the notion of a “soft infrastructure” to describe the “system of associative

structures and social networks, connections and human interactions that underpins and

encourages the flow of ideas between individuals and institutions” (p.30). In Australia, and in

relation to understanding music as a creative practice, it is not the venues or the musicians

themselves who are solely responsible for this infrastructure; acknowledgement needs to also

include the active music consumption culture embedded in that location. The street press is

an essential medium in this equation. It is these publications that continue to recognise this

construction and maintain the relationships necessary for its survival by establishing

connections and networks that include musicians, audiences, venues, promoters and retailers.

This point is made by Flew et al, who note that,

the street press is in many ways a focal point for the Brisbane scene. Not only does it bring local music to the public’s attention, but it also carries crucial advertising space for venues, promoters, retailers, radio stations and both local and international record companies, which in turn use that space to further promote their own artists and live shows. (p.43)

By recognising the importance of local music consumption cultures in this equation, the role

of the most prominent form of music journalism in this country becomes apparent. Local consumers interested in consumption of popular music share a textual space in the street press where advertising, classified notices, feature stories on local acts and gig guides serve as a means of keeping informed on matters that are deemed pertinent to a particular culture.

In this way the street press in Brisbane and other capital cities helps not only reinforce a local identity but aids the maintenance of a “night time economy” and is one of the factors that

contribute to the imagining of a “creative city”. Recognising consumption of popular music

in Australia as being informed by place rather than genre and/or critical framing extends an

understanding of how this particular creative economy operates and how important the role of

the street press is to this operation.

This chapter has argued that in Australia there exists another form of music journalism that is

substantially different to the performances that were explored in the Chapter Four. Whereas

in the UK rock music press readers are addressed via genre and different critical framing, the street press and its approach to music journalism speaks to readerships along the lines of location. In the street press, music journalism acts as a form of consumer guidance for a specific local music collective and also serves as a form of community media that brings together local artists, music industries, venues and audiences. It is this function that allows the Australian street press to be understood as contributing to the establishment and maintenance of a local creative music culture.

This chapter has also argued that a particular approach to the consumption of popular music

in Australia can be traced back to the popularity of pub rock in the late 1970s and the early

1980s. Pub rock, live performance and the recent advent of music festivals in this country has

resulted in music journalism in the street press addressing consumers as those interested in the live performance (both rock and DJ culture) of music. This chapter, then, along with that

which preceded it, has argued that particular patterns of popular music consumption

correspond with different performances of music journalism that speaks to those collectives.

The point of comparison might be that while music journalism is about the creation and maintenance of a knowledgeable community, this community is not always one addressed by

critical frameworks. Different performances of music journalism, influenced by different

consumption patterns, develop their own pertinent frameworks for consumer guidance.

This section of the thesis has been interested in mapping particular performances of music

journalism to understand what factors have contributed to their visibility and survival. The

latter term, as explained in the Introduction is something that is of concern to cultural commentators who understand music journalism as a practice in decline. What this section has demonstrated is how consumer guidance in music journalism is largely influenced by what will often be national contexts regarding the consumption of popular music. In the UK rock press we find a medium that undergoes change and fragmentation in response to a similar transformation in the consumption of that genre of music. In Australia, the dominant form of music journalism is one influenced by not so much a transformation, but, rather, am affirmation of the importance of locality in the consumption of popular music.

While a diverse range of reasons are often cited for the changing nature of music journalism,

the emergence of the Internet as well as the appearance of music journalism in outlets outside of the consumer music press are the most frequently cited threats to the survival of the

practice. What follows then is an examination of these fears by looking at how and where

established performances of music journalism are placed within these new challenges.

Importantly, while this section and that which has preceded it has been implicitly analysed

within national borders, what follows is an unrestricted analysis that uses examples that are

transnational. Using the frameworks established thus far, Section Three seeks to understand

what dialogues take place in these new environments and what, if any, emerging frameworks may tell us about the changing nature of popular music consumption and the changing performances of music journalism.

SECTION THREE

Challenges to Established Music Journalism Chapter Six

Customised and Personalised Communities: The Internet and Online Music Sites

The previous section of this thesis was interested in examining the differing performances of

music journalism in the UK and Australia. Rather than necessarily compare the two nations,

the aim was to show the multifarious approaches embedded in the practice and to argue that

different frameworks are employed to address different consumers of popular music. As

outlined in the Introduction and Chapter One, the disappearance of consumer music press

titles in both nations remains a cause for concern. The aim of what follows is to explore some

of these concerns, with this chapter focusing on specifically on the perceived challenge

offered by the Internet. Obviously, the perceived effects of the Internet is something that is

not restricted to music journalism, with the field of media studies considering the impact of

this new medium on traditional forms of communication since the early 1990s. With large

numbers of people now actively engaging in online activities the future of traditional broadcasting institutions such as broadcasting and print is understood to be in serious doubt.

New research has noted that some of the theoretical paradigms used to understand the

emergence of the Internet and other forms of new media can be understood as contributing to

a ‘media panic’ (see Lumby 1997, Springhill 1998). The Internet, like the introduction of other new media before it, is understood to be a threat to both established systems of communication and the systemic control embedded in those systems.

Analysis of the Internet often reveals its more exceptional features and sites, but investigation

should also be undertaken to consider some of the more ordinary activity occurring online.

As Livingstone (1999) suggests, it is also possible to view components of new media such as the Internet as evolutionary, rather than revolutionary, to better understand and predict

changes in the mediascape. Although she uses the example of television broadcasting to

demonstrate how new media forms often carry with them traces of the old (in this case radio),

we can appreciate the Internet performing a similar role in carrying on and employing

conventions of ‘old’ media rather than supplanting them altogether. Such is the case with the music press where the service offered by their online counterparts works to supplement rather

than overrule their printed versions, particularly so in offering online textual spaces for

readerships hailed in the printed format.

The Internet also offers a challenge to the practices associated with consumption, as well as

new textual spaces for these to take place. Consumption of popular music in particular has

been the most visible change brought about by online technology with the advent of MP3

technology slowly changing established forms of hearing and purchasing popular music.

Having argued in the previous sections that music journalism speaks to different consumers

of popular music, those searching and paying for MP3 files signify a new collective who, too,

may require or wish for a particular form of consumer guidance. One of the ways we can

understand the construction of this guidance on the Internet is how music journalism content

is constructed on online sites. This is a construction that can be recognised as being either

customised or personalised.

This chapter looks at the two central aspects informing the dissemination of popular music information on the Internet – community and consumption. Taking place alongside online

UK consumer music titles (there is no Australian equivalent), official band sites (sanctioned

by record companies) and unofficial fan sites (established by individual consumers) work to establish transnational communities of interest in an online environment. This chapter argues that these sites are poised to embrace the advances of MP3 technology by existing as virtual store fronts for particular readerships and their associated taste preferences, fan communities and more general music cultures. MP3 technology may be revolutionary, but the content and practices associated with Internet sites recognise how it is the continual evolution of different types of popular music consumers that inform new ventures made available by this new technology.

Understanding the Internet through Genre

As a form of communication, the Internet has been spoken of in largely positive terms.

Morris and Ogan (1996) have, for example, called it the “network of networks” (p.39) claiming, at their time of writing, that the medium’s potential for bringing together disparate groups was only beginning to be realised. It is this networking ability that leads to discussions of the Internet as a new medium of communication for face to face communication (Livingstone 1999, p.65) that imparts the potential for interactivity. Kollock and Smith (1999) are indicative of this shift when they argue that these “networks allow people to create a range of new social spaces in which to meet and interact with one another”

(p.3). Email groups, chat rooms, bulletin boards, MUDs and MOOs are examples of a range of textual spaces which provide the framework for these “new social spaces”. Yet for each positive claim made about this medium comes a replay of concerns that were debated in relation to older media platforms. For example, as Kollock and Smith argue, for all the possibilities offered by the Internet, the networks contained within it will continue to

“disproportionately increase the strength of existing concentrations of power” (p.4). Within a media studies framework that looks at the relation between media platforms and power, this is of obvious concern. However, it also omits the possibility that this platform also actually increases the power of those consumers of music journalism who had little or no control over the choice of content that they read. New levels of interactivity for readers of the music press and for fans of popular music are made increasingly possible by the Internet.

Clearly the Internet is not the first medium to have created textual spaces for readership interaction. Digital technology allows interactivity to increasingly become a part of television viewing; print publishing has been leading the way for sometime. ‘Letters to the Editor’ in both newspapers and magazines provide the means for feedback to the editorial team while also creating a textual space for the recognition and performance of a community of readers.

New magazine titles such as That’s Life in Australia, construct content from readers contributing their true life stories. Albury (1997) has recognised a similar trait in those who identify themselves as ‘home girls’ – women who submit naked photos of themselves for publication in titles such as The Picture. In music magazines, readers are able to submit their opinions and feedback to their community via, for example, annual award voting, contesting

CD reviews via the ‘Letters to the Editors’ and, in some titles, submit pictures of themselves with a noted musician and/or band. It is in these examples that traces of activity, routinely observed as occurring online, reveal their history offline. When Livingstone (1999) argues that it is more appropriate to understand new media technologies in an evolutionary, rather than revolutionary, fashion, she is also recognising, “how audiences play a role in both the social shaping of technologies and their appropriation, consumption and impact” (p.64).

Readers of magazines and the music press had been interacting with their products before the arrival of the Internet which has made an invitation to do so in a new environment part of the evolution of these readerships. Just as readers of the music press represent different types of music consumers, the Internet too provides spaces for different types of readerships and/or

audiences. As such, talking generally about a medium should be abandoned in favour of

analysing activity within more specific contexts.

Green (2000) argues that in the same way academics and professionals recognise

broadcasting as being genred, it is time to recognise that the Internet too is made up of

numerous genres. Suggesting television is an appropriate model, Livingstone (1999) makes a

similar argument that it may be “more productive to build theory from studies of particular media as used by particular audiences or users under particular circumstances” (p.65). The medium of magazines, and in particular the genre of music magazines, provides such a possibility for it imparts an understanding of why some readers will make the move online.

Additionally, it also leads to an understanding of the content and design of the websites under analysis. Understanding the Internet as a revolutionary new medium has resulted in a range of publications that deal with how to write and construct content for this medium and particular

Internet communities (see Garrand 2001, Nielson 2002, McGovern, Norton & O’Dowd,

2002, Price and Price 2002). But as Gregory (2004) argues, “many of the guidelines proposed for the web have a long history in print” (p.276) acknowledging the evolutionary aspect of content production offline and online. Her argument is one that works towards practical advice for content creators, yet her observations are relevant to the work here in that she suggests:

it may be more helpful for writers to use genre to compare writing styles. This would involve using communication purpose and form as the basis of any comparison, with the communication medium being secondary. (2004, p.277, my emphasis)

It is the specifics of genre, rather than approaching the Internet as a medium, that is central to

understanding music information sites on the Internet. And, as the following analysis will demonstrate, in the genre of music information it is consumption practices and affiliations

with communities of similar taste that are central to relationships being established and the

dialogues taking place in these online environments.

Content and Design – “purpose and form”

As part of the research for this thesis, former EMAP employer Paul Dunoyer was

interviewed. With a career history of working as a journalist for many of the titles discussed in this thesis, Dunoyer was in charge of EMAP online sites at the time of the interview and

had also overseen the launch of Q4Music.com and Mojo4Music.com. When asked for his

view of the possibilities afforded by the Internet he said:

There are differences in the way people consume differing media. One of the terms we [EMAP] use is there is the ‘sitting back media’ and the ‘leaning forward media’. You read a magazine as a leisure pursuit and you don’t sit at a PC in such a leisurely way. You don’t have the same attention span that you have when you read a magazine – you tend to go to a web site for a specific purpose which is to get a piece of information as quickly and as painlessly as possible. These sorts of things mean that there is no point simply trying to put your magazine on to a web site. You have to extract some sort of ‘kernel’ from that magazine but accept that it is going to come out as a rather different beast when it appears on a web site.

This quote demonstrates the understanding that those in the publishing industry have about

online development. Research undertaken in this area seems to agree with the assertion that

users do not use practices associated with new media technologies to supplant traditional

media consumption practices (for example, see Dillon 1992). Extracting the ‘kernel’ of the

magazine seems to be one of the means by which a printed title can make the transition to the

Internet. In the case of music magazines this means the values that are attributed to the brand

(see Chapter Three and Four). This would include the same journalistic approach found in the

printed title as well as whatever genres are central to its content. As argued in Chapter Three,

it is the NME that seems, at this stage, to have most successfully extracted its ‘kernel’ for an online presence, though it has a distinct advantage. Being a weekly publication it has more in

common with a newspaper with shorter feature articles and a larger news section that aims to

keep a sense of immediacy in its relationship with its readers. It is this form as well as its

‘kernel’ of purpose that is most apparent in its online incarnation.

NME.com was launched in 1996 and was a site that originally consisted of ‘shovelware’; that

is, content from the printed version “reproduced online without modification” (Flew 2002,

p.103). However, in recent years, the site has slimlined its content to make better use of the

immediacy afforded by the medium. This is signified by a scrolling bar of ‘news headlines’ at

the top of the webpage, updated daily to support the site’s tagline claiming it as “The World’s

Greatest Music Service” (see Figure 14). In comparison to other music titles online,

NME.com is the only music information provider to support this daily service that is indicative of its history as a weekly publication rather than providing a different service online. Bite-size pieces of information are characteristic of the NME weekly print edition. So too is the review section which also appears online, although it consists largely of content brought in from the printed version. But distinguishing the review section from its printed counterpart may not be a necessary as the Internet allows a complementary function to appear alongside the reviews. Listed under ‘Features’ are links where users are able to download audio file and video clips that provide the aural and visual accompaniment to the NME’s reviews (see Figure 14). It is new technology that allows for this function, but the artists and bands to be found in this section conform to those that are dictated by the relationships embedded in the printed version. Here, the construct of NME.com, like the printed version, is one that is regulated by the consumption approaches and preferences of the readership it addresses.

Figure 14

NME.com: Home Page and Features Page

Although the sites for Q, Mojo and Uncut are not as content heavy as that of the NME, they can still be seen to incorporate approaches that reflect the values of their respective brands.

Economists, Searls and Weinberger (2000), note that the Internet is able to provide a space:

where people can go to learn, to talk to each other and to do business together. It is a bazaar where customers look for wares, vendors spread goods for display and people gather around topics that interest them. At last and again. (p.80)

The authors’ contention that the Internet can be read as a community based on like- minded consumption is certainly evident in other features common to the online music sites under analysis. Although the notion of vendors displaying goods is most obvious in the online shopping links carried by all of these online music sites (see below), bulletin boards on

NME.com and Mojo4Music.com and feedback links on Uncut’s site are indicative of the

Internet providing a space for a community to “gather around topics that interest them”.

Searls and Weinberger go on to argue that the pre-modern and, indeed, postmodern markets

“are nothing more than conversations” (p.74) and, as traditional communication theory continues to stress, it is likely that these conversations will be bound by cultural conventions

(see Griffin 1997, Littlejohn 1999). For example, conventions that can be understood to guide and contain forms of face to face communication can include grammar, facial expression, use of inflammatory language as well as aspects pertaining to performance of the self (see Wood

2000). Conventions too are central to communication that takes place online via the bulletin boards and included in the websites under analysis. Williams (2003), in looking at subcultural activity on the Internet, calls these conventions “frames of reference” that work to create

“interest-based cultural groups” (p.62). Analysis of the ways these “frames of reference” manifest themselves online supports the assumptions made about how journalism is figured in the printed versions.

Mojo, being a title that is journalistically and canonically organised very differently to its competitors, provides a clear example of how dialogue is afforded by its online site, while being regulated by the frames of reference particular to the printed version. Their bulletin board link (see Figure 15) is called ‘Enlightenment’ and signifies the educational role indicative of their approach to music journalism. It includes, most obviously, a section called

‘Whatever Happened To….’ where readers are able to posit questions to other members of the readership and share in others’ cultural capital. ‘Rare Grooves’ is also indicative of this process, where members of the collective are able to advise how and where other users are

able to purchase particular rare recordings as well as advising what some of these are worth

in the collectors market. Another section, ‘Cult Heroes’, invites users to openly debate the

inclusion and/or exclusion of various artists in their collective musical canon and often

includes obscure artists like Hound Dog Taylor and Terry and the Idiots who are unlikely to

be known to those readers associated with Mojo’s competitors. The values, framing

boundaries and musical preferences attributed to Mojo serve as conventions that guide

communication and relationships within their online counterpart. Although it is new

technology that has afforded these relationships to be realised online, it is the “frames of

reference” established in the printed version that allows these relationships to continue to

make sense in a new online environment.

Launched at the end of 2003, Uncut’s online site (www.uncut.co.uk) does not offer a large

selection of interactive features, but does conform to the “frames of reference” established in

the printed version. Whereas Mojo’s site features a bulletin board, Uncut has a link to ‘Your

Say’ (see Figure 16) where readers are invited to challenge some of the judgments made in

recent editions of the publication. For example, following on from a Figure 15

Mojo4Music.com: Home Page and ‘Enlightenment’

Figure 16

Uncut.net: Home Page and ‘Your Say’ recent feature article on Robert De Niro, readers can have their say on the actor’s greatest

film role. Similarly, readers are asked whether Jim Morrison of The Doors was an “Electric

Performer or Overweight Fool” in light of a recent cover story. ‘Your Say’ also invites readers to comment on the selections for Uncut’s most recent end of year compilation.

Readers may either support the choices made by the journalists or, as is more often the case, argue why certain albums should have been included at the expense of others. In this section of the Uncut site we have a recognition of the equal importance placed on film and music and, in focusing on De Niro and Morrison, a recognition of how important the individual, rather than the contextual, is to the critical approach of the title. Like Mojo, Uncut uses critical and content structures to encourage communication in an online environment.

In looking at the emergence of online communities, Baym (1998) confirms the analytical

observations above by noting that an “online community’s style is shaped by a range of pre-

existing structures” that will include “group purposes and participant characteristics” (p.38).

While these “pre-existing structures” are evident in the above analysis of the sites for Mojo and Uncut, the notion of group purposes is more obviously demonstrated by the bulletin boards on NME.com. As argued previously, NME works towards engaging with a readership who are interested in new, as opposed to established/mainstream music, through strong opinion and agenda setting. This characteristic is most obvious in the bulletin boards on this site which work to demonstrate how purposes and characteristics that have existed offline come to be realised online. The thread ‘Jump the Shark’, for example, refers to an episode of the 1970s television program Happy Days where one of the lead characters, Fonzie, risks his

life by riding his motorcycle over a pool of sharks. Understood as a ludicrous plotline it is

agreed by some that this was the point when the program ‘lost the plot’. The description of the narrative has been employed by many television reviewers when charting the decline of

once popular texts (see, www.jumptheshark.com). For NME readers and site users, the thread

is an opportunity for them to act as surrogate journalist and employ a non-criteria based

judgement, like that to be found in the printed title, by explaining how and why they think a

particular artist or band ‘jumped the shark’. For readers of the NME this is usually when an

act finds mainstream popularity and acceptance. These judgments are also articulated in threads such as the self explanatory ‘Britain’s Best Indie Clubs’; ‘Undiscovered Gems’ where

users will argue for songs, artists, bands and performances that should be considered to part

of their readerships canon of taste; and ‘Bring It On’, a thread that invites users to suggest

who they think are the best new bands, based on either recorded materials or live

performances. Like Mojo’s online bulletin boards, NME.com employs the values that inform the relationships embedded in their printed version to create a new textual space for interaction on their website. It is these relationships established offline that inform and regulate the design, content and the communicative frameworks of these sites. Although these new textual spaces continue to amplify already established relationships, other spaces, common to all of these sites, attempt to recognise and, indeed, capture new forms of consumption practices that are made possible by the technology of the Internet.

Sites of Consumption

Levinson (1999) suggests that as the Internet increases in popularity and usage, the media’s

traditional role of “gatekeeper” is one that is transforming into that of “matchmaker” (p.129).

The author cites the example of online book store Amazon.com where recommendations

beyond the intended purchase are made by both the site’s managers and by other users. This

function is one that online music sites seem keen to develop, particularly in recognition of the advent of MP3 technology which offers new ways of consuming popular music. As Garofalo

(1999) notes, “MP3 holds out the possibility of a business model that links artists directly with consumers, bypassing record companies completely” (p.351) and, as such, the use of this technology has elicited strong responses from those organisations (see Myers 2002,

Healey 2001). With MP3 slowly being adopted by music consumers as the preferred mode of purchasing and playing music, the complete effect this will have on online music sites has yet to be realised. Nevertheless these sites are keen to offer themselves as “matchmakers” in other ways while waiting for MP3 to become the more dominant mode of consumption. In the same way that bulletin boards are couched within the conventions of a relationship established in their printed versions, online shops selling various wares related to popular music usually revert to the same practice. Although the online site for Uncut only offers back issues and subscriptions for sale, Mojo4Music.com offers links to purchase both tickets for upcoming performances and rare and limited CD’s and vinyl. But an analysis of both Q and

NME’s sites reveals a much wider range of products on offer in their practice as matchmaker.

The ‘NME Shop’ (see Figure 17) is a prominent feature of NME.com that confirms the

matchmaking potential of the Internet as well as recognising the type of music consumers

that make up their readership. The ‘Shop’ offers users the possibility of purchasing CDs, rare

vinyl, memorabilia, t-shirts, tickets for local gigs as well as special editions of the printed title and ring-tones. Preferred genres and artists that are emblematic of the NME are represented in

these links. For example, a link to t-shirts finds shirts emblazoned with logos with ‘classic’

Indie bands such PIL, The Ramones and the Smiths, and newer artists such as The Strokes,

the Kings of Leon and the Darkness. While features such as these are no doubt intended as

Figure 17 NME.com: The NME Shop revenue making exercises, consumption within the NME Shop is explicitly guided by the values of the title. The construction of Internet sites in this manner recognises something that discourse accompanying the critique of popular music often does not. As argued in Chapter

Four, being a consumer of popular music and actively engaging with music journalism costs money. It is a hobby, a form of identity and/or a leisure pursuit that is necessarily intertwined with the capitalist order – even when talking about music texts and consumption practices that are often viewed as being more authentic in the critical framing associated with the

NME.

Q’s relationship with its readers is one that situates the consumption of popular music as a

leisure activity rather than it being tied to a form of identity, as readers of the NME may be imagined. Yet, in a similar way to NME.com, the ‘Q Shop’ (see Figure 18) also features links to offers of CDs, rare vinyl and memorabilia, tickets to local gigs, special collectable editions of the printed magazine and ring-tones. There are two features available through the Shop that seems to indicate Q’s broader recognition and address of music consumption as a form of leisure. The ‘Q Gig Travel Shop’ doesn’t simply sell tickets to local performances, it also lists overseas packages that will include tickets to a particular performance as well as a hotel package for the night or weekend. As with the printed version itself, the lists of artists covered here are not restricted to Indie and Alternative musicians but include acts as diverse as Britney Spears, Phil Collins and Eric Clapton. Although band’s central to the NME’s canon do tour internationally, matching together a touring act with a hotel and travel package is not consistent with the NME, but does fit with Q’s values. Their journalistic approach that considers music as leisure and not to be taken too seriously can also be related to ‘Make Your

Own Q Goodies’, a feature of the Shop where users can customise a range of, for example, Figure 18

Q4Music.com: The Q Shop and the Q Gig Travel Shop handbags, mobile phones, t-shirts and bedspreads using the images and fonts available through the appointed merchandiser. A service such as this appearing on either the Mojo or

NME websites would undermine the dialogic relationships particular to both titles.

Comparatively, Q’s online shopping recognises not only common consumption patterns amongst many music fans (i.e. rare CDs, tickets, etc) but moves beyond these in recognition of the broader interests of the readership they address.

Van Dijk (1999), in exploring how “networks” function in the new economy, argues that they

bring together “individuals, households, groups and organizations” (p.24). At the most basic

level, online shopping creates networks between readerships and consumption opportunities.

But more interestingly, closer analysis demonstrates how the Internet allows organisations to

create a wider network that recognises, in this instance, changes in the interests of consumers

of popular music. For example, browsing the reviews section of NME.com network strategies

are highlighted with each review downloaded. After reading the review on a particular CD

release, users can then follow links which allow them to ‘search the NME Shop’, ‘Search

Ebay’, ‘Search Ring-tones’ or ‘Get Mobile Alerts’ relating to the particular artist or band.

Each of these links is another link to another organisation which forms part of the NME

network. For example, within the ‘NME Shop’ users interested in purchasing a particular t-

shirt will be forwarded to www.backstreetmerch.com; ticket sales will link users to

www.wayahead.com; and ring-tones and CD purchases link with www.eil.com. In a similar

way, searching for a particular CD review on Q4Music.com presents the user with the

opportunity for purchasing tickets through a link to www.aloud.com, with CD purchases being networked with retail giant HMV.

Rifkin (2000) has observed that in a new economy, the concept of customisation is central to

understanding contemporary relationships between production and consumption. He argues a

saturation of consumer markets has resulted in a change “from mass production to mass customization” where goods and services are tailored to suit to the “need of each client”

(p.107). Customisation finds the relationship between the “firm and the consumer” determining “the nature of production” (p.108) and this is evident in the above analysis of the

services available via online music sites. The relationship between the “firm and the

consumer” in this instance is embedded in the brand values of the music titles and this

informs how information and services are produced online. Rifkin’s argument that

“customers increasingly inform suppliers of unique individual needs” (p.107) is recognisable,

but the informing process is one that starts, not via the new technology of the Internet, but

through the relationship established in the printed version of each website. The readerships

associated with each music magazine under analysis share particular values and approaches

to consumption that are further customised in an online environment. For online music sites,

the Internet allows a more visible customised approach that is driven by consumption patterns

and choices unique to their specific readerships.

As the possibilities of the Internet were beginning to be realised, Marshall, Luckman and

Smith (1996) noted that traditional media outlets were keen to display “themselves on the

Internet in some way” (p.64, see also Chyi & Lasorsa 1999). For publishing groups

associated with music magazines, customising their services online allows this display to be

individuated, and this is likely to become more apparent as new forms of music consumption

become better realised. Particularly relevant here is MP3: a technology that is of specific

interest to the publishers behind Q and Mojo who state: We began these sites [Q4Music, Mojo4Music] with the assumption that in the future the Internet would be where most people got their music from. That is another portion of the future that is taking longer to arrive than we’d have thought. When it is developed [online music] we see our job as being there to be online navigators and as a place where you can download your own choice of music. (Dunoyer)

EMAP’s strategy here aims to extend the matchmaking role as part of the customised service

for their readerships. Music consumers have usually adapted to new recording and distribution technologies such as vinyl, cassettes, compact discs and now MP3. Certainly the increasing prevalence of MP3 play back devices, such as Apple’s iPod, suggests that this technology is now something that recording industries and consumers are interested in exploring further. Online music sites are increasingly keen to capitalise on this new form of music consumption as they are now beginning to offer ‘free’ downloads of particular artists and songs relevant to their readerships. Online music sites have been able to explore their role as matchmaker via linking these readerships with merchandise usually considered

periphery to music texts themselves, such as t-shirts, gigs and memorabilia. With the

increased usage of MP3, it remains the case that by adhering to the conventions and

dialogues between reader and writer in the printed version, customised online product will

differentiate from other customised services available on the Internet. However these customised sites face greater competition, and not necessarily from other music press titles that have made the transition from print to the Internet. The greatest challenge comes from those sites that personalise their content not by using genre or critical frameworks, but by employing elements that are unique to fan cultures.

Online Fan Cultures: Redaction and Personalisation Sefton-Green (1998) argues that the advent of the Internet has challenged traditional assumptions of media use to the point that it may be possible to argue that the medium allows for a form of postmodern media usage. She says:

A strong sub-theme in this context is the effects of bringing together the previously discrete areas of making and consuming leisure products. Whereas the paradigm of mass broadcast firmly kept the means of production in the hands of few, the computer, and/or being online, appears to allow the consumer previously undreamed of control and participation in the production of entertainment and culture (p.6).

Although the UK rock music press may acknowledge different types of music consumers through their employment of different critical framing, this is not an indication of readers having “control” over production of content. Rather as Sefton-Green contends, publishing, like other areas of mass media, embodies an approach to production where content and delivery is in the hands of a few. But it is the interactive nature of the Internet along with access to creating new sites outside of dominant media that is creating a new form of music information production. Fan sites, for example, are created (usually) by individuals via their own home computers in homage to their favourite artist or band and share information and services with like-minded individuals. They are unofficial to the extent that they are not sanctioned directly by the artist or a record company. Comparatively, what can be termed official band sites are established by record companies as a means of providing information and content (i.e. news, downloads, pictures, press releases) about a particular act. It is these sites that, while complementing the customised address of established music titles online, can also be understood as posing the biggest threat to the organisation of music journalism.

Although some commentators find fan sites and their ilk “uncritically” focused (Coates

1998, p.77), personalised content of this nature performs a role quite different to those more critical online discussion boards this author in particular is referring to. Jensen (1992) argues that this is typical of an academic approach that perceives fandom as a type of pathology and is understood as something “that ‘they’ do” (p.19) which may explain why fan culture is usually only discussed in relation to ‘youths’ and/or young, pre-teen girls and activities that are often bordered by their own bedroom culture (see for example, Baker 2001, Railton

2001). But the Internet has allowed fans “enhanced opportunities…for cultural participation and for the management and promotion of their own concerns” (Bennett 2004, p.168). In this instance, fan sites offer a place to gather and share information that is more specific than the type of content offered by a music magazine. The large number of sites dedicated to this type of activity suggests that the music consumer as fan is one representation that has been ignored by most publishing organisations. This is not surprising – fan information is highly specialised or personalised information, content that is beyond the scope of a mass medium such as magazine publishing. But what the following section aims to demonstrate is that fans, like the readerships addressed by customised printed titles and their online sites, share conventions specific to the culture in which they belong that, in turn, guides the production of information on these websites.

A useful definition of the difference between fan cultures and more general fans of popular

music can be appropriated from approaches to understanding fans of other forms of popular

culture. Tulloch (1995), for example, undertakes an analysis of ‘Cult TV’ fans and argues

that they can be understood as a “powerless elite”; powerless outside of their own community

but elite in that they display “knowledge and competency” when compared to “average” Cult

TV consumers (p.144). Central to the relationship between music journalism and its readers

in the UK rock music press is how content is framed for the purpose of guiding consumption.

To an extent, this particular trade in information stands in contrast to fan cultures where information takes a less general approach and is reconfigured as a trade in (“elite”) knowledge. Chen (2000) has argued that knowledge is indeed central to fan activity on the

Internet and argues that fans “pool interpretations, analyses and information, creating a situation where fans with more cultural capital become the educators of fans with less” (np).

Bennett (2004) rightly acknowledges that these types of online activities are usually a result of activities and relationships established offline (pp.164-165) thus indicating the evolutionary dimension of these observations about online fan activity. The relationship between music journalism and readerships is one that is based on the selection on critical framework, genre and associated artists. Fan cultures more specifically are interested in sharing the experience of their consumption of a particular product – a given artist or band.

The differences between online music information sites and those that relate to specific artists

reveal a division between established and emerging forms of music journalism. Whereas

NME.com, Mojo4Music.com, Uncut.co.uk and Q4Music.com work towards creating new

customised environments for their pre-established relationships, fan and band sites may

indeed be contributing to a development in music journalism. Hartley (2000) employs the

term “redactional” to account for a journalistic practice that is now defined by collecting and

editing information for a specialised audience. He argues that democratic forms of

communication such as the Internet have led to a wider pool of information being provided

and it is because of this that journalism often involves performing a ‘search engine role’

(p.43). Redactional practices may be noted in journalism that appears in non-music

publications such as daily newspapers (see Chapter Seven), but the role of ‘search engine’ is

one that appears to be most notable in the personalised approaches to music information in

the fan sites analysed below.

‘Blur’ Online

What follows is a comparison between the ‘official’ online site for the British Indie band Blur and two sites that have been established by fans. The official site has been established by the band’s record label and provides an example of personalised content as well as displaying many similarities to sites which have been set up by the fans. Research on the official site – www.blur.co.uk – was undertaken at the beginning of 2003, a pertinent time for analysis given that the band were about to release their first new album for over five years. As such, much of the information being collected and traded on this site by fans related to this new product. Research undertaken on the fan sites – www.blurtalk.com and www.damon- albarn.com – was completed close to a year later as a means of measuring the interest and content production that continued to exist when the band had finished promotional and touring duties related to the album. With traditional music press sites engaging in a broader, customised approach, content for those sites is rarely an issue in comparison to activity on more personalised outlets. The aim, then, is to tease out further differences in the construction of customised and personalised content on the Internet to demonstrate how these differences reflect various values attached to the consumption of popular music.

The official site for Blur, on the Internet, is one that contains a list of categories that are representative of sites of a similar nature (see Figure 19). These categories include the self- explanatory ‘news’ section, a ‘members’ section where those who have signed-up are able to download exclusive videos and live performances of the band, a ‘Q & A’ section that is maintained irregularly by the band’s drummer, and a merchandise link to the ‘Blur Shop’

Figure 19 www.blur.co.uk: Home Page and ‘New Album’ Bulletin Board (sponsored by EMI Music). There is also a ‘diary’ section, a feature that seems to be updated

only when the band are recording and/or touring. It is both this section and the news section

that carry the most information and are both often quoted by other online music sites such as

NME.com and Rollingstone.com. Both of these sections offer personalised information that

customised sites do not – a feature that is carried through all the threads featured on the home

page. This is an example as to how the technology of the Internet is changing relationships

between consumers of music and music information outlets, whereby official band sites

provide a direct link between the performer and the fan.

The direct link between performer and fan is the most obvious aspect of the site, but further

examination of the bulletin boards contained within the site demonstrate another direct link

taking place – between Blur fans themselves. This is the section of the site where the value of

the trade of information in fan cultures is most pronounced. It was argued earlier that

conventions associated with readerships are what guides categorisation, framing and content on more customised web sites. Here, conventions are somewhat more implicit, but, in the sharing of information and conversational discourse, there appears to be a tension between the value of Blur themselves and the popularity they achieve beyond the fan culture. This is similar to the argument Tulloch (1995) has made in relation to Cult TV fans who, he notes, are concerned with the “quality” of their particular show as well as connecting with a wider audience so that the object of their fandom continues to have a media life (p.169). It is the negotiation between these two concerns that demonstrates how information is delivered to other fans on these sites once it has been collected.

An example of this negotiation is demonstrated by a link within the bulletin board of

www.blur.co.uk entitled ‘Anything About the New Album’ (see Figure 19). As with many

CD titles, Blur’s new album ‘Think Tank’ was leaked on the Internet prior to its release,

providing an extensive body of discussion amongst fans who had heard the album before

many others. Within this thread, rumours, opinions, as well as material collected from other sources (such as the music press who may have been granted an advance copy of the album) make up the informative content. Examples of the material collected are included in posts such as ‘what tracks are included on the new album’, ‘tabs and chords’ for the new songs,

‘release dates’ for the CD worldwide, and ‘what cover’ had been chosen for the then unreleased CD. Posts also speculate on which track will be taken from the album and released as the second single, in a way that is consistent with Tulloch’s binary of understanding fan activity as being structured around industry (the wider audience/popularity) and quality (the ‘authenticity’ of the group themselves). This thread, evokes a particular form of musicality (“it rocks!”) as well as strategies that will keep up the band’s public profile (“it would be a great summer song”). These posts may seem of little importance for more general music consumers but they demonstrate how personalised content is collected and distributed for specific fan cultures. Although fans can be thought as a “powerless elite”, discussing which song should be released as a single may provide the opportunity for these fans to feel included in the strategies of band management – albeit in a symbolic and purely textual way. For any Blur fan interested in information on the album, it was the bulletin boards contained on this website, as opposed to the news section sanctioned by the record label that, in this instance, was the provider of this personalised content.

Threads such as these also impart how fan cultures make sense of their own community. Hills

(2002) argues that fan activity involves a:

dialectic of value in which personalised, individual and subjective moments of fan attachment interact with communal constructions and justifications without either moment over-writing or surmounting the other (p.xiii).

This “dialectic of value” is what forms the conventions of fan activity online where

justifications rely on communal constructions to make meaning of information that is specific to a fan culture. Whereas readers of the NME may employ a communal construction that

situates their tastes in opposition to other music consumers, fan cultures rely, to a certain

extent, on their band and/or artist maintaining a public profile so that they construct

themselves firstly as information specialists. Hence the binary at play between popularity

and, in this case, Blur maintaining their authenticity – which is itself negotiated amongst the

fans rather than being played out by the band themselves. This is also notable in the same

thread about the ‘New Album’ where reviews of the album have been collected from other

music sites and added as a post. Dialogue between fans on the bulletin boards around this

content includes discussions critiquing reviews and how correct or incorrect these

assessments are when matched with the fans own “dialectic of value”. A positive review from

NME, for example, draws mostly appreciative comments with members noting the

importance of a good review in the NME may encourage the wider public to buy the new

album. Additionally, the NME is noted as displaying a journalism of agenda-setting and

judgments that often rely on an opposition to mainstream tastes, which complements those

fans on the bulletin board that are keen to promote this aspect of the band. Whereas

readerships hailed by different types of music journalism rely on a preferred critical

framework, “communal constructions” on www.blur.co.uk indicate how frameworks in fan

cultures co-exist and “interact” without “over-writing” each other.

Fan cultures are often observed as being more active in their engagement with media texts,

which results in this grouping often being understood not only as consumers but also as

producers. Yet Hills (2002) feels productivity in relation to fan culture is a “term being pushed to do too much work” and is often evoked as a way to remove the “taint of consumption” (p.30). But for music fans, such as the users on www.blur.co.uk, it is

consumption that permits them to be producers. Whereas music journalists are ‘paid’ to

consume and critique, fans are critics and commentators who are unpaid for their

consumption. Blur fans on this particular bulletin board use their consumption activity as

another form of creating information content. For example, prior to the release of the new

album, a new thread appeared on the Blur bulletin board entitled ‘live reviews’. No official

tour had been launched at this time, but the band had played sporadic dates around the globe

as a promotional tool for the forthcoming album. As each gig was wrapped up, fans would post their review of the performance and include their personal opinion, the set-list, the

crowd’s reaction as well as other peripheral details such as who wore what and commentary

on the lead singer’s receding hairline. Although redactional practices contribute to a large

amount of information on these bulletin boards, these reviews stand as an example of fan

journalism. This form of journalism promotes consumption and imbues it with the values that

are central to the fan culture. This particular form of creativity could be observed as being

uncritically favoured towards the fans’ object of attention, yet music magazines and online

sites interested in maintaining relationships do much the same thing in their erection of

critical paradigms to justify consumer guidance. But, unlike readerships associated with

music journalism, fan journalism invests in a form of consumption that demands a more

personalised approach in the provision of information.

On Blur’s official website there is a link to listings of other websites that have been created solely by fans. Interestingly, nearly twelve months after the release of the band’s last album a large majority of these sites are inactive, with two exceptions. Both www.blurtalk.com and

www.damon-albarn.com are very active sites, but each approaches their charter slightly

differently while maintaining some of the formats and conventions explored via analysis of

the official site. www.blurtalk.com (see Figure 20) is a comprehensive site that, like most

sites of this nature, includes a ‘news’ section. Unlike the ‘news’ section on the official site,

where updates take the form of ‘official’ news from the record company and/or the band,

here the news section is one that displays the “search engine” role attributed to redactional

practices. For example, a headline that announces the band’s latest album has been nominated

for a ‘Brit Award’ is sourced from the official site; ‘Blur to Release New EP in 2004’ is taken

from music news server www.ananova.com, and ‘Blur Hit Back at BPI’ is sourced from

NME.com. Fan sites of this nature seem to take the conventions and redactional qualities of

bulletin boards discussed on www.blur.co.uk and use these as a means of structuring their

news content as well as other features and links on the site. The ‘Discography’ section (see

Figure 20), for example, not only provides a comprehensive listing of all of Blur’s releases,

but includes ‘trivia’ that has been supplied by other fans. What an album’s original title was

meant to be, what songs were left off the album, ‘meanings’ of particular lyrics and song

titles, and various commentary about songs and albums that have been collected from other

journalistic sources. Much like the commentary on the official site’s bulletin board, this

information may be of little interest to Figure 20 www.blurtalk.com: Home Page and Discography those outside this particular fan culture and stands as an example of how this form of music

information online reflects different consumers of popular music.

www.blurtalk.com, in a similar way to the official site’s bulletin board, includes reviews of

live performances of the band from around the world. Again, a mix of redactional and fan

activity can be noted, with reviews being collected from other journalistic sources as well as

being produced by the fans across the globe themselves. It is processes such as these that

challenge the established approaches to music journalism. Fan sites and bulletin boards work

towards decentralising information, wrestling it free from media traditionally responsible for

its distribution. Fan cultures have existed since the advent of popular music but it is the

technology of the Internet that is allowing this particular group of consumers the opportunity

to communicate with each other without spatial boundaries. Fanzines have always afforded

the opportunity for at least one member of a fan culture to be the content provider, but, as

aspects of www.blurtalk.com demonstrate, this role can now be shared amongst various

participants who are now more easily enabled as content providers themselves (see Green

2000) and as journalists creating personalised information.

www.damon-albarn.com (see Figure 21) is another fan site that shares commonality with the

others under analysis, but which also demonstrates the evolutionary rather than revolutionary

aspects of the Internet. The name of the site refers to the lead singer of Blur, and the content

of the site is very much controlled by one person. Certainly the ‘news’ section, like

www.blurtalk.com, is made up of materials taken from other sources but it also includes

gossip from the site author. This site,

Figure 21 www.damon-albarn.com: Home Page and News Page in comparison to many other Blur fan’s sites, centres its service on content rather than

providing a forum for community exchange, which is another way personalised approaches to

music information can be realised. Content provided on this site shares much in common

with other general music sites – images to download, memorabilia, links to special offers

being made by online retailers and rare and collectable recordings. But where this site differs

from others is the amount of MP3s being offered for download. Unlike any other Blur fan or, indeed, the official site, www.damon-albarn.com offers over a dozen rare and exclusive MP3 files to be downloaded for free. Demarcating this practice as one instigated by a member of a fan community, the songs offered include appearances by the band and/or lead singer on other artists’ recordings, as well as remixes or ‘bootlegs’ that employ Blur’s music or lyrics.

Again there is an attention to detail here that would not be found on online sites that customise content for established readerships. As Jancovich (2002) argues, fan cultures “need

to produce and protect a sense of rarity and exclusivity” (p.309) and this is no different online

to those activities that are observed offline. “Rarity and exclusivity” is what these

personalised music sites have to offer consumers of popular music and it this exclusivity,

often performed through redactional practices, that marks their activities as different to the

sites for NME, Q, Uncut and Mojo. It is the differences between personalised and customised

content on online music sites that will inform guidance for popular music consumption in this

new media environment.

This chapter has shown how the relationships that are established offline are extended by

online music sites. Furthermore, it has explored the implications for music journalism in light

of the emergence of online fan cultures and demonstrated how and why the different

approaches to writing about music can and do coexist This is because their production is influenced by, and works to address, different consumers of popular music as well as

different levels of engagement. In this analysis, values that are embedded in both readerships

and fan cultures are used as conventions and frameworks that patrol content, dialogue and information appearing on these sites. This is an important observation for it shows how

different consumers of music seek different information regarding music, and it also imparts

a particular way of understanding the Internet. Whereas commentators often look towards

this medium as a new environment, this analysis has argued that the activity on the Internet is

more evolutionary than revolutionary. Understanding online activity as evolutionary

demonstrates how old media products are not necessarily supplanted by new forms appearing

on the Internet. Rather, online and offline media work towards addressing consumers of

popular music in ways that complement each other.

But perhaps the biggest difference between the two media is the Internet’s dense networking capacity which supports an increasing system of hyperlinks connecting music consumers to related products and wares being offered by retailers and new types of service providers. It is here that these sites are poised to capitalise on the biggest change to music consumption in recent times – MP3 technology. Although Napster and record company initiated sites offer the opportunity for consumers to search for required files, fan sites and online music sites such as NME.com are positioned to act as search engines for their respective music cultures.

The question remains, however, whether such a direct route to popular music texts will make redundant the role of the music journalist as critic and mediator.

Much has been made about the redundancy of established music journalism in line with new

consumer activity and new mediums that challenge the monopoly of the consumer music press. While this chapter has shown has shown how online and offline spaces for

performances can coexist, the following chapter looks towards an environment that not only

includes different performances of music journalism, but spaces outside the consumer music

press for other performances. Whereas this chapter examined the relationship between sites

online as well as similarities and differences between online and offline music journalism

sites, the following chapter looks at the printed environment in the UK. The case study of the

UK mediasphere is one that can be applied to other national contexts, as the genres of media

production are similar to those of other nations (i.e. Australia). In this instance, however, the

UK has been chosen as a site of analysis due to the volume of music criticism published in

that nation. By examining this material, this chapter will ask what is the relationship between

the different performances and different sites of music journalism in a wider media context?

It will seek to uncover a chain of meaning amongst these sites in an effort to understand the

evolution of frameworks underpinning the discourse of music journalism and to make some

conclusions and it contemporary performances.

Chapter Seven

Convince, Converse, Consume The Contemporary Practice of Music Journalism

In a similar way to the increasing prevalence of Internet activity, the rise of celebrity titles,

‘lads mags’ and music sections in daily newspapers are seen as threat to the established practice of music journalism. As performances of music journalism become more dispersed, its role and the validity of the critical frameworks displayed in the established consumer music press are questioned. This chapter, like the last, understands these changes as a necessary aspect of the evolution of music journalism, much like those changes outlined since the practice’s inception in Chapter Two. Furthermore, it may be argued that with the many different outlets available in the contemporary era, the performances of music journalism are in fact imbued with a clearer definition of their purpose via a relational examination. Relationships apparent in the various consumer music titles tell us much about the dialogue between writers and consumers of popular music and the construction of popular music discourse. Relationships apparent amongst various consumer music titles and other outlets for information about popular music reveals how meaning in the contemporary discourse of music journalism is a result of the coexistence of these performance in the wider mediasphere.

Music journalism can be understood as existing within the emerging new genres of

journalism collectively assigned the description of ‘lifestyle’ journalism. In the discipline of

journalism studies, the uses and meanings of this new genre of writing are underdeveloped.

Academics within journalism studies tend to approach the field in ways that help young practitioners make sense of the profession and the conditions in which they will work (see for example, Tapsall and Varley 2001, Schultz 1998). These approaches, like Forde’s (2001,

2003) analysis of music journalism practice in the UK, are valuable for understanding the profession but offer little in understanding the relationships embedded between journalism and its readers. Authors who have attempted this task (see, for example, Hartley 1996,

Lumby 1999) have done so by evoking elements of postmodern theory to not necessarily undermine traditional approaches, but to demonstrate how the form has evolved and to argue that varying types of journalism can and do co-exist. As this thesis has demonstrated, this is applicable to music journalism where what can be termed modern and postmodern approaches co-exist by addressing different readerships. The differences between the two, as outlined in Chapter One, are differences between those approaches that focus mainly on the text and its meaning, and those that aim for a wider contextual approach. As this chapter will demonstrate, this can also be understood as journalism that seeks to convince and that which seeks to converse.

Hartley’s (2004) work on the value chain of meaning provides a context for understanding the comparative nature of this chapter. In understanding the value chain between production and consumption, he argues that the “place where people have looked in order to determine what something means has drifted down the chain” to the consumer (p.132). Whereas the relationship between production and consumption could once be described as employing a mode of address that sought to convince and/or convert, Hartley argues that the relationship is now less didactic – describing the relationship as one that converses. This chapter is influenced by Hartley’s argument, but aims to discover whether a value chain of meaning is apparent amongst the different performances of music journalism. While approaches that convince and converse are apparent, new textual spaces are displaying a form of journalism

that consumes these other approaches, indicating a value chain of meaning within the system of music journalism. While this thesis has argued that traces of consumption patterns are evident in different music press readerships, this chapter argues that consumption is also part of the contemporary, and interrelated, landscape of music journalism production.

Journalism as Dialogue

Surveying the content of the music press at the beginning of the 1990s, former music

journalist, Simon Reynolds (1990b) argues:

The music press has abandoned its pretensions of leading its readership or setting agendas, and contracted around the concept of “service”: hard news, information, gossip, consumer guidance. But pretensions and pretentiousness were what gave it its edge in the first place (p.26).

Music journalism, much like news journalism, is understood to have a prescribed role and the

common thread for both of these practices is to inform. Whereas news journalism evokes objectivity in undertaking this task, music journalism, according to Reynolds, would undertake this by “setting agendas” in a pretentious manner. Although they are both unique content providers, conceptualising both types of journalism in this way leads to a media practice that can be described as modern journalism; journalism as authority, with textual boundaries erected between reader and writer. However, in relation to music journalism,

Jones’ (1995) argues that its role is one of “meaning making” in a dialogue that works towards a “discourse of popular music” (p.105). It is important to recognise that discourse doesn’t originate from one source, rather it is “developed, circulated and supported by groups of people who are…linked into a community in some way” (McKee 2003, p.100). The discourse of popular music is one that is developed and circulated by music journalists and music consumers (see also Frith 1996, pp.47-74) confirming one of the results of the dialogue

between reader and writer. However, the contribution of music journalism to the process may

be a result of a dialogue between the different performances of music journalism that

circulate and are negotiated in the greater mediasphere.

The status of modern forms of journalism is understood to have coincided with the ideals of modernity. Hartley (1996) has argued it may be more useful to understand journalism as not coming into being via modernity, but as a “textual system of modernity” (p.3) that engaged with the ideals and rhetoric of this period rather than being dictated by them. Hartley argues that the media, including print journalism, has always been in dialogue with readers, reflecting their fears, confirming their hopes and constructing readerships as publics at the same time. This has led to an assertion that the media and, indeed, journalism contribute to a

“postmodern public sphere” where sense-making practices are continually challenged and debated in the making of discourse. He goes on to argue that:

Journalism forms a mediasphere which connects readerships not only (perhaps not even primarily) with the public domain, but also with the culture at large – indeed journalism is one of the chief mechanisms by which different (and sometimes mutually incomprehensible) cultural domains are kept in dialogue with one another (p.28).

The notion of a postmodern public sphere, as it relates to media production, suggests a more

complex model of communication than those features attributed to modern journalism and

certain understandings of music journalism. Hartley’s understanding of journalism here is

one that can be described as dialogic.

Meadows (2001), in considering the role of journalism education, makes an argument similar

to Hartley’s in suggesting that the practice should be thought of as a form of public conversation. He notes how the origins of journalism are to be found in public spaces like

coffee shops and public houses where it served as a function both of the public and for the

public (p.41, emphasis in original). He contends that arguments that continue to look at

journalism as performing the role of a ‘Fourth estate’ (see Schultz 1998), have contributed to

stitching “the citizen into a passive role of spectator” (p.42). Models such as these, Meadows

argues, find citizens of the media “cast into the roles of ‘students’ to be educated by the

media, rather than being participants in the process of self-government” (ibid.). Although his

analysis is primarily concerned with the relationship between politics and the media,

Meadow’s notion of “participation” works alongside Hartley’s “postmodern public sphere”

as a way forward for understanding journalism’s functions. For both authors, journalism

should be recognised as a process of dialogue between its practitioners and its readers.

Chapter One noted how criticisms of contemporary music journalism have perceived a

decline in journalistic standards. These criticisms claim the commercial, rather than the

creative, is often the focal point of discussion in postmodern music journalism (see Nehring

1997, Sloop 1999). However, as McRobbie (1989b) reminds us, it is also possible to

understand this trend as a desire on the part of music journalists to write about the culture in

which music is situated rather than specifically focusing on an artist or an album. This is how

contemporary music journalism contributes to discourses of popular music. It is this wider

contextual approach that confirms the dialogic practice taking place – where wider

consumption patterns may be considered in reviewing or featuring particular musical artists

and texts. When interviewed for this project, Q journalist Steve Lowe commented on the emergence of a general feeling that taking a broader approach to music is better than

“ramming your opinion down somebody’s throat”. Similarly, the music editor for UK’s The Guardian argues that music journalism is less about starting trends than it is following them and making sense of why they occur (Petridis). This commentary signals an evolution of practice in music journalism to one that evokes a broader contextual framework. Rather than journalists discussing commodification as a sign of ‘anything-goes’ postmodernism these broader contextual frameworks are representing the consumer culture that also informs and contributes to the discourse of popular music.

Two recent examples show how dialogic music journalism in the UK can be mistaken for

celebrating the commodification of popular music. A review of a single by the pop act

Sugababes in the NME says:

The Sugababes inexorable journey to the very heart of the mainstream is one of the most satisfying pop phenomenons…[as is] their talent for singing the most upbeat tune like a motorway service station cashier through a Perspex vent….Will work even better, one would think, with a display of the trio’s inept Bananarama-esque dancing in big shoes (Robinson 2003, p.58).

Although Chapter Three demonstrated how the NME’s approach is often markedly different

to its competitors, its framework for understanding trends in popular music, like Sugababes’

popularity, is indicative of contemporary music journalism. Here the journalist is

acknowledging commodification (‘mainstream’) and a sense of self-reflexiveness in his own

attraction to the text. As with the critical approach noted in the NME, absent from the review

are criteria to justify the praise. Instead, the use of descriptive humour addresses the

resistance some of the title’s readers may have to such a celebration. This is in keeping with

the evolution of the discourse of popular music that, in this instance, allows the reviewer to

have fun with an act and a song that is outside their canon of taste without having to deride it

altogether. This sense of playfulness is not reserved for pop acts or the NME, as a review in Q

of a new punk band The Distillers illustrates. They argue that “the Los Angeles/Melbourne punk quartet have evolved from club-packing rock hotshots quicker than you can say record

company hype” (Allen 2004, p.134). Like the NME example above, Q, here, critically acknowledges some of the features of contemporary popular music discourse, such as the place of the mainstream and the role of hype. These postures do not exist solely within the pages of these respective titles. They are part of the process of meaning-making that occurs in dialogues between writers and readers who are both located in the consuming public.

If the term postmodern is a useful one in relation to journalistic practices then it is one that

should be employed to recognise the blurring of traditional binary oppositions. For music

journalism this is the binary between production and consumption, a binary that arises in

Scott’s (1999) examination of the practice of art journalism. He notes that while art critics are

often understood as “cultural mediators”, they are also “both consumers and producers” of

cultural products (p.47). Although this theory has a literal implication (i.e. art critics as

artists), Scott is attempting to situate the art critic in wider cultural practices, something that

the above examples from Q and the NME also aim to demonstrate. This is an important shift

that moves away from the absolute notion of the journalist as ‘author’; one who is outside of

and unaffected by wider cultural beliefs and practices. Negus (2002) suggests it is now

pertinent to view those in “culture-producing organisations” as being involved in activities

analogous to a “way of life” that often blurs the distinctions between, for example,

“public/private, professional judgement/personal preference and work/leisure time” (p.119).

In order to write about music as a journalist, one must also be a consumer of music,

something that was adequately demonstrated in the previous chapter with the fan journalist.

Sloop (1999) and Nehring (1997), who accuse practitioners of embracing postmodernism at

the expense of their readers, fail to acknowledge that consumption is common to both journalists and their readers, and the approaches and content which they criticise is indeed a reflection of this practice.

The practices of consumption and associated meaning-making interact with the practices of music journalism and result in a variety of approaches to content production within this field.

Toynbee (1993) has rightly noted that music journalists “may be sponsors or initiators of music texts rather than mere filters” (p.289) between the artist and the audience. Though this is likely to be less common amongst all contemporary music titles, Toynbee’s argument implies that readers of the music press can still be passive recipients of others’ opinions. But, as was demonstrated in Chapter Four, the relationship between readers and writers is one based on dialogue marked by its own conventions, which will often include particular critical approaches and genre preferences. Rather than passivity, the issue here is one of trust. As the concept of truth is central to the function of news journalism, it is trust that has allowed the music press, previously, to perform the role of music arbiter and consumer guide at a time when they were often the only media outlet for such dialogue. Rather than dupe their readers, the music press, post-punk, were keen to convince their readers that they were the more knowledgeable of the collective called into being by their particular music title. This was applicable to both modern and postmodern forms of music journalism. Music journalism at this point was didactic, and this is another aspect of the UK music press that would be challenged during the time of Britpop.

Britpop – Who Needs Convincing?

As outlined in Chapter Four, Britpop was a musical movement that dominated the UK music charts between 1994 and 1996. As a journalist working for Select during this period, Steve Lowe, when interviewed, argued that “music journalism has never mattered that much [to the

wider public], it’s just that occasionally it coincides with public taste – like with Britpop”.

Britpop was strange territory for a large number of UK music journalists who, since the time of the Beatles, had spent a lot of their time convincing their readers that certain acts were worthy of their attention, specifically those artists who received no other journalistic coverage or radio support. As music features began to appear in non-music publications during the time of Britpop, a sense of panic seemed to spread through a profession that found itself threatened as ‘their’ content began appearing in other non-music magazines and daily newspapers. It is the reaction to this that is demonstrated by a case study of the one of the biggest bands of the time, Oasis.

During an interview for this thesis, former Select editor and current music editor for The

Guardian, Alexis Petridis, expressed his opinion that the extent to which the music press lost

its way and “lost its strength” became tangible in the way it approached the band Oasis.

Certainly the Oasis effect was a common discussion amongst many journalists interviewed

for this project. Oasis had released their debut album, in 1994, to unanimous critical praise

across all music titles in the UK (and to a certain extent, the world) and, while not initially a

commercial success, the album and the band gradually made their way into public

consciousness. Their second album was released a year later but was generally not well-

received in the music press. Indicative of the average reviews that greeted it, Q called it “a wasted opportunity if you are being generous” and labelled what would go on to be their

biggest hit, Wonderwall, “a dirge” (Cavanagh 1995). But as Petridis rightly notes:

public opinion went the other way and it took off and became this huge kind of Zeitgeist defining record. The music press were baffled – ‘we told you this record was rubbish and you all went and bought it’.

Buy it, the public did, and the album, ‘What’s the Story (Morning Glory)’ is now ranked as one of the highest selling British albums of all time. It would seem that the music journalists were losing their ability to convince. More importantly, they were wrong at a time when a lot of people were listening. By the end of the year, however, in recognition of its “Zeitgeist” significance, all publications had listed the album in the Top 10 of their end of year lists.

Before the release of their third album, the popularity of Oasis continued to increase. For example, the band played what was, at the time, the largest concert ever on British soil when they played at an outdoor venue at Knebworth in 1996 attended by a quarter of a million people. The weeks leading up to the release of their third album ‘Be Here Now’, were notable for extensive publicity, hype, rumour and a little scandal. For example, journalists were not issued with copies of the album for review. Instead, they were invited to a private reception to listen to the recording where they were required to sign an agreement that they would not discuss the album’s content with anybody, including partners and family members (see

Cavanagh 2000). Nevertheless, the reviews were gushing:

So because it was Oasis, they thought ‘well the public love them, we better say it is great’ and of course what happens is, even though it sold very well in its first few weeks, it became the most returned record in history. (Petridis)

The album is indeed the butt of many jokes to this day in the music press, and some have even claimed that the mismatch of hype and content led to the collapse of the record label that had supported the band from their inception (see Cavanagh 2000). But Petridis’ point here refers to a subversion to what was, up until then, the role of music journalism – that is to convince a niche readership based on what it believed to be the patterns of preference apparent in that music culture. As he points out, however, Oasis mark a point where journalists began to follow wider public taste patterns and attempt to convince them, rather

than those members within that public that made up the readers specific to their title. He

argues that this has led to a situation where the greater public:

no longer care what the music press says. That continues to this very day with a band like the Stereophonics who have never had anything but a mediocre review and they are one of the biggest bands in the country (Petridis).

It is important, however, to note that since the expansion of the music press market in the

early 1990s music journalism has been addressing niche readerships. As Petridis notes,

during Britpop there was a shift in practice that acknowledged a dialogical role, but one that

was going beyond the established readerships of these titles. As the popularity of Britpop bands began to wane so too did the wider public’s interest in music journalism. And for the

niche readerships that had once looked toward the medium as their particular mediator for

their consumption practices, it was a matter of no longer being convinced.

In the wake of the after effects of Britpop, both Select and Melody Maker went into crisis

control, changing the format and content that has been central to the titles for the past decade.

This meant that genres such as pop, dance and heavy metal became part of their regular feature story content as a means of trying to recapture the circulation figures both publications attracted during the height of Britpop. But the NME remained steadfast and

continued to push their journalistic role as one that aimed to convince their audience, even

when it was at the expense of the readers they were supposedly addressing. This was

explicitly realised in a cover story published in June, 1998, that was accompanied by a

picture of a Union Jack stencilled guitar (a symbol of Britpop) set alight in flames (see Figure

22). The story was entitled ‘Why British Music is Going up in Smoke’ and was an eight page Figure 22

The NME in Reactionary Mode

NME, June 13, 1998 spread that included interviews with retailers, record company personal as well as the views

and opinions of a select group of NME journalists. Here are some of the conclusions reached by this think piece:

You don’t have to be a genius to figure that record sales are fucked…You don’t have to be a genius to figure that the record industry is fucked….Perhaps the one main reason is that music has ceased to be as important as it was. (Alexander et al 1998, p.17)

The stance taken in this article was denounced by the former editor of NME who believes the whole article was a “stupid thing to do” (Oldham) and one that would instigate a shift in approach for the publication and the journalism it promoted. For the article not only criticised an industry central to the music journalism but, more importantly, seemed to be suggesting that consumers too had lost their way by telling them their consumption patterns ‘were fucked’. In the struggle to imbue meaning back into the role of their music journalism, NME

inadvertently suggested that there was no point to their charter by arguing music was no

longer important. The article suggested that the loss of readerships they were facing was not a reflection of their journalism but the inability of their readers to change the situation.

Displaced from their once central role in UK music journalism, it is of little wonder that the title continued to lose readers for the next five years. But the NME was not the only title losing readers. All other members of the UK music press continually reported declining circulation figures during this period.

New Platforms for Music Journalism

While the NME’s ‘everything is fucked’ approach suggested that there was little left to write

about, journalism about popular music continued to thrive outside the pages of the music

press. As Jones and Featherly (2002) note, music journalism “is increasingly incorporated into a broad range of contemporary periodicals (most notably in ‘lifestyle’ magazines) and

serves a wider audience than ever” (p.8). Possibly starting this trend were ‘lad mag’ titles

such as Loaded and FHM, who were launched around the height of Oasis’ popularity and

whose employees included those who had previously worked as music journalists (see Crewe

2003). Oasis had a reputation for being a bunch of hard drinking, drug talking, foul-mouthed

thugs who often accused other bands of being lightweights and ‘poofters’. Oasis provided the

appropriate subject matter for these magazines, much of which was unrelated to music. Music

press titles display different frames for consumer guidance that work to address different consumers of popular music. Comparatively, lad mags often employ a narrative framework

that is centred on discourses of gender and the assumptions about what it is to be a man/lad

(see Benwell 2003) and incorporate music into this approach. It is this approach that stands in contrast to that which is available via the music press or other media sources.

Similarly, ‘tabloid’ magazines both in Australia and in the UK began to incorporate more

music journalism into their titles from the middle of the 1990s. In explaining the launch in the

UK of celebrity tabloid title Heat, Paul Dunoyer of EMAP explained in an interview conducted for this thesis that:

Our starting point when we launched Heat is that music is no longer the subculture which unites the entire youth of the country in the way that it had done in previous generations. Young people now consume a range of media and don’t distinguish between them very much. Therefore Heat was launched as a music / TV / Film / entertainment and lifestyle magazine.

The blending of genres in magazines such as these (i.e. Who Weekly, Sky, New Weekly) again

means that while music journalism is to be found here it takes quite a different form to its

place in other titles. These titles are more likely to treat music as part of the discourse of the celebrity, something that has been given another textual dimension via television formats such as Popstars and Pop Idol. Magazine titles and television shows such as these provide a different form of music journalism that recognises, for many, that music consumption can be part of a series of lifestyle choices without necessarily being awarded priority. Music journalism that appears outside of the traditional music press seems to evoke another range of approaches that are often not so explicit in titles such as Mojo or the NME. In a lad title like

FHM a band will be discussed via a framework that will often be couched within the mythical discourse of popular music associated with the last 1960s. For example, in a 2002 interview with Oasis’ lead singer, he is asked “You've had parties, the chicks, the drugs and the jewels. Bored with it yet?” and “What was the most blow [cocaine] you snorted in one sitting? (Oasis: FHM Interview 2002). Alternatively, the framework employed for musicians is often in line with the discourse of gender employed throughout the magazine’s content. For example, pop singer Justin Timberlake is asked “You’ve been linked with so many celebrity ladies. What’s your secret at chatting them up?”, as well as whether he had “sucked face with

Janet Jackson in a LA night club for two hours” (Buckeridge 2002). Tabloid approaches to discussing music either exist alongside other reviews of popular culture texts, in the allocated section, or musicians may be discussed within the discourse of celebrity (see Lumby 1999).

In the latter configuration, music celebrities are no different to those associated with television, film or fashion in that they are discussed in frameworks that are often subject to change, reflecting, as they do, “the shifting desires of the audience” (Turner, Bonner and

Marshall 2000, p.11) rather than necessarily abiding to the variety of music journalism frameworks that coexist in the wider mediasphere (see also, ibid, p.169).

With glossy magazines providing a very different service to that normally attributed to music

journalism, broadsheet and tabloid newspapers (such as The Sun in the UK) reveal another

performance of music journalism (see also Cloonan 2002). Tabloids are likely to take a similar approach to tabloid magazines, whereas national papers such as the Guardian and the

Independent in the UK and the Australian in Australia have a weekly music section dedicated

to covering what they consider relevant for a group of readers who may have little interest in

the intricacies of popular music texts. The current music editor for the Guardian notes how

writing for a newspaper readership such as theirs means that music journalism needs to be

more than functional and be an interesting piece of writing that speaks to a wider audience

(Petridis). Although the Guardian includes weekly reviews of new CD releases and live

performances, it’s content is more focused on situating music in a wider context. For

example, following the closure of both Select and Melody Maker, Mulholland (2001)

surveyed the lessons to be learned from these closures about the way people consume and

what is being consumed in the realm of popular music. Similarly, in response to often cited

catchcry that young girls are passive consumers of pop music, Petridis (2002a) offers a

feature article based on an ethnographic study where the author shops for CD singles with a

group of young girls to demonstrate what are often quite nuanced approaches to

consumption.

Music journalism’s appearance in a broad range of media products confirms how the readers

for this content are now spread across different platforms for journalism. Tabloid magazines,

lad mags and newspaper reportage demonstrate that an audience for music journalism exists

outside the more active consumers of popular music that form the readerships of the UK

music press and the street press in Australia. These new spaces for music journalism, in a similar way to the online music press sites discussed in the previous chapter, can be understood as customising their content to speak to their respective readers. Customisation in these media products requires applying a critical strategy to content that deals with music in ways that are consistent with the other content of the titles. Although it appears that customisation is very much an aspect of contemporary journalism production, there are other relationships between these customised products that can also be explored. In trying to ascertain how and why tabloid media and traditional news journalism are able to co-exist,

Lumby (1999) argues that it is necessary to read “across and between them” as well as the ideas and images that are prominent within a given media culture (p.5). Although Lumby’s paradigm of investigation relates to the production of news content, by reading across music journalism within the UK rock press and that which appears in other media, a chain of meaning can be noted that explains why different performances can and do coexist.

Conversing with Q

This thesis has argued throughout that all music journalism relies on a dialogue between readers and those who are responsible for the content of the title. But, with a broader approach to understanding and framing popular music, it is possible to understand Q, in particular, as textually conversing with its readership. Some obvious examples of textual conversation between reader and writer can be found in each monthly edition. Certainly

‘Letters to the Editor’ are common to all music press titles, but the magazine also has a long running section entitled ‘Cash for Questions’ where questions submitted by readers are used by journalists to guide the interview of a particular artist and/or band. This is a collaborative process between creative practitioners and readers whereby suggestions are provided and certain themes and frames of discussions are developed. ‘Where Are They Now?’ provides another example of conversation as readers ask the ‘experts’ what happened to a particular

artist. Likewise, ‘The Knowledge’ (see Figure 23) is a regular feature where readers pose

questions about often obscure matters pertaining to popular music. In the concert listings

section of the title, readers are asked to give their opinion of a live performance in ‘How was

it for you?’ (see Figure 24) which, being usually only five lines long, may not contain the

critical frameworks associated with modern music journalism but which does establish

readers as authoritative sources of opinion. These examples are indicative of a service that is

not to be found in tabloid and/or music journalism formats that appear in newspapers. These

features are obvious examples of an act of conversing taking place that informs the production of Q’s content, but there is another process that is far subtler.

The role of publicity officers in all music journalism is meant to be implicit, but by looking

closer at their function within journalism that converses, they can be understood as

performing the role of music consumer and surrogate reader. The influence of these

practitioners is examined by Turner et al (2000), who argue that the increasing prevalence of

publicity agents in media industries signifies a “change in the system of production” (p.2) of

content. Negus (1992) argues that the role of publicity officers, in relation to the music press,

is to locate “journalists and editors whose musical taste or publication profile may predispose

them to an act” (p.116). He calls these professionals “media matchmakers” and locates their

business practices solely on the side of delivering content. Comparatively, Forde (2001)

suggests that the role of publicity officer “has become increasingly central in the adjudicating

of journalistic access to artists” (p.36). Journalists interviewed for this project noted that

publicity officers are the ones who usually approach them, with editorial staff often being the

ones who will ‘adjudicate’ whether or not they want to become involved with the artist being Figure 23

Q: The Knowledge

From, Q, January 2001, p.54 Figure 24

Q: How Was it for You?

From, Q, December 2000, p.180 touted. Compromise is rarely an issue in the contemporary music press, with the former

editor of the NME saying that attaining photo approval for cover stories on Madonna and

Destiny’s Child is the only time in his experience that the title entered into any form of negotiation (Oldham). Forde’s assertion about the role of the publicity officer is one that echoes concerns about the commodification of culture and the end of the creative agent.

Hartley (1992) has recognised this binary by suggesting that while the concept of the public

(in this case study, a reading public) is understood to be an authentic entity, “any communicative attempt to reach it (i.e. publicity) is tainted, manipulative and false” (p.122).

The publicity officer’s role is one that aims to publicise their product/artist/band and it is this role that receives attention in accusations of manipulation. However, as Negus argues, music journalists are “often viewed as part of the audience” of popular music (p.118) and it is also

possible to argue that publicity officers are also part of this community. Part of the role of

publicity is to know your audience, and for this profession this is not only the audiences of

particular music titles, but also what particular music cultures are consuming at a particular

time, and to understand how your product ‘fits’ into wider music consumption activity. In

this formulation, we can come to understand publicity and press officers as content providers that, to an extent, research the needs and the desires of the audience and use this to present their content to the music press.

Q’s content provides the best example of this process, leaning towards artists and bands that have achieved more notable popularity than artists featured in the likes of NME. Although it has been argued throughout this thesis that their choice of artists and genres is extremely diverse and eclectic, reviews, just like in other music press titles’, are often condemnatory. A case in point being the artist Dido, whose album received two stars (out of five) suggesting it was a below average album. When questioned about why she would then receive a cover story (Q, July 2001) one of the title’s journalist argued that because Dido’s CD has sold millions of copies around the world it means “there is a story in it” which says “something about music at the moment” (Lynskey). A form of music journalism that converses can be traced between readers and writers here. Firstly, many consumers are buying the album that brings it to the attention of the publication (consumption conversing with practice). In order to complete the story, press officers are relied on to provide an interview time and any background knowledge they believe the readers of Q would be interested in (publicity officer as surrogate reader/consumer). The final act of interviewing and writing up is completed by the journalist who constructs and submits the final copy for publication. The cover story on

Dido is less about convincing than it is an act of conversing, made possible, in this instance, by the role of the publicity officer.

The textual features of this process can be demonstrated in another cover story in Q that

features pop artist Justin Timberlake (Q, January 2004). The article opens with a series of

short punctuated sentences that neatly summarise knowledge that circulates outside the music

press:

Cameron Diaz wants his body. McDonald’s want his brains. And American TV? They just want him to pulverise a Muppet. All in a day’s work for Justin Timberlake, 2003’s all- singing, all-humping megastar. He’s started shaving too.. (Odell 2004, p.95)

Gaining access to someone with the profile of Timberlake obviously requires the

involvement of a publicity officer, something that the feature makes no attempt to hide. Yet,

while their involvement here has allowed the story to be created in the first place, the act of

conversing with a readership that has read countless features about this artist in a variety of outlets is telling. Rather than toe a common thread, the author takes great effort to recognise the content that already exists about Timberlake and works with it. He writes:

All the things you’ve heard about him aren’t true. No, he doesn’t smoke pot with his mum. No, he doesn’t really play Xbox morning, noon and night. No, he doesn’t really ride his Harley-Davidsons much (p.100).

Examples such as these have little in common with an approach to music journalism that

aims to convince. Music journalism as conversing is more interested in acknowledging not

just the consumption of music but also consumption of other media products and other outlets

of journalism. This is the textual form of postmodern music journalism. Journalism that

converses does not have to be understood as being dictated by trends. Rather, in recognising

trends and utilising the role of surrogate content providers, this type of journalism seeks to

display the complexities involved in the circulation of meaning in the music press.

Know Your NME

All rock mags are consumer guides, which is why the NME does well when British guitar music is big and less well when it isn't. NME and Q are recommenders of music and, if they're unreliable, they do badly. Just like Woolworths (Quantick).

The above quote from freelance journalist David Quantick demonstrates that although the

NME prefer to promote their music journalism as providing something other than consumer guidance, the role is one that is central to their visibility. This was reflected, to an extent, in

its approach to the music industry and its consumers discussed earlier and was one that

resulted in alienating those readers who were looking towards the publication for guidance as

opposed to reactionary language. Following on from the assertion that ‘everything is fucked’,

the NME had an editorial rethink (Oldham) that resulted in the title returning to what had created their critical reputation since the time of punk in the UK. This was formally

announced in 1999 when the then editor of the NME stated that he was intending to “restore the paper’s reputation as a convincing arbiter of taste” (Sutherland, quoted in Wazir 1999).

The NME was about to re-embrace the attributes of modern music journalism.

It has been argued throughout that the NME’s publication frequency allows it to indulge in a

greater turnaround of bands and artists that results in them often championing the ‘next big

thing’. Yet, it would seem that this role is having a greater resonance beyond its readership,

with its opinions and judgments appearing in other media outlets. At the same time as playing

the convincer for its readerships, it seems that the NME is also convincing other journalists,

as this long but useful quote from an editorial suggests:

Our enthusiastic endorsement of [the band] The White Stripes found its way into the most unlikely places, from Radio 4’s Today programme to The Guardian and The Times, all the way down to The Sun and The Mirror. And while it is all good, there’s something tragic about the way ambulance chasers like The Sun’s showbiz vulture Dominic Mohan claim to have discovered this thrilling new Detroit band. Still, never mind. Just remember where you read about The White Stripes first. NME is never wrong and has exquisite taste in music. Why read anything else? (Martin 2001).

Convincing takes conviction, and that seems to no longer be a problem for the writers at the

NME as the above quote demonstrates. Yet, at the same time, the writer correctly

acknowledges how their role of convincers resulted in a band gaining mainstream popularity

and coverage outside of the traditional media, with tabloid papers like The Sun and The

Mirror, that would rarely deal with an Alternative act like The White Stripes. The varying

music journalism approaches may reveal a fragmentation that reflects the various discourses

of popular music, but these variations exist within a relational framework. How the role of

music journalist as convincer is played, and how it demonstrates a chain of meaning that results in various forms of music journalism coexisting together is illustrated in the following examples.

When interviewed about the current state of popular music in 2001, the then deputy editor of the NME said that there:

is about to be a resurgence in what people call Indie. Bands like The Strokes, The White Stripes and an Australian band called The Vines are coming through – and they are exciting and they are very much in our ballpark (Oldham).

At the time, none of the bands had achieved any kind of notoriety. Indeed, it is fair to argue that, at that time, those outside of the NME’s readership would never have heard of these acts.

Yet the writers at the NME were very keen to convince not only its readers but the wider public that these acts were heralding a return to a genre of music that has been sidelined since the popularity of Britpop. And if sales are a measurement of success, then the impressive movement of each of the three band’s CDs during 2001 and 2002 suggests that someone was being convinced.

The Strokes were the first of these bands to be heralded in this ‘new’ movement and the impetus behind pushing their music was explained by Oldham who argued that the band:

live that inspirational rock and roll life – you know, live fast die young. It’s a cliché, but if a band does it well enough it always feels like it is being done for the first time. We said that they were the most exciting band to come out of New York in 25 years – I don’t even give a shit if it is right or not, that’s what the NME should be saying.

And say it they did. At the beginning of 2001, NME reviewed the debut single by The Strokes arguing that is was the “latest in a thrilling line of American bands reinvigorating rock with taut guitar lines, stunning dynamics and great hair” (Empire 2001). Two weeks later, the band

were featured in ‘On’, a regular section of the paper dedicated to up and coming bands. This

time they were declared as being “at the forefront of the American rock renaissance”

(Oldham 2001). What followed was an almost weekly in the NME’s news section that

detailed forthcoming record releases and tours as well as any personal and/or band

information that could be uncovered. By the time their debut album (knowingly entitled ‘Is

This It?’) was released in July of that year NME were happy to nominate it as “one of the best

and most characterful debut albums of the last 20 years”, with the band themselves displaying

“every quality rock ‘n’ roll requires from its finest exponents” (Robinson 2001).

The above scenario is a familiar one within the pages of the NME. Being a weekly

publication, it is not uncommon for them to have a high turnover of favourite artists as well

as providing a nesting ground for newer acts like The Strokes. But, in the case of The

Strokes, a number of sell-out shows across the UK in June of 2001, attended by celebrities

such as Kate Moss and Noel Gallagher, seem to suggest their place in their musical

mediasphere was somewhat more assured, as other publications started to take notice. Q branded them as “the world’s most hippest band” (Lowe 2001) in July of that year and, in reviewing the band’s debut album, the Guardian noted the hysteria surrounding the band by saying it had left many music journalists “grabbing frantically for the smelling salts” (Petridis

2001). In the months that followed, Q ran an article reflecting on the enthusiasm surrounding the band’s London performance (see McMurtrie 2001), which included a special section where attendees, rather than the journalist, gave their opinion of the performance. The textual approach to constructing meaning about The Strokes is indicative of how different performances of music journalism coexist. NME plays the convincer, which usually requires being the originator, in this example, of content and comment regarding a virtually unknown band. Q, as explained above, seems to be conversing with its readers regarding the mania

‘created’ by the NME over this particular band, which even leads them at one point to hand over the reporting duties to the audience as a way of placing itself outside the convincing approach. The Guardian, in its review, surveys the greater space of music journalism with sly

comments about how certain music journalists place too much emphasis on the next big thing

resulting in a “band in a storm of hype, trying to deflect criticism and anticipate the inevitable

backlash” (Petridis 2001). In this example, convincing and conversing approaches are

consumed by the Guardian, which uses these as part of their broader commentary. No

version of the music journalism is the true pure one, but, rather, they rely on each other to

contribute new ways of recognising the often-competing discourses of popular music.

With The Strokes’ success and coverage extending beyond the pages of the NME within

months of first being covered, it would seem that a little confidence crept into their role as

convincers. As the frenzy surrounding The Strokes continued, NME was busy convincing its

readers of yet another act who “were every bit as devastating as The Strokes” (Mulvey 2001).

Coverage surrounding The White Stripes completely overshadowed that of The Strokes and,

as the previously quoted NME editorial noted, within four weeks of the band gaining a

mention in the NME the band had received coverage in every major newspaper in the UK

(see Figure 25) as well as being discussed as the future of rock by BBC’s Radio Four. The

Independent, for example, noted, “to describe the Detroit duo the White Stripes as "hotly

tipped" is something of an understatement” (Jelbert 2001). The Guardian was a little more

elaborate: Figure 25

NME’s Report on the Coverage of The White Stripes

From NME, August 18, 2001, p.3

So you haven’t heard of Meg and Jack White otherwise known as the White Stripes? Then you’re not trying, because the blues-rocking Detroit duo siblings have been all over the place, including the cover of the NME, Radio 4’s Today programme, and the Guardian’s news pages. This is, of course, without having released a record in Britain, because what they sound like (not bad, in fact) is incidental to the snob value of championing a band nobody else can hear (Sullivan 2001).

Neatly summarising the situation facing The White Stripes, Q chipped in – “so far, so

Strokes” (Allen 2001). This particular example of music journalism demonstrates something

that approaches to news journalism and analyses of music journalism do not – that journalists

themselves are consumers not only of music texts but of each other’s work. Those, for

example, who criticise a publication like Q for reflecting rather than setting trends (Barrow and Newby 1995, p.129) seem to misunderstand that contemporary music journalism is reliant on the structures of convincing and conversing as a means of contributing to the discourse of popular music. As Leadbeater (1999) notes, contemporary consumption is no longer an act, rather, it is better understood as a relationship (p.32) that, in this instance, provides journalists outside the music press with an approach that articulates their content.

The music press works at maintaining their relationships that often represent different types of consumers, and the practice of music journalism too is one that is made up of a series of consumption relationships. Music journalists, like different readerships, will consume the various critical approaches offered by differing music titles and their particular practitioners.

It is the consumption of these that inform their various approaches to content and which leads to varying forms of music journalism coexisting rather than overriding each other.

The convincing and conversing practices of music journalism in the UK continued into 2002

with yet another act being championed by the NME. Following on from their successful year of convincing the public of the merits of The Strokes and The White Stripes, NME claimed

that Australian band The Vines “are going to be this year’s Strokes” (Oldham 2002a).

Comparing the two bands, one reviewer gets a little carried away with his assertion that The

Vines get “you thinking that if The Strokes were the John the Baptists of rock, then just maybe…” (Fox 2002). Jesus! Obviously the title is still performing the role whereby it is convincing not only its own readers but also other journalists of the worth of this band. In recognition of the previous year’s mass media coverage of ‘their’ bands, a review of The

Vines’ second single came with a little self-reflexivity in its approach to convince when they argued – “We’re not joking. This is a record you must own” (Oldham 2002b, emphasis in

original). The Vines, much like The Strokes, evoke some of the ‘news values’ inherent in the

NME’s approach to new talent, in that they are perceived as being volatile, good-looking,

appropriately attired and unpredictable. These values seem to be confirmed by the

Guardian’s review of The Vines debut album. They wrote:

If you can hear something weird in the background while their debut album plays, it’s the sound of music press features editors exploding with delight. (Petridis 2002b)

Obviously, like all forms of journalism, music journalism relies on good copy. Those who

perform the convincing role especially require a set of values that are established between the

reader and the writer as to what counts as ‘new’-worthy. Comparatively, those who journalistic texts that display signs of consuming rely on these particular values to critique the role of the convincers. This leaves those who converse to articulate and find a textual space somewhere in between the two approaches, one that not only recognises the play of discourse embedded in these approaches but also the frameworks and critical approaches that are central in the establishment and maintenance of their readerships. So it is with Q who, in surveying the approaches offered in understanding The Vines, announce on the cover of their

July 2002 issue – “The Vines – They’re Really, Really Good”.

Journalism, iPods and the ‘50 Quid Bloke’

The interrelated contemporary practice of music journalism outlined above is one that reaches certain readerships, but it is also one that recognises the continually evolving practices of consumption associated with popular music. Styles described as convincing and conversing aim to address very different types of consumers as well as complimenting the frameworks attributed to a title’s brand values. Media platforms that consume other music journalism frames in their copy may indeed be attempting to court both. At the beginning of

2004 it is possible to argue that these co-existing forms of journalistic practice recognise two contemporary conceptualisations of the music consumer – the iPod consumer and the ‘50

Quid Bloke’. Both of these consumers seek different guidance for different reasons and impart a sense that the “generation gap, once about content, has shifted to modes of consumption” (de Lisle 2004).

Apple Mac launched its portable MP3 player, the iPod, in 2003 and the product is becoming more successful as broadband connection becomes more prominent. What is remarkable about this player is its ability to store up to 10,000 songs and has a menu that allows the user to create a series of play lists that may feature entire albums or, more commonly, random compilations created by the user. Powers (2004) argues that this technology has a number of important ramifications, two of which are pertinent to this thesis. Firstly, iPod challenges the format of the album by explicitly inviting users to create their own track listing which, in turn, refocuses the attention onto the single, much like popular music consumption in the

1950s and 1960s did. Secondly, she states that this challenges music journalisms’ charter which, she argues, is obsessed with the album format. Powers suggests that music journalism’s challenge is to now forgo concentrating on the album format and to find “a way to talk about songs in a way that mirrors the speed by which consumers are now experiencing them” (n.p).

The ‘50 Quid Bloke’ is a term borrowed from retail workers in the UK and has been employed by independent publisher and former music journalist David Hepworth to describe the emergence of a new consumer. Hepworth says the ‘50 Quid Bloke’ is:

the guy we've all seen in Borders or HMV on a Friday afternoon, possibly after a drink or two, tie slightly undone, buying two CDs, a DVD and maybe a book - fifty quid's worth - and frantically computing how he's going to convince his partner that this is a really, really worthwhile investment (quoted in de Lisle 2004)

The ‘50 Quid Bloke’ is an example of how the consumption of popular music is often part of a person’s leisure time, rather than necessarily inferring a sense of lifestyle. Importantly, this figure is understood to be the key to the music industry’s concerns about declining CD sales, as “for the first time, people in their 40s are buying more albums than teenagers [and] soon, half of albums will be bought by people who have passed their 40th birthday” (de Lisle

2004). By equating the ‘50 Quid Bloke’ with a reference to age, the appeal of titles such as

Mojo and Uncut becomes obvious; engaging as they do with artists and frameworks that verge on nostalgic. However, what the ‘50 Quid Bloke’ also implies is that music is part of a range of consumable goods vying for the attention span of the consumer. Additionally, the iPod consumer has the same clutter, but one that consists entirely of music rather than other cultural products. It is in these configurations that the music press, and the contemporary

practice of music journalism, continues to perform its long standing role.

The iPod consumer is served by the function of both the convincer and the converser. It is

here that music journalism, in all its forms (online and offline), provides the role of a search

engine for the consumer. If iPod consumers demonstrate an interest in single songs, as

proposed by Powers (2004), then it is in the language of titles such as the NME that these consumers will find the song they must own. Why they must own it is often not explained, and it is here where the role of music journalism as conversing comes into play. More reflective of the contemporary music landscape, titles such as Q provide a contextual framework that irreverently informs these iPod consumers about what is big in popular music and often why this is the case. If the iPod consumer is a reader of music journalism, it is the combination of these two approaches that allows them to be up to date while providing them with a sense of knowledge that serves as musical capital, which may influence searching out other MP3s by the same or similar artists.

The ‘50 Quid Bloke’ seems more likely to be satisfied with journalistic content that reflects a

conversing framework. As Hepworth notes in his description of the character, “he” is

concerned with “convincing” his partner on the purchases that have been made. The role of

music journalism as convincer rarely offers a set of criteria that this ‘bloke’ could employ in

his attempts to convince. Whilst Mojo and Uncut provide a guidance service for this

consumer that often deals with established and/or emerging artists through an

educational/aesthetic approach, titles like Q, and music journalism that appears in daily

newspapers is more contemporary. In these media outlets other journalists’ opinions are summarised, scrutinised and criticised along with the bands and artist themselves. This

creates a textual environment where these consumers are able to find out what they need to

know about new bands, as well as some feisty comparisons to others in the music scene

which works to justify certain choices over others. Indeed, it may be fair to argue that the

patterns of the ‘50 Quid Bloke’ are what provide journalism of this nature with its impetus

for investigation in the first place.

Both the iPod consumer and the ‘50 Quid Bloke’ are served by lists published in the music

press that are more general than the end of year lists explored in Chapter Four. These lists often take the form of the cover story and will include content such as ‘The Greatest Artists of All Time’, ‘Singles that Changed Your Life’, ‘Rock’s Craziest Stars’ and ‘The Best Music

Videos Ever’. When interviewed for this research, journalists working for the titles said that these lists are more prominent around the beginning of the year when appropriate content for a cover story is minimal (Lowe). But the increasing visibility of these types of covers suggest a categorisation process being promoted by music journalism, one that supports not only their own title’s brand values but those values attributed to consumption by the iPod user and the

‘50 Quid Bloke’. Each title chooses its list based on its framework approach. For example, Q incorporates everybody from Abba to the Sex Pistols for its ‘50 Bands that Changed the

World’ (Q May 2004); Mojo promotes its role of educator – ‘The 50 Greatest Reggae

Albums of All Time’ (Mojo August 2000); the NME chooses Indie/Alternative act Joy

Division to top the list of its ‘100 Greatest Singles of All Time’ (NME November 2002); and

Uncut, in adhering to its auteur approach, publishes the ‘Top 40 [Bob] Dylan Tracks of All

Time’ (Uncut June, 2002). These lists can be understood as serving a double purpose. First, as marketing commentators have argued, being highly “reliant on trends, the music market is

one of the hardest sectors for consumer magazines to keep up with” due to the “frequent

shifts” in consumer interests (Porter 2004). These lists can be seen as a way of circumventing

these trends by offering, via the cover, a way to lure new readers to the title based on the interest generated by a particular list. This configuration includes those such as the iPod

consumer and the ‘50 Quid Bloke’, who may not already be part of an established readership.

Rather than become actively involved in music journalism, they dip in and out of its guidance

charter via the promise offered by these lists. Whether examples of convincing or conversing,

these lists are about consuming and, as such, the music press has the opportunity to continue

to guide consumption, even to those emerging collectives who are not necessarily part of

their established readership.

This chapter has mapped the contemporary practice of music journalism in the UK and has

argued that it is one that takes the form of convincing and conversing. Additionally, when

surveying the approaches notable in music journalism that appears outside the music press,

the act of journalists consuming the various critical frameworks of music journalism becomes

apparent. As with the different titles explored in this thesis both in the UK and Australia,

music journalism is a practice that works to serve very different audiences. Whereas

journalism in consumer music press titles themselves can be recognised as speaking to

different readers/consumers of popular music, practices that exist outside this particular

medium speak to different collectives. For example, ‘lad mags’ and tabloid reporting use very

different frameworks to interpret the value of music and its performers and may even position

the music, rather than the performer, in second place. Music journalism that appears in daily newspaper titles often works to address a much wider public who may not necessarily be interested in a particular genre or movement and who are, therefore, presented with a summary of critical frameworks that have usually been instigated elsewhere. Like emerging forms of journalism, such as travel, fashion and technological journalism, these are particular

types of practice that cohabit the textual sphere of meaning-making.

The discourse of contemporary music journalism is an interrelated one and it is this

interrelation that contributes to meaning making for readerships. There is a dialogue between

titles that convince, converse and consume, with each of these approaches serving different types of music consumers. With the NME’s ‘convince’ approach recalling earlier examples of

music journalism, it is journalism that converses and consumes that challenges assumptions about the role of this practice. It is these approaches that are often mistaken for a shift in the

values of music journalism, where the creative is forgone in favour of the celebration of

commodification. As this chapter has shown, however, emerging consumers such as the iPod

consumer and the ‘50 Quid Bloke’ have very different demands of music journalism from those who formed its readership in the 1950s, 1960s and so on. The early period of the music

press found it engaging with a very different set of music consumers, as well as having a

unique hold over this market. But evolution not revolution is the key here, and as music

journalism, music consumption and, indeed, technology continue to evolve, so too do the

approaches, the relationships and the dialogues involved in a medium that is writing to reach

you. Conclusion

Don’t Look Back: Understanding the Future of Music Journalism

“The future of music journalism? Maybe Sting will buy the world and force us to write epic poems about him…” (Quantick)

During interviews undertaken for this thesis, practising journalists in the UK and Australia were asked to comment on the future of music journalism. Apart from Quantick’s dystopian, tongue-in-cheek vision quoted above, respondents were confident that the performance of music journalism would continue to be relevant for future generations. Those working for music titles in both countries were very aware of the practice’s history and argued that it is this nostalgia that invariably leads to claims about the death of the music press and the death of the profession. Certainly, accounts tinged with nostalgia suggest that things have changed, but nostalgia involves looking back rather than ‘looking at’. The music press may no longer attract the number of readers it once had, but it still performs its discursive role, consumer guidance, in a number of ways, often to niche readerships. As with all discourses, the processes underpinning them are subject to change and this thesis has charted the influence that has led to these changes. Only by forgoing a revisionist approach and understanding music journalism, like all media production, as evolutionary, can a greater understanding of the contemporary practice be reached.

In order to understand the changes in the critical frameworks that are employed by the different performances, I have argued for the importance of recognising music journalism as a dialogue. Understanding the dialogue between reader and writer in the music press aims to complement the work that focuses more specifically on market analysis. All forms of

journalism are influenced by market and organisational imperatives and are important aspects

in accounting for the contemporary performances of music journalism. My focus on dialogue,

however, demonstrates how the relationship between reader and writer is prone to change, and this change leads to the co-existence of different performances of music journalism.

Market analysis is useful for a general understanding of how different products address different audiences, but this thesis has demonstrated that paying attention to consumption practices complements such an approach. Consumers might be disorganised, but they are influential. Different types of music consumers will require different frameworks for guidance. This is what shapes the contemporary performances of music journalism.

Chapter One surveyed previous research into both music journalism and the consumer music press. The intention behind this literature review was to map the common frameworks for analysis employed by these writers in addition to collating what they considered to be the

most important findings of their research. Prominent findings included;

ƒ Critical framing for guiding the consumption of popular music shifted from the

employment of authenticity to an approach that embraced wider contextual concerns,

such as commodification and the industry/culture nexus. This is a shift that has been

classified as a move from a modern to a postmodern form of music journalism.

ƒ Organisation imperatives, especially those associated with music press publishing in

the UK, are understood have had a restrictive effect of the performance of music

journalism. This is a situation exacerbated by the advent of branding magazines and

the strategy of brand extensions. ƒ Music journalism is a performance, according to some authors, that is organised along

lines of genre. In this schema, music journalism’s critical framing will be influenced

by the popular music genre that is its subject.

ƒ Finally, that is a sense of inter-relatedness with regards to the circulation of discourse

between music journalism that appears in established consumer press titles and that

which appears in other outlets.

It is these findings that structured the investigation that aims to uncover the influences on the critical frameworks that make up the performances of music journalism.

With these findings noted, Chapter Two set out to explore the shift from the modern to postmodern performances of music journalism. With academic research into this paradigm largely situated within the UK and the US, this chapter complimented those analyses by undertaking a close historical examination of the Australian music press. Rather than necessarily being a comparative analysis, the aim was to understand whether the findings noted by other researchers were transnational ones. This historical overview argued that the following factors could be understood as contributing to changes in the critical frameworks employed by music journalism:

ƒ the shift from consuming music via performance to the adaptation of sheet music

ƒ the gradual replacement of sheet music by newer musical technologies such as the

radio and ‘45’s’ (singles)

ƒ the increasing importance of the ‘LP’ (album) and its gradual dominance as a

preferred mode of music purchase ƒ the shift from a dominance of what can be called pop music to the co-existence of

many different and popular genres by the end of the 1970s (rock, soul, punk, pop,

‘prog-rock’ etc).

The schema outlined above contributes to the review of literature in the previous chapter and

demonstrates the insights that may be drawn from deeper analysis. For example, a shift from

framing criticism via authenticity to a more contextual/light-hearted approach was influenced

by the arrival of Smash Hits. Smash Hits showed that different music consumers responded to

different frameworks of guidance and opened the way for consumer music titles to expand

the repertoire of music journalism. The resultant fragmentation of music journalisms does not

need to be thought of as a loss of the true ideal of music journalism. As this historical

analysis demonstrated, performances of music journalism have been evolving continually

since the earliest examples of the practice first emerged. This is particularly evident between

the late 1970s and the late 1980s as the fragmentation of popular music genres results in a

variety of music press publications and music journalism performances emerging.

The literature review pointedly suggested that organisational influences had impacted on the performances of music journalism and accordingly Chapter Three surveyed publishing groups in the UK and Australian to ascertain the extent of this proposition. While the previous chapter had noted that a relationship between the consumption of popular music and the production of music journalism, this chapter was interested to note whether this

relationship was one that apparent in the publishing of consumer music press titles. Although

a deep examination of Australian publishing was limited by scale, analysis of EMAP and IPC

Media in the UK showed how these groups have structured their publishing approach into networks that aim to target specific groups of consumers. As the analysis showed, this is an

endeavour that aims to capitalise on the possibilities afforded by new media platforms such

as the digital television and radio as well as non-media related moves such as sponsorship.

The relevance of the relationship between consumption and production becomes more

obvious when investigating the branding strategies of EMAP and IPC Media. While there

were authors who argued that these organisational strategies weaken the personality of music

journalism, this chapter’s analysis demonstrated that moves to other media platforms rely on

titles having a defined critical framework that recognises the types of popular consumers that make up their readership. This is made obvious by moves into digital radio and television that require large amounts of material, resulting in content that goes beyond the limits of the printed title. Comparatively, brand extensions that do not necessarily rely on new media platforms (such as sponsorship, mini-magazines, award shows), seem to be more effectively recognising the differing types of consumers that make up their printed version readerships.

The exploratory nature of this chapter reveals that music journalism will continue to evolve when the values central to the readerships of the music press are realised in other formats.

This doesn’t need to be understood as weakening the purpose of music journalism. Rather, these sites for the performance of music journalism complement those already in existence and provide another textual dimension for readers of these consumer music press titles.

Furthermore, rather than hindering the dialogue apparent in these titles, the brand extensions capitalise and work to increase that very dialogue.

With Section One surveying the historical and organisation factors that have influenced the

production of music journalism in the broadest sense, Section Two aimed to undertake a more detailed analysis of particular sites for these performances. Whereas Section One had

noted that music journalism might be thought of as being organised along a ‘generic-

discursive’ model, the reality that many titles exist dealing with similar popular music genres requires further attention. The generic-discursive model argues that it is possible to understand the critical framing of music journalism as defined by the popular music genres covered. However, Chapter Four demonstrated that this model has undergone change within differences existing with titles dealing with the same genre as exemplified by an analysis of the UK rock music press.

The analysis in Chapter Four served several purposes. First, via an examination of the critical

frameworks of all the titles associated with the UK rock press, Select and Melody Maker’s

approach to music journalism was not distinctive enough for them to maintain readers. As

such, the absence of unique critical frameworks within a generic-discursive model results in

declining circulation figures leading to the closure of both titles. Chapter Four, then,

compliments a marketing approach that recognises the importance of circulation figures in

the survival of performances of music journalism. This chapter continued to argue for

importance of recognising the relationship between consumption and production in the sphere

of music journalism. Each of the titles investigated demonstrated critical frameworks that

worked to address particular music consumers. These can be explained as follows:

ƒ the NME employs a highly opinionated approach, is interested in a constant turnover

of acts and touting the ‘next big thing’. NME readers can be understood as those who

have a strong investment in the consumption of popular music

ƒ Q is observational and contextual in its approach, and, through humour, surveys the

music landscape and the popularity of genres and bands/acts that are of interest to its readers. Its readers are those who want a summary of contemporary music. While its

readers can be understood as active consumers, they have a weak investment in this

consumption in comparison to NME readerships.

ƒ Mojo’s readers are baby-boomers who are still active music consumers but may

require more information as to why their interest should be aroused. Mojo’s critical

approach is one that is educational, framing, as it does, consumer guidance in

reference to more established and popular acts from previous eras.

ƒ Uncut’s readership/consumer configuration is very similar to that of Mojo, yet the

implicit differences question the usefulness of the generic-discursive framework.

Evoking aesthetics and centring on the individual (musician and often journalist), I

argue that this title’s approach is one that is recognisable within the auteur framework

that often celebrates texts as being representative of individual genius. To a certain

extent, this title celebrates a type of music journalism popularised throughout the

1970s.

This observations address the final purpose of this chapter – to indicate the association

between critical framing and the possibility of branding outlined in Chapter Three. This

thesis compliments the political economy analysis of the UK music press, but argues it is

distinctive performances that allow branding strategies to be enacted. This challenges the ‘top

down’ approach associated with business practices such as these and reinstates the importance of recognising the impact the changing consumers of popular music, and their consumption habits, have had on the performance of music journalism and the maintenance of particular consumer music titles.

Consumer guidance for different types of music consumers is central to the discourse of music journalism and it is a role that translates into different national contexts as Chapter

Five argues. But how this guidance translates into particular performances in these national contexts again relies on particular patterns of popular music consumption as evidenced by this chapter’s focus on another genre of the music press – the street press. The street press of

Australia are free weekly publications that are published in most capital cities and are providers of information regarding popular music. This chapter demonstrated that in order to understand why this type of music journalism is the most visible one in Australia it was necessary to first understand how the consumption of popular music has been symbolically realised in that country. I argued that the dominance of pub rock throughout the 1970s contributed to a consumption of popular music that was often based around specific music venues, but more visibly based around city localities. The emergence of the street press conforms to this suggestion, as analysis of its contents revealed journalism in this context is that which constructs its readership based on place. Timing and relevance, rather than critical framing, are of necessary importance here as content is directed to be contemporary and specific in its address to music consumers based around specific localities.

The importance of location in the street press allows parallels with this performance of music journalism to be drawn with aspects of community media. Evoking the global/local paradigm, the street press redraw the importance of the local and perform a service to a local music culture by:

ƒ providing an alternative to mainstream and national/global media content

ƒ the promotion of local performers, venues, studios, etc

ƒ classified listings that often deal with aspects central to local music production ƒ acting as mediators between audiences, performances and local industries.

These findings were made possible by undertaking a focused analysis on the Brisbane street

press, which allowed further conclusions to be drawn. As local cultures attempt to reinstall a sense of identity in the wake of globalisation, popular music culture is one of the ways this process can be undertaken. It is here that the music journalism of the street press acts as the

glue that binds local music cultures with the local creative economy, reinforcing a sense of

local identity through the role it performs.

Section Two of the thesis continued to map the relationship between consumption of popular

music and the production of music journalism and noted how this resulted in varying and

often more dominant performances in different national contexts. Nevertheless, both chapters

contributed to the overall search for the influences impacting on the critical frameworks

employed by music journalism performances as well as noting the possibilities afforded by

these different approaches (i.e. branding, local identity). Section Three, however, was

interested in understanding the perceived challenges to these established performances by

emerging media (the Internet) as well as journalism about music in other outlets (tabloid

magazines, etc). While these challenges are transnational ones, analysis was organised

around the examples of the UK rock press covered in the previous section for the sake of

narrative cohesion.

Chapter Six undertook an examination of the complementary existence of different performances to be found on the Internet. By looing initially at sites established to compliment the printed versions of the UK rock press, I argued that the critical framing that

guided content in the magazines can be found in their online form. Online sites such as NME.com were seen to be displaying similar preferences to genres and bands to those

established in the printed version. In this instance, it is what is pre-established rather than the possibilities of new technology that influence the construction of content. Rather than suggesting a threat to established performances of music journalism, online sites rely on the dialogues offline in order to amplify their relationships with their readers.

With some of these sites displaying limited content, analysis of the bulletin boards on the

sites for Mojo, Uncut and the NME reveals an adherence to the critical frameworks of the

printed titles. Within these boards, users engage in conversation with other readers that is

guided by the frameworks established in print. For example, having argued that Mojo’s

framework is one that can be understood as educational, analysis of their bulletin boards

confirmed this approach. Threads such as “Whatever Happened To..’ and “Rare Grooves”

provide this online community with frames of reference which results in the dialogue online

being informed by the dialogic relationship that has been established off-line. My argument

that these frames of reference speak to different consumers of popular music is also apparent

in the links to purchase goods online that are prominent on most of the sites investigated.

Here, it was demonstrated that consumption choices for users are those informed by the

frameworks particular to the titles. Although the types of goods available display

commonality (t-shirts, CDs, concert tickets etc) differences will be noted in the bands/artists

promoted within this online market environment.

The increasing prevalence of MP3 technology offers something new for consumers of

popular music, and music sites on the Internet are poised to capitalise as guides and gateways

for this new mode of purchasing music. Yet they are not without competition, as the analysis of fans sites on the Internet in this chapter showed. Fan sites, whether established by an

artist’s record company or by individual fans themselves, offer what I argued is a form of personalised content. Most obviously this refers to the centeredness of content on the one

performer and/or band. But the term personalised is one that recognises the purchasing

choices, including MP3s, available on these sites. Whereas established music press titles such

as Q and NME can be understood as customised in their content construction and their links

to online purchasing, personalised sites are narrower in focus with an appeal that is unlikely

to reach beyond other fans. Nevertheless, what the analysis of this chapter demonstrates is

how these different approaches to the music information can and do coexist, serving, as they

do, different consumers of popular music who require different types of guidance.

Chapter Six contributes to understanding the contemporary performances of music

journalism, for too often its visibility in media, apart from the established titles, is understood

as contributing to its eventual death. This is an unnecessary conclusion, as the final chapter of

this thesis argues. In both Australia and the UK, music journalism is routinely included in

broadsheet and tabloid newspapers by way of feature articles and/or regular music columns.

This diffusion of music journalism, like the existence of personalised and customised sites on

the Internet, is one of coexistence with established music titles in the UK rock press and

marks quite a different performance of music journalism to that found in the daily

newspapers. By comparing approaches employed by different music press titles, as well as

those in a selection of UK newspapers, this chapter argued that it is possible to note an

interrelated landscape of music journalism production. If music journalism is about guiding

consumption, Chapter Seven demonstrated that some types of journalism aim to convince

their readers, others converse with their readers about their consumption choices, whereas emerging platforms for the practice consume and summarise other music journalism

approaches to guide their collective of readers. These different approaches make sense via

their interdependency and show how it is possible to note a value chain of meaning within

contemporary music journalism.

In the UK rock music press, journalism that aims to convince can be largely attributed to the

NME. Analysis of reviews for bands such as The Strokes, The White Stripes and The Vines

revealed performance that urged readers to consume these particular products based on a didactic approach. It was demonstrated here that a title like the NME is reliant on a continual turnover of artists in the search for the next big thing and it rarely reveals any sense of traditional critical criteria. Comparatively, it is by displaying signs of engagement that I argued that Q performs music journalism analogous to a form of conversing. Although the title is also interested in newer acts, these bands are prone to gaining coverage once the convincers like the NME have established them. Additionally, this approach to journalism informs the way the content of Q is structured. Journalism that converses, in my schema, are those titles that tend to follow and report on contemporary artists, bands and genres that are understood to be resonating with their readers through achieving some sort of visibility in relevant musical cultures. Convincing and conversing are important links in the chain of meaning in this case study of music journalism as they work towards another dimension in understanding why differences exist within the textual system of music journalism.

Via analysis, I argued in this final chapter that music journalism that appears in the UK

newspapers can be categorised as that which consumes. Specifically, this categorisation

refers to how these journalists often construct a story or review will employ discourses about particular artists instigated by the frameworks of the established music press titles. Rather

than assuming a particular position, consuming journalism often gently mocks that which

takes place outside of its own pages and works towards not only summarising what readers

need to know about a particular musical act but also what other music journalists are saying.

Importantly, this approach to performing music journalism coexists with those that convince

and converse, and it is the complementary nature of these approaches that allows further

conclusions to be drawn.

If music journalism is about consumer guidance, then performances that convince, converse

and consume recognise that the consumption of popular music is continually evolving and

transforming. As argued in the final chapter, emerging conceptions of potential readers in the

guise of the iPod consumer and the ‘50 Quid Bloke’ give some insight into why music

journalism can be recognised in its present form. iPod users are those who need guidance through the huge amount of choice now being offered online (and via the technology itself)

and may be addressed by the urgency of the convincers or the filtering service offered by the

converses. The ‘50 Quid Bloke’ buys music along with DVDs and books and would be more suited to the summative approach provided by the music journalism that consumes. Both of these consumer types are relatively unpredictable subjects in comparison to, for example, the

pop fan and/or the heavy metal head, but they do impart an understanding of why music journalism itself has been subject to so much change.

As the consumption of popular music continues to change, so too do the services that aim to

guide that consumption. Music journalism is one such service, and it is one with a history that

goes beyond the technologies of consumption (vinyl, cassette, CD, etc) that have informed its role. Media platforms that were supposedly threatened by the emerging technologies are still

present – but often with new and improved services. So it is with the consumer music press –

the formats will change, but the medium of expression will remain in both online and printed

versions. As scholarly work continues to investigate how media platforms evolve, this thesis

argues that the practice of music journalism needs to be understood in a similar light. The

textual forms of the media, especially journalism, are prone to evolution, and criticisms that

involve nostalgic accounts offer little to understand new conceptualisations in the relationship

between media and society.

This thesis has also shown that the performance of journalism can be understood without recourse to political or public sphere properties. Not all forms of journalism serve a political

purpose as, for example, fashion, travel and food journalism all adequately prove. Music

journalism is about trust and about consumer guidance and stands as an example that

differences exist within the practice of journalism. Analysing production, circulation and

texts is one of the ways that the total form of music journalism can be understood. But within

whole textual systems, such as music journalism, deeper analysis reveals how differences

within these whole systems often exist. Through the case study of music journalism presented

here, what becomes apparent is the need to focus on how relationships between readers and

writers are maintained in genres of journalism that do not fit within the analyses offered by scholars of news journalism. This thesis argues that analysis needs to recognise dialogue, for it is in the evolution of this dialogue that the influence of the cultural and the social become

apparent. This leads to a greater understanding of the dynamics of media production.

In line with the argument presented in this thesis, this conclusion does not offer a definitive

prediction for the future of music journalism. Nevertheless, for the service to survive,

practitioners need to be skilled not only in the art of practice, but also in recognising the different meanings and values attributed to the consumption of popular music. A relationship between readers and writers in this environment relies on this recognition, for dialogue cannot be maintained without opportunities for reflection, identification and contestation.

Sting may take over the world but he is unlikely to stop the consumption of popular music.

And, where there is music, there will always be those who desire to be part of the “knowing community” constructed by the dialogues, the relationships and the performances of music journalism.

List of Interviewees

Alexander, Phil. Former Editor of Kerrang!, Editor-in Chief, Q. Interviewed July 26, 2001 Bee, Sarah. Former Journalist, Melody Maker. Interviewed August 2, 2001 Bonner, Michael. Film Editor, Uncut. Interviewed July 30, 2001 Connors, Matthew. Editor, Time Off. Interviewed December 4, 2002 Cresswell, Toby. Former Editor Rolling Stone, Publisher Juice. Interviewed September 7, 2001 Dunoyer, Paul. Content Control, EMAP Online. Interviewed July 17, 2001 Grimwade, Marc. Deputy Editor, Scene Magazine. Interviewed November 21, 2002 Harris, John. Former Editor Select. Journalist, Q, The Independent, Blender, Mojo. Interviewed July 18, 2001 Jones, Allan. Former Editor, Melody Maker. Editor, Uncut. Interviewed July 30, 2001 Lester, Paul. Music Editor, Uncut. Interviewed July 30, 2001 Lowe, Steve. Journalist Q, Mojo, Blender. Interviewed July 11, 2001 Lynskey, Dorian. Journalist Q, Mojo, Blender, The Guardian. Interviewed July 26, 2001 Mullen, John. Former editor Mojo4music.com, journalist Mojo, The Guardian. Interviewed August 8, 2001 Oldham, James. Former Deputy Editor, NME. Interviewed July 20, 2001 Petridis, Alexis. Former Editor, Select. Music Editor, The Guardian. Interviewed August 8, 2001 Quantick, David. Journalist Q, Blender, Mojo. Interviewed June 19, 2001

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