Avert your eyes: The “broken model” of print media

It is a well documented fact that print media is struggling. Every day a magazine or local paper lays off more people, or goes the whole hog and goes entirely bust. As a prospective journalist myself this should be incredibly disconcerting. Indeed, it has led a few bloggers to question why anyone would study Journalism (see http://www.techcrunch.com/2009/04/08/who-the-hell-is-enrolling-in-journalism-school-right-now/).
But those who predict the end of journalism couldn’t be more wrong. Yes there are unemployed journalists out there, but that has as much to do with the recession as it does the apparent death of journalism itself. The truth is that online journalism is still vibrant and growing, and if the industry learns its lessons quickly (indeed pre-empting and making the changes) there is no reason for the jobless to resign themselves to a life on the dole.
The face of journalism is changing, and we have to stop focussing on the death of tradition and look to the future. Yes there is an argument that blogs are stepping on the toes of “traditional” articles but this just exposes the industries apparent self importance and arrogance. Firstly it should be seen as a test for Journalists; a chance to show why they get employed for what they do. Does the wealth of unsigned bands in the UK ruin the market for the larger bands? No, in many cases it simply serves to show why some bands have made it to where they are (if only that were true for all mainstream music!) Secondly, and more importantly, with great change comes great opportunity and journalists need to see the open door, not rue the one that just closed. There is an inconceivable amount of content that needs to be written on the web, and custom publishing is one such industry growing like an amoeba, crying out for decent writers, bloggers and designers. So it is in this sense that I have to disagree with Alan Rusbridger (editor of the Guardian) on the consequences of print medias decline...
“Bad things are going to happen where newspapers are going to die. There are going to be fewer journalists and the really pricey business of quality journalism is going to require subsidy from somewhere. It’s a broken model.”
Yes it is broken, but that doesn’t mean that the quality journalists will be forced to wait tables for the rest of their lives. Such a statement assumes that journalists and readers want the traditions and old order to be maintained. This is not the case, nor would it be possible to maintain if it was. The changes happening in the media world have snowballed from the conception of the internet, it cannot be reversed, it can only be barrelled onwards. We have reached a place of greater accessibility and immersion, and a place that cost wise (and environmentally) makes things a lot simpler. In as clichéd way as possible: You can’t halt progress.
Journalists should be making the most of Twitter, feeds, the blogosphere, getting involved in custom publications and utilising the hundreds of technological advancements that are CREATING journalistic opportunity, not destroying it. Writers already have and will continue to find these new outlets, and if they don’t they probably weren’t “quality” journalists in the first place. Alan Rusbridger seems acutely aware of this in his appraisal of Twitter, though he falls short of suggesting it is part of journalisms saviour:
“You harness this brilliant pool of knowledge out there. It’s a fantastic marketing tool. It’s a fantastic journalistic tool.”
Rusbridger correctly identifies that the profession will need a new form of subsidy, and this seems to be the real question: not where journalism work is going to come from, but where will profit be found. The financial side of journalism is the broken part, that Rusbridger implies that this question means “bad things” for journalism is flawed fin de siècle doomsaying. If he looked around him he would see some writers, despite the tough times, flourishing and creating.
A case in point is Red Stripe beer, who are never seen in newspaper ads, TV ads or indeed sponsorship deals. For years they have been running the Red Stripe Music Awards, sending out journalists to gigs to find the best in UK unsigned talent. Their site therefore contains news, editorial, reviews and forums for musicians, all branded with the company’s product. Brand financed journalism is growing, and is of surprising quality (see Relentless too).
In Clay Shirky’s fantastic “newspapers and thinking the unthinkable” he alludes to the creation of printing press and the chaos that followed, lasting for decades after. Revolutions are confusing times, even if the order before and after seems to be natural. Don’t get caught watching the death of the paper, instead watch the rise of something altogether more exciting, interactive, intuitive, accessible and as viable a business model as all that came before it.
We just don’t know how yet.

A blog is for life, not just for Christmas

I have recently been frequenting music message boards all over the web, and in particular posts about X Factor. For some reason I am still unable to tear my eyes away from the programme, and I am now oblivious to my own words of disgust for it.

It seems I was not as outspoken as I thought in regard to several things. For starters Rhydian wasn't as popular as I thought (while also probably a victim of the "Everyone likes him so I don't" trap) and people were well aware of the fact that he is not that great an opera singer, nor that great a pop singer. Which is a bit of a pickle for a bit of a prick.

But the biggest revelation of my message board surfing is my realisation of the power such sites wield. While my modest site is yet to change the atmosphere of my room, let alone the music scene, many posts on these boards can reach thousands. If the general discourse of a topic goes one way, the thousands of readers that see it will be affected. Whilst reading someone's self important post about how Simon Cowell is deluded to think anyone would buy a "Hope" record, I actually found myself thinking "Fuck you, I'll buy one" before realising I hate everything to do with the band, who are after all 90% make up.

I couldn't say for sure that my words have this kind of effect, I may after all be weak minded, but I do believe that once something is written, whether it is on the web, a book or on your drunks friends face it is there for the duration. Your point of view that Simon Cowell is gorgeous is stuck on the web the duration, as is the memory of your marker pen assertion that your drunken friend is a "Dick."

I think that, while on message boards this is relatively harmless, reviewers and feature writers can lose sight of the power they wield. A case in point is Carrie Bradshaw Layfield's review of the Foo Fighter's new album. Layfield uses the review space not to talk about the album, but to slander the Foo Fighters previous connection to Alive And Well, an organisation that denies a link between HIV and AIDS and claims the African Epidemic is exaggerated.

Whether this exaggeration is true is irrelevant to the album. As is whether the Foo's involvement is questionable or not. As is the fact that they were involved. As is the fact that they no longer are. In fact, barely one sentence of the whole review is relevant to music, except where he compares the "energy" of the Foo's to a dead child.

People reviewing music with an agenda should not be allowed. It's bad enough that politics get in the way of music creation (not always true I accept), let alone its critics. As reviewers, people have a responsibility to deliver an insightful, illuminating and entertaining read, something Mr Layfield fails to do on all levels. In fact, he just embarrasses himself. The words we write mean something. We can't claim we wrote them in the heat of the moment like a harsh word in an argument, because we think the words, spell them, then check them. We think about what we write, so we should think about who reads it.