If the uneasy relationship between the internet and the
music industry has taught us anything, it’s that too many people today believe
they shouldn’t have to pay anything (or at least any more than they think they
should) to listen to the music they love. Equally, it seems these same people
believe they shouldn’t have to pay to read about the music they love either.
While pretty much every music magazine is seeing a rapid decline
in sales, no one seems to be feeling the increasingly painful pinch more than
NME, once that bastion of cutting edge new music eagerly awaited each week by the
faithful and now little more than a flimsy, overpriced shop window for the
online version (which, incidentally, attracts around seven millions users a
month).
Having enjoyed six-figure circulation figures at the peak of
its success, the magazine struggles to entice more than around 15,000 people a
week to part with their hard-earned cash – and at £2.50 a pop for something
that can be read cover to cover during an average toilet visit, who can blame
them?
Something’s gotta give and that something, it seems, is the
cover price. Having realised that they can’t sell it anymore, the people at NME
have now decided to see if they can literally give it away. Yep, from
September, NME will be free, moving from the newsstands to railway stations, shops
and student unions instead – an indie Metro, if you will.
It’s hardly a surprising move, although what IS surprising
is that NME has managed to cling on for dear life for so long. In its heyday,
it was the first port of call for anyone eager to find out when their favourite
band’s next album was coming out or whether they would be touring nearby. It
was also THE place to read about exciting new bands you wouldn’t see in the mainstream
press.
Today, thanks to the old information superhighway, your
favourite band have just used their Facebook page and Twitter feed to link to a
brief YouTube teaser for their next album. As a loyal fan, you’ve received
advance notice of their tour dates via email (no more filling in and sending
off those postcards inserted into the record or CD cover so that you can then
receive more postcards) and you can even tweet the band directly to express
your delight at the fact they’re playing at the Dogger’s Arms in Kettering or
to vent your frustration because they’ve wisely given your hometown a wide
berth yet again. Oh, and you’ve probably already discovered enough new music
online to fill five issues of NME before its writers have even thought of an
opening line for an article telling you why Rustic Scrotum or Panda Pop
Holocaust are the future of all our lives.
In a digital age, no one wants to wait until next Wednesday
to find out when Damon Albarn’s concept album about sandwiches is going to be
released. They want it now, dammit.
But there’s another issue – granted, not one that will have
had a huge impact on their already plummeting sales figures but which I believe
is still an issue all the same.
It’s fair to say that the quality of the product has
decreased significantly over the past decade (if not longer). Gone are the days
of in-depth critical analysis of this week’s new albums – now everything feels
dumbed down and diluted, like it’s been written by an excitable work experience
kid (and from what I’ve heard, that’s probably not too wide of the mark). Everything
is brief and to the point (whatever that may be), but without any depth, personality
or genuine passion. Where’s the individual writing style? Where’s the sense of
pride in your work? Nah, the industry just wants short, punchy phrases it can
plaster across adverts, posters and stickers on CD covers. Don’t try to be too
clever or creative – we can’t fit it on the sticker, not with that five-star
rating we’ve included from The Sun and Heat! And no, you can’t give this one a
bad review – we’ve already decided as a publication that we like this band
because they might be the next Arctic Monkeys.
Also, considering we live in an age where the media have
never had more research tools at their disposal, a little basic fact-checking
wouldn’t go amiss here and there, NME. That includes your website and its
relentless stream of ’25 albums you just HAVE to hear before you turn 27’-type
clickbait.
As part of its ‘rebranding’ (and why is everything just a
brand these days?), NME’s distribution will be increased to 300,000 copies,
presumably because increased circulation means they can not only attract more
advertising but also charge more for the privilege of advertising in a magazine
you’re now more likely to find lying face down on a sticky train carriage
floor.
Will this additional advertising revenue be invested back
into the product? Will they employ quality writers who actually understand the
music they are writing about, rather than simply picking up on the latest generic
white male guitar four-piece because they’ve got the right hair and clothes?
Will they resist the urge to create more double-page spreads out of the fact
Noel Gallagher has said SOMETHING CONTROVERSIAL AGAIN? Will they stop writing articles
about Muse with lazy headlines such as ‘Apocalypse Wow’? Will they just stop
writing about Mumford & Sons altogether?
We can but hope – but we probably shouldn’t hold our breath.
