I promised yesterday that I would post the other part of my correspondence with Spanish music magazine Go-Mag.The following is the interview that they carried with me inside the magazine, presumably in a similar form.
Most Spaniards can hardly understand any English. This makes it slightly complicated when it comes to measuring the influence of English music press here. You have lived in the UK, the US and now Australia. Can you see any difference between music journalism in these countries and/or any other you know about?
“Nick Cave said it best, when questioned in Plan B Magazine about the differences between UK music press and the music press in other countries: ‘The American music press is completely deferential. And the Australian music press…Well, there isn’t really one to speak of. It’s not worth discussing the Australian music press.’
“Clearly, he was speaking about his own experiences, and equally clearly the Americans have a great tradition of an alternative press – independent magazines (Punk Planet, Forced Exposure) that have their roots in the Sixties youth revolution, and free newspapers that exist from city to city that often contain some great commentary (Village Voice, The Stranger), separate from the mainstream music press (Rolling Stone, Spin, Blender) more commonly known to the rest of the world – and clearly the UK has as many crap critics as anywhere else, probably through sheer weight of numbers, but the generalisation holds mostly true. (Even though I'm sure that Australia must have a grand tradition of an independent/fanzine press that I'm mostly unaware of.) Right now, though, Australia doesn’t have any notable music or arts criticism – outside a few bloody-minded sorts (Cyclic Defrost, Mess And Noise, The Monthly, et al) and a handful of commentators (Bernard Zuel, et al).
“Not being entirely familiar with the mainstream UK music press now, I’d say that in the main it’s probably completely deferential: Nick’s quote probably reflects the time when he first encountered it, back when it was more fiery and inclined to challenge.”
I am pretty ignorant about the reasons why you left the NME in 1988. There seems to be a lot of gossip about it and I can’t really make sure what is your part of the story. Could you please explain us what happened and how did you get to start working for Melody Maker?
“Simple. When I joined the NME in 1983 as a freelance writer, I couldn’t even string a sentence together – looking back on it now, I think they employed me for my enthusiasm and love for dancing down the front of concerts, whether anyone else was or not. Through this, I ‘discovered’ a lot of bands – many of which later went on to be grouped under the term ‘C86’ – before most other critics, and the NME used to pride itself back then on its ability to discover and champion new music. But I really couldn’t write, and would disguise my deficiencies by prolific use of exclamation marks – and I was also astonishingly lazy, never having had a (writing) work ethic installed in me. (I studied math at school, and failed college.) So when an old friend of mine from the fanzine days – James Brown, later to found Loaded magazine and thus ruin the reading habits of an entire generation of male readers – joined the paper as Features Editor in 1988, one of his first acts was to lose me. ‘You’re lazy, Jerry,’ he said. ‘Lazy, crap and you can’t write.’ He was right.
“So I phoned up Simon Reynolds – who had, a few months before, interviewed me for a feature on fanzines/cutie music (twee pop) in Melody Maker, and asked him whether he thought his paper might want to use me. Before my interview, I had a spare 30 minutes in my lunch-break as the screen-printers where I worked, so I typed up two pages of notes detailing everything I thought was wrong with the paper – and presented it to them. Two months later, they offered me the job of Reviews Editor. It was through editing other writers’ work that I finally learned how to write.”
If I’m not mistaken you started working for them in Seattle in 1989. You befriended many musicians there, most famously Kurt Kobain – on whom you later wrote a book. What can you tell us about that period of your life as a music journalist?
“Little, that hasn’t been detailed within my book Live Through This, and also features sporadically on the retro website Archived Music Press. I was drunk for most of those years – after having realized that the easiest way to be accepted by my peers and musicians was to become more fucked up than any of they could possibly be – and, although associated with a handful of famous musicians, was probably the most shocked of all at my rapid ascent to (very minor) fame by proxy. After all, 99 per cent of the music I’ve ever championed has been by artists that sell 2,000 records, max. I relished my rise, though – and the attendant power and sway it gave me. I was just determined not to bore anyone: to me, that was the worst crime you could commit as a writer. Lie, cheat, steal…do whatever you want, as long as it’s entertaining (and as long as your writing retains a certain core integrity).
“When I first travelled out to the States I was treated like a rock star because of my status as a potential star-maker journalist. So I behaved like one, because it seemed only polite. The bands I most enjoyed championing (back then) were Huggy Bear, Babes In Toyland, Mudhoney, Madder Rose…actually, the list probably runs into three figures, but…um…Hole, Sebadoh, Pavement…”
You actually ended up working at The Stranger for some time. There seems to be little future for magazines like that right now. In fact, there seems to be very little space for weekly newspapers nowadays, free magazines in particular. What do you think about this?
“I now live in Brisbane, Australia – where I’m tutoring in Digital Journalism at the local university. And each week, the students are given Industry Melt Down scenarios wherein nobody ever picks up a printed newspaper or magazine again. Coupled with that is the fact that the local free Australian music press is around the some of the worst I’ve encountered in 30 years of writing about music. But these doom-mongers are exaggerating, of course – radio didn’t disappear when TV came along, and neither will TV disappear in the age of web 2.0. It seems to me that free weekly (community-based) newspapers like The Stranger are one of the few directions that the print medium is free to take right now – plays to strengths, because advertisers (who ultimately decide whether these papers exist or not) always require somewhere to sell their goods and, frankly, online doesn’t cut it right now.
“I’d be shocked – genuinely surprised – if that medium disappears. It’s all about the whole fucking ceremony of digesting information (reading on trains, buses, at meal times, on the toilet, sitting round with mates, snatched glances in clubs, etc).”
Plan B started just after Careless Talk Costs Lives disappeared. The approach seems to be quite similar, even if they look totally different. At first sight, Plan B seems more conventional than what CTCL ever was, but it still feels totally different to the rest of the magazines you can find nowadays. What are the main differences between both projects? In what way are you involved in Plan B? How different is the role of the music editor to that of the music journalist? What are your favorite magazines?
“Plan B will always be a little more conventional than CTCL because it’s put together (semi-) democratically whereas CTCL was run more like a (benevolent) dictatorship (myself and photographer Steve Gullick). This meant that CTCL was put together in a much more random fashion, with all the attendant strengths and weaknesses – it was, literally, whatever myself and/or Steve fancied covering that issue. This allowed for much more flexibility, but also meant that we were liable to much more spectacular failures. The way I chose contributors was much more open: if I liked an email randomly sent to me sometimes I would (literally) print it!
“The main differences were: CTCL never made a single penny (mainly because the paper and printers we used were so expensive). It existed for two years, was given a set lifetime (12 issues, counting down from issue 12 – and when it reached Number 1, it stopped) and never pretended to be embracing any sort of demographic, except for the tastes of the people putting it together. Plan B was put together by most of the same team as CTCL (minus Steve Gullick, who went on to do the excellent and even more idiosyncratic Loose Lips Sink Ships), but with the set goal of being able to pay said team for putting it together – it took a couple of years (with zero outside funding or backing) but we achieved it: office in London, paid core staff of seven or eight people, monthly frequency, national and international (just) distribution...and it kept going when all around were failing.
“Also, we had a person whose specified role at Plan B was to be the publisher (Chris Houghton, until a couple of years ago). Also (and probably most crucially), I was never the editor of Plan B. Right from issue one, Frances Morgan (and in the past year, since I left for Australia, Louis Pattison) has held that role. I was the editor-in-chief – which means I oversaw the direction of the magazine, and acted as a conduit for dialogue between the publishing and editing sides. The team was relatively inexperienced, so I hoped that my experience might be of some benefit.
“Since I left for Australia a year ago, I’ve been the Publisher-at-large – which is an unpaid role, but means that I do stay in communication with the team, offer advice (on an occasional basis) and continue to contribute reviews and articles. I also own a majority share in the company that puts out Plan B.
“To attend to the latter part of your question: a music editor (at least the way I understand it) is someone who commissions other people’s work and then proof-reads and/or sub-edits said work. Usually, the editors decide on the magazine’s content – although most decent ones will be very open to suggestions from trusted writers and sources.
“The reason I start magazines of my own is two-fold: 1) because that’s where my roots lie (before I joined the music press I did fanzines of my own), so that’s what I understand, and 2) I’m arrogant enough to believe that I don’t really require editors telling me what to cover, or how to write it. But it’s a two-way dialogue – the same way I (as an editor) trust certain writers to come up with ideas that I’d want to use in my publication, I would trust (as a writer) certain editors to come up with ideas that I would like to write stories about.
“Sadly, I don’t have any favourite music titles (aside from Plan B). The age at which I used to eagerly devour the music press is long gone (probably stopped soon as I started writing for it). The last publication I recall enjoying on a regular basis (that I didn’t contribute to) was Punk Planet…but, um, I contributed to that one, as well. I used to buy Private Eye (a humorous, political title) in the UK. And I read The Guardian online – but for the news content. These days, I’m much more likely to go for individual writers, rather than titles.”
Some of my journalist colleagues at the magazine are musicians. Some of them are songwriters. Truth be told, some of them are actually good songwriters. Should we trust them to be accurate in their approach to criticism? Does it really matter if they are not? Would you have written different journalism if you had not been a musician yourself? On befriending musicians, has any personal relationship ever interfered with your work as a music critic? If so, how did you solve it?
“I don’t think that either being a musician or not being a musician makes any fundamental difference to being a good or a bad music critic – being either brings its own perspectives and ways of hearing. Many of the folk involved at Plan B are musicians, but some aren’t. Also, how do you define ‘musician’ (or ‘critic’, for that matter) – conventionally, I’m not a musician, even though I’ve released several records and performed on stage hundreds of times. I deliberately never learned to play guitar. (I can play a handful of other instruments, but very rudimentarily.) Does it matter if someone’s proficient? Surely, ideas are what counts?
“I think you’re answered that question yourself already. I certainly don’t hold with the contention that all critics are failed musicians (echoes of the truism that ‘those who do, do – and those that can’t, teach’. It doesn’t hurt sometimes to have insight in the process of performing on stage or to be able to mention other musicians – but it’s not a pre-requisite.
“Probably the main part of my music critic self that performing on stage has influenced is the notion that there are no dividing lines, anywhere – and it’s futile to pretend otherwise. When I was on tour, writing a story on a band, I felt that my primary purpose was to entertain, whatever it took. You have personal relationships every time you step outside your front door – just admit that (to yourself), and get on with it. Knowing someone is more likely to make me slag off their music (I’ve fallen out with friends plenty of times, doing just that), through over-compensating.
“Crucially, I only ever wrote about music to make sense of my own life, everything relates back to that.”
I can’t see any problem with being totally narcissistic in my approach to journalism (in fact, I believe it to be a rather honest approach to the job, if anything) but readers often complain about it. What should we tell them?
“Go look elsewhere if they don’t want to look. It’s their choice, ultimately.”
Great interview. Thanks for sharing!
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