Idolator

Once again, we present Rock-Critically Correct, a feature in which the most recent issues of Rolling Stone, Blender, Vibe and Spin are given a once-over by an anonymous writer who's contributed to several of those titles—or maybe even all of them! After the click-through, a look at the new issue of Rolling Stone:

Let Your Boy begin his assessment of the concluding installment of Rolling Stone's three 40th-anniversary issues with something he should have brought up in columns devoted to the prior two:

Would anyone care to guess why the cover images of all three consist of closeups of the first two letters of the mag's name?

The first issue, which was devoted to the mag's self-estimated importance in the last forty years, displayed the letters in bold red, as per how the logo has been presented since the mid-'70s. The second issue had the characters containing "psychedelic" colors, which referenced its "man-o-Manishewitz, 1967 sure was a killer year" theme. This time around, the letters contain an image of billowing clouds at sunset, which YB guesses is supposed to represent "the future," i.e. this issue's mission statement "Where We're Going."

But... why the repeated emphasis on the "R" and the "o"? It'll take a much cannier observer than YB to discern why only those two characters, and not the entire logo (or some less abstract image), were used on all three covers. Was the original idea to have the entire logo spelled out over three issues placed side to side, but the ever-mercurial Jann Wenner scrapped it? Does the brand, if you will, need so much enforcing in this almost post-print era that the eye must focus upon its first syllable? Are you a cannier observer than YB? Would you care to guess in the comments section?

BTW: if the topic of Mr. Wenner's opinion of himself interests you in the slightest, do yourself a favor and read this. Therein, you'll see how the notions of self-awareness and humility have possibly never crossed his mind: that the guy utters many of the words he does on the record to a journalist evidently without a second thought is nothing less than Bush-ian. YB can only imagine that scribe Jon Fine's heart sang when Mr. Wenner opined that "these kids today" want to, frankly, be him.

So "where we're going" is expounded upon in 130 pages of interviews with who Mr. Wenner sees as, to use a phrase he uses in Fine's preceding column, "our guys." RS' main guy is Albert Gore: Mr. Wenner conducted the interview with the 2007 Nobel Peace Prize recipient. By "conducting the interview," YB means "very nearly browbeating the interviewee for his lack of interest in entering the 2008 Presidential race."

YB doesn't want to be too dismissive of the entire package: a few interviews with the likes of William Gibson, Cornel West, web guru Tim Berners-Lee, geneticist Craig Venter, physicist Lisa Randall and atheist firebrand/former Star Search Grand Champion Sam Harris are pretty insightful vis-à-vis the present and future. But, as usual, references to the Beatles and Bob Dylan pop up compulsively (Meryl Streep inveighs against how "these kids today" experience culture piecemeal when she can recite the tracklisting of Rubber Soul, goddamnit!!) and George Clooney, Tom Hanks, Eddie Vedder, and Dave Matthews each march in "good liberal" lockstep.

Which reminds YB! He would have liked to see a turd in the punchbowl here and there: would it have damaged the integrity (or self-congratulation) of the issue's conceit to include some dissenting views? Maybe get Ben Stein to talk about his sympathy for the "intelligent design" movement? Ann Coulter has attended at least one Rolling Stone holiday party: why not get her in to say some revolting shit and enthuse about the Ramones and the Grateful Dead? Y'know, robust debate, etc., etc.

Last week, when the issue hit the stands, no one was much interested in any of the chin wags with Mr. Wenner's influential pals. Rather, participants on the message boards, blogs and listservs that YB frequents were much more interested in two inserts included in the issue: The Almost Impossible Rock and Roll Quiz, from which many folks trumpeted/bemoaned their high/low scores, and the Indie Rock Universe, which prompted some to question whether RS' inclusion of the names of many of the artists so classified in an insert paid for by Camel constituted an ethical minefield. Another insert, "The Future of Music," featured a series of interviews in which Conor Oberst, Chester Bennington and others opined on that topic. It was most mostly unremarked upon by the young'uns.

Of course, Mr. Wenner very likely cares not a fig for what interests them. Rather, he seeks the affirmation of his peer group; perhaps Vanity Fair's Graydon Carter might sidle up to him at a Manhattan restaurant like Elaine's or Michael's and express admiration w/r/t the constellation of liberal celebrities dutifully excoriating the Bush administration he has assembled.

But by far the most significant component of RS' "Where We're Going" strategy is simply that the issue has been made available in digital form. However, as YB is confident you'll agree, navigating the issue in that format is a titanic pain in the ass: if RS thinks that "the future" of reading should involve zooming in on a page and then hurtling around it haphazardly in order to read what you want, then YB believes that the future of reading is gonna leave an enormous amount to be desired.

Oh well! Again, as the interview linked above suggests, Mr. Wenner doesn't give a good goddamn about that particular aspect of the future: people are always gonna want magazines, in his telling. YB is also fairly sure that, despite this issue's fulminating over global warming that endears him to Mr. Gore (not to mention the carbon-neutral paper used to print his magazine), Mr. Wenner believes that, if trees could talk, they would express pride that their destiny involves being pulped so that he could valorize himself and his friends. Do as the Gulfstream owner says, Idolator visitors, not as the Gulfstream owner does.

In any case, many thanks to Rolling Stone for their trisected 40th-anniversary blowbang! YB could hardly ask for more fecund subject matter, although he fervently hopes he's not doing the keyboard krybaby routine when the mag's next anniversary season rolls around!