onionbagblog
Enemy Within
Well lookey lookey here... A campaign to highlight how worthless and crap the NME has become. Five years ago I may have heartedly agreed, but with the onset of old age and Soulseek supplying me with enough substance rather than style (and all for FREE as well) - I just don't give a toss to be honest.
'Compromised by greed and cynicism...'
Well I never! Big business publishing empire in Let's Make More Money Shocker! They're selling you out kids, just like they were on the back of punk, rave, madchester and the current barrel scraping 'nu rock revolution' wank.
By definition, the NEW Musical Express is always going to reflect the market and the new musical market is shit right now; imprints from major labels masquerading as indies, rush-releasing half arsed, half finished albums, running shit scared of online leaks and desperately trying to squeeze the last dregs out of the corporate dollar of a music retail business model has eaten itself with greed.
Who the fuck actually walks into HMV and forks out fifteen quid for a CD anyway? People that probably buy soup in cartons rather than tins. You need to download, darling, or wonder at the WOWness of CD WOW; failing that then go have a word with that nice Mr CD on Berwick Street or if you are an oik out in the sticks then there's always shitty supermarkets for fucks sake.
The current 'scene' of a dead horse that the NME is trying to flog is no different to the uninspiring treadmill of turd that I was foolish to climb aboard on ten or so years ago. Retard rock knobbers ejaculating all over the tombstone of Lennon and his lumpen rich white rock star back catalogue. And with ridiculous haircuts as well. That's just the old fart in me dribbling more drool of course.
Having just uploaded 500 albums to my iPod (go on: 'You Useless Tosser!'), I'm pretty confident that if I was to repeat the whole process in five years time then I very much doubt that my choice of tracks would change. Unless of course Billy Bragg enters a period of artistic hyper-activity, a vault of long lost Clash albums are found and Diesel Park West get together for that difficult tenth album.
The very reason why the NME is full of so much twaddle is because the tossers who lurk between the adverts for ringtones are twaddle as well. Angling Weekly can be a right rip roaring read, but only during the fishing season. Content is king, blah blah blah. This very blog was born with the intention of banging on about music, but I soon realised that non league football and a fascination for crap pics of the capital is oddly more exciting than some knobber New York junkies who can just about hold down a couple of chords.
Meanwhile...
Riots Break Out After Pete Doherty No-Show
Big fucking deal, buddy. I was all set for firebombing Sainsbury's next door to Dulwich after the 3-2 home defeat to Whyteleafe midweek. There was about as much interest in that story from a sane readership as well.
'The NME was better in my day' is the usual pub bore rallying cry just before he puts another dime in the jukebox, baby, and selects some Smashing Pumpkins shite. Of course it was you knobber! That's the whole fucking point! Aside from making cash from chaos for IPC Media, the NME exists to remind every generation that they are YOUNG and different to their dad. It's just a bit of throwaway FUN, and if I was an eighteen-year-old fresh faced youth once again heading off to Cirencester University living in Mr Tony's Britain then FUN would be exactly what I was in need of right now. Plus a sympathetic bank manager of course.
The rock-stocracy (clever, don’t you think?) are always going to reflect with rose tinted specs back to an era that never really existed. Does the NME really matter? DID the NME ever really matter? It's just a newspaper for fucks sake (which admittedly is doing very well right now at trying to desert any of its indie heritage and become a lightweight piece of 'style' journalism that appeals only to the staff that write it).
Historically the NME has used a selection of writers who I admit have always looked out for, safe in their knowledge that a byline by Steven Wells must mean 100% fact, tell it like it is etc. In his heyday, Swells was a rock god, flicking up two fingers not only to the artists but also the NME as well. Cocksucking and not criticism seems to be the case now with the little to choose between the adverts and editorial.
But you're confusing me with someone who gives a shit. Move along the magazine rack. Click through to the next site (or blog). Write your bloody own.
'I use the NME...'
Not anymore Johnny boy...
*obvious parallels with My Radio Don't Rock over HERE*
| Friday 1 October, 2004 |
Well lookey lookey here... A campaign to highlight how worthless and crap the NME has become. Five years ago I may have heartedly agreed, but with the onset of old age and Soulseek supplying me with enough substance rather than style (and all for FREE as well) - I just don't give a toss to be honest.
'Compromised by greed and cynicism...'
Well I never! Big business publishing empire in Let's Make More Money Shocker! They're selling you out kids, just like they were on the back of punk, rave, madchester and the current barrel scraping 'nu rock revolution' wank.
 Angling Weekly can be a right rip roaring read |
Who the fuck actually walks into HMV and forks out fifteen quid for a CD anyway? People that probably buy soup in cartons rather than tins. You need to download, darling, or wonder at the WOWness of CD WOW; failing that then go have a word with that nice Mr CD on Berwick Street or if you are an oik out in the sticks then there's always shitty supermarkets for fucks sake.
The current 'scene' of a dead horse that the NME is trying to flog is no different to the uninspiring treadmill of turd that I was foolish to climb aboard on ten or so years ago. Retard rock knobbers ejaculating all over the tombstone of Lennon and his lumpen rich white rock star back catalogue. And with ridiculous haircuts as well. That's just the old fart in me dribbling more drool of course.
Having just uploaded 500 albums to my iPod (go on: 'You Useless Tosser!'), I'm pretty confident that if I was to repeat the whole process in five years time then I very much doubt that my choice of tracks would change. Unless of course Billy Bragg enters a period of artistic hyper-activity, a vault of long lost Clash albums are found and Diesel Park West get together for that difficult tenth album.
The very reason why the NME is full of so much twaddle is because the tossers who lurk between the adverts for ringtones are twaddle as well. Angling Weekly can be a right rip roaring read, but only during the fishing season. Content is king, blah blah blah. This very blog was born with the intention of banging on about music, but I soon realised that non league football and a fascination for crap pics of the capital is oddly more exciting than some knobber New York junkies who can just about hold down a couple of chords.
Meanwhile...
Riots Break Out After Pete Doherty No-Show
Big fucking deal, buddy. I was all set for firebombing Sainsbury's next door to Dulwich after the 3-2 home defeat to Whyteleafe midweek. There was about as much interest in that story from a sane readership as well.
'The NME was better in my day' is the usual pub bore rallying cry just before he puts another dime in the jukebox, baby, and selects some Smashing Pumpkins shite. Of course it was you knobber! That's the whole fucking point! Aside from making cash from chaos for IPC Media, the NME exists to remind every generation that they are YOUNG and different to their dad. It's just a bit of throwaway FUN, and if I was an eighteen-year-old fresh faced youth once again heading off to Cirencester University living in Mr Tony's Britain then FUN would be exactly what I was in need of right now. Plus a sympathetic bank manager of course.
The rock-stocracy (clever, don’t you think?) are always going to reflect with rose tinted specs back to an era that never really existed. Does the NME really matter? DID the NME ever really matter? It's just a newspaper for fucks sake (which admittedly is doing very well right now at trying to desert any of its indie heritage and become a lightweight piece of 'style' journalism that appeals only to the staff that write it).
Historically the NME has used a selection of writers who I admit have always looked out for, safe in their knowledge that a byline by Steven Wells must mean 100% fact, tell it like it is etc. In his heyday, Swells was a rock god, flicking up two fingers not only to the artists but also the NME as well. Cocksucking and not criticism seems to be the case now with the little to choose between the adverts and editorial.
But you're confusing me with someone who gives a shit. Move along the magazine rack. Click through to the next site (or blog). Write your bloody own.
'I use the NME...'
Not anymore Johnny boy...
*obvious parallels with My Radio Don't Rock over HERE*
| #permalink |
