The Demise Of Paste Magazine, print version


I don’t know what compelled me to surf onto pastemagazine.com at 5:04pm on September 1st, but that decision to browse soon had me in tears: at 5pm that day, Joshua Jackson, editor-in-chief of the culture mag for over 8 years, announced the suspension of Paste’s printed version. Though it seems the online branch of Paste will be continuing—lessening the blow a bit—this is tragedy, no less.

And not just because I was renewed through 2012.

And not just because those awesome mix CDs won’t be coming in the mail anymore (yes, I still opted to receive them over downloading the mp3’s….I liked the physicality).

And not just because those beautiful, full-color sirens on luxuriously-textured glossy paper won’t be arriving every month anymore as the highlight of my month.

And not just because I don’t have a clue who to go to for music advice now, since Paste’s crew seemed to so closely identify with my tastes.

And not just because I will no longer have access to the lengthy, intelligent reviews their staff of regular contributors and freelancers continually impressed me with.

This is a tragedy on the grandest of scales because something that the world so dearly needs is lost: the active ability to sustain a well-curated, high quality publication for a sizable community banded together by openness to discover and discuss contemporary culture in its widest variety of mediums (yes, they even reviewed video games, in addition to movies, music, television, concerts, festivals, etc.). This isn’t Rolling Stone (which continues to thrive despite its utter lack of compelling content and inability to put its finger on the pulse of anything less than Top 40): this is a specific set of tastes.

This is a debate about the ideology behind being an artist, being “in the business”—what is talent, what should artists be doing with their talents, what comprises a great whole album, what works and what doesn’t when a bonafide artist steps off their self-created path, what works in a collaboration, what was missing that an artist used to have, etc.

This is a collective of writers and readers who are talented listeners—they notice the creak of the guitar 2:36 into a song, they notice the sound of hands clapping to the beat in the studio, they still care about what an album cover looks like, they notice the quality of a sound-recording, they recognize not just an artists’ contribution but the distinct work of producers, mixers, sound engineers, and recording studios.

There’s a seriousness about quality, intent, purpose. There’s an attention to detail. There’s a strong impulse to paint a rich picture of the personalities and spaces these works come out of.

All of this that Paste provided to its readers, and so much more, is still vitality important and needed, and I believe needed in print form. Need did not diminish. I don’t even think demand diminished, and if I knew anything about statistics and trends, I might even be able to argue that the need for this kind of publication effort is growing with the current generation of twentysomethings and thirtysomethings needing to grasp at concrete threads of good work in a culture over-saturated with variable quality work.

This is an issue of timing, not money directly. I think the recession/ depression/ whatever we’re calling it now has hit the demographic that would support Paste magazine through the next decade, the twentysomethings and thirtysomethings, the hardest.

Remember us? We’re the generation that basically just graduated, had hopes, had aspirations, and stepped out all fresh-faced and ready to start our careers right into a pile of crap. If we could establish ourselves in the job market, like practically every other generation has been able to do at our age, then we would be able to sustain subscriptions to our favorite magazines, we could even buy CDs and MP3s on a regular basis, movie tickets when great films were released, concert tickets, and even develop companies that would advertise in just such venues as Paste print magazine. We’re getting to be a lost generation, marred by the most extreme form of quarter-life crisis yet seen by any generation. We’re the generation stuck in our parents basements until we’re 27. We’re the ones who can’t get a jump start on our lives because every job we compete for has older, more qualified, enhanced resume applicants who have the experience we aren’t getting the chances to have.

And remember us? We’re the the generation who just got the ball rolling, just barely tasted that satisfying feeling that we were on the path we wanted, and maybe even just started families and begin envisioning homes that we could fix up and own and call our own. Just when we thought our thirties would be a chance to enjoy some of the money we’re now deservedly earning, to stick our feet in the ground and call it ours, to begin reaping benefits for the years in our field we’ve put in, to feel secure that the path we’ve chosen is working for us and will lead us to achieving our goals for world travel, start-up businesses, enjoying the recreations our still-young bodies have available, home ownership,  dinner-parties, friends, family, success. Now, after all of those dreams and aspirations are laid out as conceivable plans for the future, now comes the great economic collapse. All of our priorities have shifted. That ladder we were successfully climbing has, at best, lost a few rungs up top, and at worst turned into a chute. That home we just signed our blood to is now going to cause much struggle and hardship to afford and keep up. Those kids we thought we’d be raising in stable environments are about to be moved around the country as we try for profitable ventures wherever they are available. That sweet success we thought we were beginning to taste now stings sour on our tongue.

When these two generations have a chance to establish themselves again in America, I know that we will see growth in music sales, concert ticket sales, movie ticket sales, museum admission sales, subscription sales, hell, even stereo equipment sales. These are all things we wish we could afford, and would under normal circumstances even be among top budget priorities because they are what makes us think and feel and connect and emote. But these are not normal times —these are sparse times, with little luxury, and unfortunately Paste and other like-minded services and companies have wilted. But we’ll come looking for you again soon. I promise, Paste magazine, I’ll be here when you wake.

(and for now and as long as you can hold on, we’ll enjoy pastemagazine.com, and your Best Of What’s Next, your music reviews, your movie reviews, your t.v. reviews (here’s hoping you’ll be reviewing the fall premieres!), your 1000 Words blogs (a real treat in the blogging world), your Awesome Of The Day entries, your Free MP3’s links, your playlists (which needs work, guys), and your awesomely awesome List Of The Day offerings.

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