Since the inception of music, there has been the music critic.
For ages, music critics had only the spoken word to translate their
like or dislike of the artist; that is, until the beginning of the
press. Now, music critics and journalists can go on about their
favorite artists or spew their vile vocabulary against those who
look to ruin music altogether, in any of countless music
publications.

Of these music publications, a great majority of them are crap.
Magazines such as Harp, Magnet or any other indie
rock magazine tend to demonize those on major record labels as
sellouts or whores, whether or not the artists’ music is good.

On the other side of the spectrum, these mags hold up their
favorite bands as gods, sentient beings who can do no wrong and
should be the biggest band in the world.

Paradoxically, if these bands do become the biggest band in the
world, they are demonized as sellouts and whores.

Then there are magazines such as Rolling Stone and
Spin, which tend more toward the mainstream. Hardly ever do
these mags cover bands, unless the bands are on the Billboard Top
20, and they try to be trendy more than insightful.

More to the point, the magazines are tools to the major record
labels because the major labels also make tools out of the rest of
us. Thus, Rolling Stone and Spin have huge sales.

As a side note, Rolling Stone is getting far too
political to be called much of a music magazine anymore; when Al
Gore goes on the cover with an air-brushed crotch to add “power” to
his campaign, things have gone too far.

Alas, there is one magazine that truly rises above all else in
its music coverage and ability to make fun of itself and the
business, and it is New Musical Express.

This weekly music publication comes out of England, where rock
music is taken as seriously as anywhere in the world, and has
complete fun with it.

For example, in its latest year-end issue, the middle section
had Chris Martin and 50 Cent cut-out face masks, as well as a game
that helps readers find out if they are at Christmas dinner or a
Strokes concert.

The deity artifice is stripped down to non-existence here, and
no one revels in it more than the artists themselves.

Only in NME would there be a page devoted to rockers’
renderings of Santa Claus, then have the drawings analyzed by a
psychologist. In short, this magazine makes rock ‘n’ roll a laugh
riot.

At the same time, though, NME has tremendous credibility
when it comes to actually talking about music.

It is the only magazine I have found that is not afraid to call
Nickelback and Staind completely horrible and talk up bands that
play at the pub down the street. In fact, NME is often the
place to look to see what bands are going to be huge in the next
six months.

The magazine heralded the Strokes after seeing the band play a
club in London in early 2001, some seven months before their first
album even came out.

NME also made stars out of the Hives and the Vines months
before people in the United States had even heard of them.

Looking at NME right now, watch out for the Franz
Ferdinand; these kids are going to be the next big thing.

The only bad part about NME is its unavailability here in
St. Louis. However, their Web site, www.nme.com, is a fine substitute for
those who don’t want to pay to have it shipped from across the
pond.

I assure you, there is no better music magazine out there, and I
have looked.