12th
Dear Rolling Stone,
Please, please, please stop putting aging rock icons on the cover of your magazine. In the last few months I’ve endured cover stories about Eric Clapton and Jeff Beck, Jimmi Henrix and most recently The Rolling Stones making of Exile On Main Street (again?). Going back a bit further, you are still doing features on why The Beatles broke up, putting Bob Dylan in several best of lists for the last decade, not to mention a cover or two every year, and forever stroking U2 and Bruce Springsteen. Obama has also had quite a bit of face time, but then, he’s the fuckn’ president and therefore still relevant. The others, while having a place in rock history have been poured over and written about to the point where nothing is left but stale minutia.
I’m certain the continued presence of such aging rock monoliths has much to do with marketing and the fact that young people don’t buy magazines anymore. They want their shit on line and they want it now. Or maybe they just don’t give a hoot about the construction of Electric Ladyland Studios and how excited Hendrix was to start recording there before he choked to death on his own sick. Or how The Boss’ hardscrabble upbringing in Jersey has shaped the working class ethos he brings to his music. Or how—hold on to your seats—the recording sessions for December’s Children almost killed Keith Richards cause he did lot of drugs.
Let it go, ya old fuckn’ robots.
