Curious about a publication that caused Jann Wenner to remake Rolling Stone by completely ripping it off, I purchased a recent issue of Blender (you know, the one with the scantily clad women on the front).
First impressions? It's essentially Q dumbed down for the American audience (and I'm not saying that the American audience is much dumber than the British; Q is hardly Schopenhauer). The same format pretty much applies: your standard pre-fab Q&A sessions, highly stylized fashion shoots, capsule reviews, etc.
The plusses? I was pleasantly surprised by the review section. Yes, (in a shocking departure from every other music magazine) they do tend to favor the albums of artists who are featured in the current issue. Yes, (again, so dramatically different from other industry press sheets) some judgments can be facile and uninvolved. (Trying to cram in 200 reviews when there are maybe fifty decent albums released every month will do that.) That said, Blender's willingness to educate its readership on the classic albums of the past seems to be a rare example of a "lad mag" attempting to do good by stealth (this issue's spread on the oeuvre of Steely Dan is a case in point). In addition, it must be said that there is a definite attempt at diversity here: hip-hop articles do not feel out of place alongside rock pieces; jazz is relatively well reviewed.
The minuses? This is obviously a magazine aimed at the Ritalin generation. Four pages represents a lengthy article. Topics are generally dumb and predictable. Allowing Tweet to maintain that an album containing the best paean to masturbation since "Orgasm Addict" is an attempt to speak truth to power is unforgivable. On the positive side, however, it's nice to learn that when Keith fell trying to grab that book, the title in question was one of the "Just William" series.
The verdict? I am no longer afraid to die now that I've read Blender. If this is what The Kids Today find appealing in a music magazine, then everything I like about music is so irrelevant as to take me out of the picture altogether. Which is to say, it's mostly crap. If you have a slightly longer attention span, read Q. If you have an actual attention span, read Uncut. If you're a sad forty-year-old bastard who pines for the days of yore, read Mojo. Otherwise, Blender may be just right for you. Because, sadly enough, it is actually better than Rolling Stone.
This review appears in slightly modified form at The Minor Fall, The Major Lift.
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