The Rolling Stones & Rolling Stone Magazine: Sounding The Death Toll To Rock Music

I was idly flipping through the latest copy of Rolling Stone magazine this evening. For some reason, whether out of a perverse, if not misguided, sense of nostalgia, or a delusional sense of hope that there might actually be some content that rises above the usual banality, I am still a subscriber. For all intensive purposes, Rolling Stone ceased to be even moderately relevant sometime after they began featuring Hollywood movie stars or Britney Spearsish tarts on their covers. The magazine is no longer about actual music, save the David Fricke column, which is usually relegated to three paragraphs somewhere near the back of the music review section juxtaposed against the latest review of whatever crap is topping the music charts. I am cynical. I am jaded. I know I’m going to be disappointed. I know it’s going to be an endless barrage of untalented and uninspiring “artists” in the most liberal sense of the word. I know it’s evolved into a popularity contest as opposed to musical criticism and the introduction of new artists. There was a time in the not too distant past when I could actually read about artists I had never heard of, instead of retreads of information that I knew months ago. And let me just point out that I have no ties to record companies. I don’t get advanced copies of shit. I’m not on any kind of insider mailing list. What I know and listen to is strictly a combination of word-of-mouth and hours of Internet fact-finding quests.

And yet, every month I rather embarrassingly, flip through the magazine with a zeal and fervor that I usually only reserve for opening a brand new, virgin cd from its womb. Oh, God. (Hands clasped together in eager expectancy) maybe this will be the issue where I will find some redeeming value in its content. Perhaps, it will remind me of why I have been such a faithful subscriber through this continuous barrage of pejorative horseshit. I must be completely and utterly insane. It’s disgraceful, really, holding onto a ridiculous idea of loyalty and former admiration for a musical institution that is utterly bankrupt of originality or worth.

Which leads me to my other rant- The Rolling Stones. A band that has more money than God, but is about as musically bankrupt as the aforementioned magazine. One of the advertisements this month in said magazine featured a full-page ad for The Stones new tour or maybe it was for the goddamn finance company that is sponsoring it. Now, to clarify, this particular rant is not in regard to whether the band has “sold-out” to corporate America and the merits/drawbacks to corporate sponsorship of a major tour, but the little ditty that was featured in the copy. It goes like this: “Ameriquest Mortgage is proud to sponsor The Rolling Stones…and the American Dream.” I physically recoiled when I read this statement. I would assume, having more money than God, the band is fairly shrewd in any partnership they undertake. They approve everything that contains their name or that tacky-as-shit tongue logo. SOMEBODY, had to look at this and give it the proverbial thumbs-up before it could go to press.

The first thought that jumps to my mind would be, “What the fuck do The Rolling Stones know about the mythical “American Dream?” Last time I checked, they weren’t even American for Christ’s sake. Now, I must admit, I haven’t actually heard their newest release, and I have no intention of doing so. So, if the cd contains evidence of unlocking the secret to the American Dream my tirade is all for naught and completely useless. But, I seriously doubt it. I don’t have to listen to it to know how it sounds, it sounds like every other album of theirs for the last 15-20 odd years: A couple of moderately listenable tracks surrounded by 10-12 other songs that are merely audible fillers. I don’t have to listen to it to know I won’t like it, just like I know that if I want to be bored I’ll attempt, once again, to watch “The English Patient.” Some things in life are just a given.

So next time you are thumbing through the pages of the latest edition of Rolling Stone magazine looking for details on the newest Stones tour and you hear the bells a'-tollin'- Remember, that's the sound of rock music dying a tortured and painful death.