everything's for sale
I said that I was going on holiday, didn't I? Not quite.
Today it was announced that Mess+Noise, the magazine I've been writing for since 2005, has been bought by a firm called Destra, "Australia’s leading independent digital media and entertainment company." Came as news to me. And how do I feel about the fact that M+N's former owners didn't give the writers any prior warning of this change? A little bit pissed off, actually. Actually, quite angry. Actually, crying.
I don't want to romanticise the difficulties involved in Mess+Noise having survived for as long as it already has, partly because I don't feel as if I know the half of it. It's been kept afloat by editor Danny Bos sometimes on sheer will power alone: I remember a few early issues where, with phone/internet disconnected at home, he kept to the print schedule by taking advantage of unsecured wireless connections across Melbourne. He has two children to bring up and he's long been working day jobs on top of the ceaseless work of running a big website and a bi-monthly magazine. I have no right to wish him poor and tired and overworked still, nor do I.
Co-editor Craig Mathieson has also put a heap of energy and skill into M+N, looking after the online magazine content and coaxing some great stories out of a small but dedicated team of writers, particularly when the magazine still existed in print form (final issue was September/October 07, #15).
But the crux of Mess+Noise as a publication was that any advertising the magazine carried had no impact on the editorial content. Our focus was strictly on Australian music, and most of the ads were for small-to-medium indie labels and promoters who carried a mixture of local and foreign acts. To put it simply, we were allowed to write about whatever we wanted, for as many words as it took to say it.
(I've slipped into the past tense already)
You could call such an editorial policy self-indulgent. Perhaps it was. Perhaps it contributed, in the long run, to the print version of the magazine folding. But there was such a joy in being able to pick a topic or a band and go for it, no matter how few listeners or readers cared. And to watch talented writers (and young writers, too, most of us being under 25 when the magazine began) really stretch their muscles was truly exciting. Ben Gook's 2006 profile of The Drones, for instance, a whopper at 6,000 words and in my opinion the best thing we ever published, a piece of writing that made the hair on my neck stand up. Eliza Sarlos on the DIY spaces of Sydney, Andrew Ramadge's wonderful piece on Melbourne art-pop pranksters Aleks And The Ramps - so many articles that no other magazine would have ever considered running. Would I have got a cover story out of Wollongong punk band Ohana, who've sold about 50 records, if I'd taken it to Rolling Stone, say? I doubt it. Australia's music scene is comparatively small, the audience for music publications even smaller. Mess+Noise was unlike anything else around: a perfect-bound, beautifully designed, bi-monthly magazine full of detailed pieces and excellent art work, and all for free. No cover charge.
As writers we barely got paid and we all worked ourselves into the ground. Sometimes it was a fucking chore. But I'll say now, without reservation, that it was worth it. Worth it because for a time we all felt like a part of - dare I say it? - some kind of dysfunctional but affectionate family. We all cared, and we were all proud of that thing that would birth itself every two months amidst strings of sleepless nights from Sydney to Perth, and that kept functioning because (mostly) young bands and (mostly) young writers were willing to meet at noisy pubs and weekend cafe tables and talk stories at each other over cheap recording devices. I've made wonderful friends out of fellow writers and interview subjects at Mess+Noise. It's these friends who matter to me most.
Can I now align that experience with a company that states:
"This acquisition extends destra’s capacity to deliver credible and compelling content and create advertising opportunities on a multi-platform basis around targeted, online communities, particularly in the X & Y demographic"?
I don't feel that I can. "Oh, stop being precious", I hear you say, "you were bought long ago/ welcome to the world of unmitigated consumer capitalism/don't be so naive as to think that your experiences can exist apart from it". I know they don't. I know that it's called the music industry for a reason.
And yet, I can't stop crying right now. It's not until today that I've felt sold.
Today it was announced that Mess+Noise, the magazine I've been writing for since 2005, has been bought by a firm called Destra, "Australia’s leading independent digital media and entertainment company." Came as news to me. And how do I feel about the fact that M+N's former owners didn't give the writers any prior warning of this change? A little bit pissed off, actually. Actually, quite angry. Actually, crying.
I don't want to romanticise the difficulties involved in Mess+Noise having survived for as long as it already has, partly because I don't feel as if I know the half of it. It's been kept afloat by editor Danny Bos sometimes on sheer will power alone: I remember a few early issues where, with phone/internet disconnected at home, he kept to the print schedule by taking advantage of unsecured wireless connections across Melbourne. He has two children to bring up and he's long been working day jobs on top of the ceaseless work of running a big website and a bi-monthly magazine. I have no right to wish him poor and tired and overworked still, nor do I.
Co-editor Craig Mathieson has also put a heap of energy and skill into M+N, looking after the online magazine content and coaxing some great stories out of a small but dedicated team of writers, particularly when the magazine still existed in print form (final issue was September/October 07, #15).
But the crux of Mess+Noise as a publication was that any advertising the magazine carried had no impact on the editorial content. Our focus was strictly on Australian music, and most of the ads were for small-to-medium indie labels and promoters who carried a mixture of local and foreign acts. To put it simply, we were allowed to write about whatever we wanted, for as many words as it took to say it.
(I've slipped into the past tense already)
You could call such an editorial policy self-indulgent. Perhaps it was. Perhaps it contributed, in the long run, to the print version of the magazine folding. But there was such a joy in being able to pick a topic or a band and go for it, no matter how few listeners or readers cared. And to watch talented writers (and young writers, too, most of us being under 25 when the magazine began) really stretch their muscles was truly exciting. Ben Gook's 2006 profile of The Drones, for instance, a whopper at 6,000 words and in my opinion the best thing we ever published, a piece of writing that made the hair on my neck stand up. Eliza Sarlos on the DIY spaces of Sydney, Andrew Ramadge's wonderful piece on Melbourne art-pop pranksters Aleks And The Ramps - so many articles that no other magazine would have ever considered running. Would I have got a cover story out of Wollongong punk band Ohana, who've sold about 50 records, if I'd taken it to Rolling Stone, say? I doubt it. Australia's music scene is comparatively small, the audience for music publications even smaller. Mess+Noise was unlike anything else around: a perfect-bound, beautifully designed, bi-monthly magazine full of detailed pieces and excellent art work, and all for free. No cover charge.
As writers we barely got paid and we all worked ourselves into the ground. Sometimes it was a fucking chore. But I'll say now, without reservation, that it was worth it. Worth it because for a time we all felt like a part of - dare I say it? - some kind of dysfunctional but affectionate family. We all cared, and we were all proud of that thing that would birth itself every two months amidst strings of sleepless nights from Sydney to Perth, and that kept functioning because (mostly) young bands and (mostly) young writers were willing to meet at noisy pubs and weekend cafe tables and talk stories at each other over cheap recording devices. I've made wonderful friends out of fellow writers and interview subjects at Mess+Noise. It's these friends who matter to me most.
Can I now align that experience with a company that states:
"This acquisition extends destra’s capacity to deliver credible and compelling content and create advertising opportunities on a multi-platform basis around targeted, online communities, particularly in the X & Y demographic"?
I don't feel that I can. "Oh, stop being precious", I hear you say, "you were bought long ago/ welcome to the world of unmitigated consumer capitalism/don't be so naive as to think that your experiences can exist apart from it". I know they don't. I know that it's called the music industry for a reason.
And yet, I can't stop crying right now. It's not until today that I've felt sold.
9 Comments:
Well that explains why some numpty from the Daily Tele just called my mobile asking about M+N...
Thanks for the comment on the Drones piece. Flattering. I haven't looked at it since it was published, but I remember writing it -- the strange eddies of tension and release that accompany setting down (again and again) to write something that large. It meant something to me while I was writing it, which is how I always want writing to be. It remains to be seen if M+N will retain the same pull now (for both writers and readers -- and discussion board hacks).
Do our dearest corporate interests realise this? That they're likely to fudge the whole thing with their corporate tweaks? The confusing crosswinds of advertising and editorial interests?
I wonder if the magazine will be resuscitated now. I wonder if there'll be, say, a Silverchair cover story to kick it off?
Bollocks to that.
But kudos, too, to your comments about Danny and Craig. They've worked hard and they've struggled and done more than their best. If there's sour grapes here, I'm sure they're probably tasting the sourest abominations that viticulture has to offer.
It was out of modesty, I assume, that you left aside three of your own stunning contributions to the mag's history:
Art of Fighting
Charge Group (no link!)
Bluebottle Kiss
And others I'm sure I'll recall as soon as I click 'publish'...
Very sad to see the print version go, easily the best mag going in this country. Actual engaging articles on independent Aussie bands! SHOCK! Here's hoping the online community stays vibrant, for sure us ramps would be dead in the water without M+N.....
A clarification: Danny and Craig were forbidden, legally, from discussing the sale of the site. Hence the lack of prior warning for the rest of us.
I too was sad to see the print version vanish from pubs and band rooms around the country; I always looked forward to snaring a copy. As for the future of Mess+Noise, I'm a little nervous and a little suspicious; it's hard to be optimistic. Not that I want Danny or Craig to feel bad.
Whatever happens to it, anyway, there'll always be people like you keen to keep interesting and interested dialogue running, and you'll find a home - or you'll make it.
Emmy, I'm really glad that you kept this post up.
And for the record, it was totally awesome sharing pages with you, Ben and the rest of the team.
Andy -- nice sharing pages with you too. But I must question all this past tense. I, for one, am not going anywhere just yet -- and Emmy hasn't suggested she's going anywhere either. I trust Danny to have worked up an agreement that's favourable to the music side of the website and, perhaps, a revived magazine. (Hence my Silverchair comment should be taken in the lighthearted, ironic spirit in which it was intended to be received. No nonce would get the "market" that confused.)
My comment about the crosswinds stands, though: often the starched-shirts with the cash don't understand the sensitive sheep in the indie realm dart off to another paddock at the nearest thing to a fright of change. I hope the shirts listen to Danny in this, as I'm certain he's far more attuned to the community than they ever will be. I hope, that is to say, this provides a cash injection with as few as possible editorial strings attached...
Oh, I didn't mean to sound ominous!
I'm sure we'll share pages again, in a revived M+N or elsewhere.
I'm keen to hear from Danny and Craig about what the future holds and what the purchase means, but more importantly I hope they got the deal they were after and are doing well.
I think everyone knew Mess+Noise couldn't run on vapours forever.
mess and noise was an amazing magazine.
i remember being so excited when i heard about it's impending launch - we were very proud to be advertising in the first issue. it revealed to me an amazing crew of writers who were passionate, literate and creative, and shone a light on some real music alternatives.
big love to dan and christie who struggled to do something positive in an industry full of sheep.
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