(Comics) Journalism Is Dead. Long Live (Comics) Journalism.

(Comics) Journalism Is Dead. Long Live (Comics) Journalism.

Jun 17

Heidi has an interesting post up over on The Beat (“…on the upbeat, till a man comes along, he says…”) about the state of the New Newsarama, and comics “journalism” in general:

So what’s to be done? Comic Book Resources still has the best columns in the biz, and is stepping up in the news department, but every site out there still has to deal with threats to their access, and given the what fans want to read (previews and interviews, apparently) there’s just no way anyone can gain enough independence anymore.

Which brought to mind Kevin Huxford’s recent musing on the death of Tim Russert, and how there’s no one even comparable in the comics realm:

Man, I wish there was someone that comic notables felt that they HAD to submit to being interviewed by and could press for firm answers (without being spat upon by half of the fans out there).

All of which, honestly, hits me with a sorta big DUH.

Journalism as it should be practiced, and as we’ve come to know it over the past hundred-odd years, is effectively dead. ESPECIALLY entertainment journalism.

In other words, they’re kicking a rotted, maggot-ridden corpse. (Not that it doesn’t DESERVE the kicks, but still.)

I spent some time in college obsessed with the great rockcrits of the seventies, mostly Lester Bangs and Griel Marcus, but a little Dave Marsh too, and by extension the whole family of whacked-out Rolling Stone madmen (though I’ve never read much Hunter Thompson, at least, not yet). It gave me some kind of young writerly fire in my loins, to imagine that the printed word could make or break careers, or that arts criticism could somehow aspire to the same lofty artistic heights of the very creations it was covering.

I forget exactly when my illusions shattered; it probably took time. I will, however, never forget a story I heard in passing at some point, regarding rock writer Jim DeRogatis and his time at Rolling Stone:

From 1995-96, DeRogatis served as an editor at Rolling Stone magazine, but was fired after writing a negative review of Hootie & the Blowfish’s album Fairweather Johnson. The review irked Rolling Stone publisher Jann Wenner who had it pulled from publication. DeRogatis’s employment with the magazine was terminated after he revealed this incident to the public.

There was a time when that level of editorial interference was sickening to me. Fight the power, DeRo, said I!

I quickly learned it was more the norm than the exception, especially after spending time way way deep in the trenches of the magazine industry, where I’d listen to the editor of Cinescape beg and plead on the phone with studio reps for just a few paltry slides from an upcoming blockbuster that magazines like Entertainment Weekly and Premiere would probably not even touch with a ten-foot pen. Still, the hierarchy had to be respected, and concessions made–if it meant sitting on a nauseatingly condescending “round table” call with John Travolta about his crazy scientology sci-fi flick Battlefield Earth and then writing it up as an “interview,” so be it.

It’s all about access, as Heidi points out, and it always has been, and nowadays, I’m starting to think it always will be–at least, in the center of the storm. On the fringes, you still find incredible journalism and writing about pop culture and politics and just about everything else–it’s great stuff, but it often lacks the weight of first-person interaction with the sources themselves.

So I can love the writing of David Uzumeri on Grant Morrison, but I don’t imagine DC will be lining up to help David spend an afternoon interrogating Morrison on his creative decisions, and at this point, I’d wager DC publicity will be getting the questions in advance and maybe even sitting in on the call/e-mails, just to insure everything goes smoothly. Even moreso with someone like Dan DiDio–if ever a comics editor deserved a severe grilling at the hands of educated fan journalists, it’s that guy–but that’ll happen when pigs fly through a snow-covered hell.

And this is the way IT ALWAYS HAS BEEN. For most of my adult life, and probably long before, there’s been a back-scratching incestuous relationship between the entertainment media and the figures and subjects they cover. Here’s a free DVD–you’ll give it a good write-up, right? Come to our junket and eat our free food; let’s tour these sets, and you can meet a star–just send over the story before you print it, so I can make sure the “facts” are “correct.” Here’s a PDF of my new comics series–you’re one of the first to see it–you DID like it, right?

Ass kissing ass kissing ass kissing ass, all in pursuit of the most seamless and vapid coverage possible. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain–instead, we’re giving away copies of The Waltons on DVD to the first five lucky readers who reply to this post! HUZZAH!

I’m still not immune; I do interviews and blogging over at HeavyInk, and I would not call what I do even remotely close to “journalism.” Then again, I don’t have any illusions about it, and honestly, I wager folks like Matt Brady and Jonah Weiland, or Jann Wenner, or Billy Bush don’t have illusions about it either.

Unfortunately, the illusion still seems to persist sometimes out in the world, amongst us readers, who consume and only sometimes stop to think who’s pulling the strings on the puppets we’re watching as they dance and dance and dance…

So Heidi and Kevin, and everyone else, I hear what you’re saying, but you’re a couple decades late and a few billion dollars short. The media belongs to the newsmakers, instead of the other way around, and there’s no hope at all.