Welcome To My Bed

Advance albums.

Every morning at my job in the library circulation office, I have to sort and stamp the newspapers, putting them on sticks to make them easier for general consumption (don't worry, I don't understand why sticks are involved either). One of the obvious perks of the job is reading reviews for various things so that I can decide what movies I'd like to look into, etc. The thing that always makes me excited about sorting the newspapers are the reviews of new albums, but not because I want to know who is releasing new albums. I just want to know what a "professional" opinion is on records I've been listening to already for what seems like (and sometimes has been) months.

For example, Moby's new album Last Night got a positively awful review in the Boston Globe this morning. It made me smile that I could argue with the assertion of the reviewer that it was impersonal and banal. Because I have had it on repeat for the past two weeks. Panic at the Disco's new album was also ripped on, but I remember making the same comment that they were clearly deriving a bit too much from the Beatles some time before spring break. And on and on.

Advance albums are making me bored with pop culture news. The music industry needs to figure itself out, because the internet changed everything at least ten years ago and they have not even begun to deal with it. I feel like life is backwards when I get to something before the media does. I am part of a coveted demographic, and all the newspapers and most major magazines I come in contact with are not only ignoring what I want to be reading about, but they are just not up to speed on what they are trying to report. I rarely see an actress on the cover of a magazine that makes me want to buy it. And I think that my peers agree. There has been a stack of magazines with Eva Mendes on the cover sitting in the campus store since we got here in August and I doubt anyone has so much as touched them.

There has been a lot of protest lately around these parts, but I am far more concerned with how out of touch the publishing world is with the people it tries so desperately to cater to.

I feel doomed to reading Nylon in bed on the weekends and sighing about how it is the only magazine I go out of my way to buy every month.