Letter from the Editor: Desperate journalist in ongoing meaningful review situation
Photo Courtesy of Nick Spacek
Greetings dearest reader, and welcome to the July print issue of The Pitch: our annual dedicated Music Issue. This one is always a beast to tackle, mainly because everyone in our orbit wants to contribute. There is simply too much great music—and along with it, too many great stories—for us to have enough page space to squeeze everyone in.
The title of this Letter from the Editor is borrowed from my favorite diss track—a song by The Cure in 1979, wherein they respond to an NME critic whomst didn’t dig their new album. More so than just being a delightfully petty move, Robert Smith went the extra mile and even quoted full lines from the scathing review, so that he could refute them in real time. It’s both a blistering rebuke but equally an unparalleled level of “living rent-free” in someone’s head.
Whereas ‘79 was a peak time to ask how dare music journalists pay their rent by judging the output of strangers, the title, and general vibes radiating from this song have evolved in recent years into a bleaker yet more universal situation. In part, because no one can pay their rent with music journalism anymore. Many of the best-paying publications in the field have been liquidated in the last decade, or sold off into shells of what they once were. Some remain, but in a form that never brings a critical lens to anything, instead serving as advertising for no one. Even the “Ongoing Meaningful Review Situation” of the song’s title refers to the (then) common practice of music journalists embedding with a band for a week, in order to add color to their profiles. Back in the ‘90s, this publication could fly people overseas for music coverage. Now, I’m just jealous of any outlet that can cover gas and parking.
As dire as things have become for music journalism—and journalism across the board—these last few years have gone even worse for musicians themselves. Our last few annual music issues went from covering the few artists that were managing to release new music during lockdown, to covering the venues that were trying to make a comeback as lockdown lifted, to celebrating the lesser highlighted folks in the shadows of the industry—tour managers, sound engineers, roadies, and the other un-spotlighted superstars that make the musical world go round. 2024 has seen that capitalism itself can create pile-ons worse than a worldwide superbug.
When I interviewed CAKE’s John McCrea at the start of the year, the notoriously dry songwriter and I matched each other’s freak (depression!) in conversation about a circling of the drain. Music venues across the world have started imposing fees on artists selling their own merch at live shows. Payouts to artists for their own music on streaming platforms have hit new lows. The ticketing industry itself has spiraled so far out of control that the Justice Department is suing Live Nation-Ticketmaster. This, alongside the fact that COVID remains, and one member of a touring team contracting it can mean several days of surprise cancellations mid-tour. When I asked McCrea if there was any reason to even try to be a professional musician these days, all factors included, he said that bands should have formed a union 50 years ago, but it was probably too late now. “Streaming platforms aren’t going to be nice to us because we’re creative or something. We have to aggregate our power into economic power.”
Amid all that unpleasantness, there are so many folks in The Pitch’s orbit that persevere, because they believe in the power of this community, and the importance of our platform to keeping rock’n’roll alive. The beating heart of all of this is our own Nick Spacek.
Spacek, our music editor, has been taking a huge hand in our coverage of the region for the better part of two decades now. The man with a “Rockstar Journalist” tattoo has simply never run out of passion for the human beings behind every loud sound in the Lawrence/KC area. Each and every week is a grab bag of surprises for me, as I never know what ridiculous touring rock god or local high school punk he’s chosen to profile. The man spends more time at Replay Lounge than at his own home, and his personal challenge to never cease living on the cusp of the new is a testament to journalistic obsession.
He’s also wonderfully fucking weird. In an interview this summer with the lead singer of TOOL, a Facebook commenter decried Spacek for asking questions about minutiae like coffee and spreadsheets. I’m sorry dude, but who else is going to get answers from one of the world’s biggest rock stars on his personal caffeination levels and Google Docs situation? That’s Pitch exclusive material, man.
What most don’t know is that Spacek manages the entirety of music coverage at this publication, and that involves tracking, training, and tirading with managers, PR, venues, bands, security, etc.—He makes sure that several dozen writers and photographers get access to anyone, anywhere, anytime. When you check out our website and see photos, write-ups, or interviews from 15 shows in a single week, that’s all Spacek’s doing. When we get glowing emails from musicians who cannot believe an outlet of our size is still covering live shows in the region, that’s Spacek.
We would not be the same publication without our modern, enduring version of a desperate journalist in an ongoing meaningful review situation. [Nick, please take the compliment. I know you’re bad at that, but I phrased it in derogatory framing, so meet me halfway.]
Pitch in, and we’ll make it through,
