narcsblog

After a year of upheaval at the Observer as they supposedly cling to what life is left in the old rag, it seems they have had yet another redesign.  This time of their all new review section.  Check out my page by page review below.

Little change in the intial few spreads in this important section of the magazine, but far more radical design is only a step away.

finally. the new spirit of the Review is begining to show it’s teeth.

David Mitchell’s column – which is a seriously popular section of this weighty publication – has been a given a Carson-esque sheen.  The copy is not mindless entertainment.  It is confrontational.  Challenging your ideas of how to read.  Words should not come easily.  You must fight blindness to appreciate these thoughts.

But Mitchell was nothing more that a playful test of your eye.  Here, in the first of our new sections of the Review, we are confronted with darkness.  Perhaps a reference to the inner workings of the creative mind?  Or maybe a blank slate, free from preconception placed alongside a spread that has bled itself free from tradtional print media.

The designers are clearly toying with our preconceived ideas of news and self.

now free of the chains of the intellect, we the reader can begin to deconstruct all that fills the page.  Here, a cold blank sea of ink rests playfully against an image of lost moments.

Like sands in time, these faces gaze into the abyss that is waiting for them.

In this, their main feature, baby boomers explain their impact on the planet though the medium of black ink.  Knowledge is ignored, drowned in the satisfied smell of a thick, violently pungent black liquid.

to lighten the mood after a hard hitting piece, the editor writes whimsically on the act of night swimming.

The fashion section introduces it’s newest muse, found in photographs rescued from a hope chest discovered in a skip in Spittlefield’s outside the S & M cafe.

Apparently, black is in this season.

in a move to challenge our understanding of modern print design, we are confronted by a ghost of newspapers past, taunting us with traditional crutches.  Bylines, pull quotes and body copy all cock a snoot at our attempts to break the shackles of the old world.  To be true revolutionaries, we must continue forwards, not allowing this nostalgia in.

Now we have reached true modernity.  A print media free of history or limitations.

Kermode is still on staff however, on vibes…

With his Phd in The Exorcist, he is perhaps best trained of all the existing staff for breaking new ground.

Reviews of the top ten examples of this dark modernity in music is a tie between Metal Machine Music and John Cage’s Silence.

At this stage it is fair to begin asking just who’s subconscious we are in.

If you concentrate looking at this illustation, the sound of Johnny Marr will wash over you and you will no longer be troubled by gravity.

Work as progressive as this would be of great danger to the viewer without some form of foundation.  To keep the reader safe, the final spreads offer a place to decompress and prepare to return to tradtional levels of perception.  They also offer the ability to plan when to watch repeats of Diagnosis Murder.

And just like that, we are back in the real world.  Time has become rigid once more and structure is encouraged.  However, each reader has witness more within this Review, than all the readers of traditional media combined.

But seriously.  It’s bad enough buying the Observer and Guardian knowing that half the content (if not more) is available online for free a day in advance.  It’s even worst when the writers post links to their articles on Twitter a good day ahead (I understand why they want it to be read, but come on!)   But buying it when you can’t even read the fucking thing?  SOOOOOOOOO angry.  There is only so much I will shell out in the belief that someone should pay for this bloody thing.

So why do I?  My parents don’t, choosing instead to buy silly tabloid rubbish for a quick fix of sport and nonsense.  I’ve been shelling out daily for most of my adult life and I really do believe papers are important.  None of my friends buy them.  In fact, I can’t think of a single person I know (aside from my father) who buys a newspaper daily.  Not even my friends who write for the bloody things!  So should I stop being a dinosaur and give up?  It would give me an extra £8.90 a week, which is £38.56 a month or a whopping £462.80 annually.  It puts the licence fee of £145.50 a year in perspective no?

But like other addicts, I need my daily fix.  I just wish todays hadn’t been cut with shit.