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Doomsday Devices :: Why we're killing ourselves to save print magazines

By Raymond Roker   Photography by N/A

11/06/07 :: URB 150

I promised myself that I wouldn’t get too sentimental as I write my 150th issue Diatribe. And just as that self-imposed moratorium left me to assemble a list of unemotional, but interesting factoids and historical anecdotes, I got an all-too-familiar piece of electronically delivered news: Print is doomed!

Here’s how the future of print was summed up in the article:
“Print as a medium will ultimately fade away, just as parchment became paper, the typewriter gave way to the pc, and the waxed cylinder morphed into the record, then the compact disc, and now the digital download. The first to go will be newspapers, but over time magazines and even books will follow. And not only will they be distributed digitally (read: without paper), and accessed through a variety of devices - some mobile, some not - they will most likely be free. Not this year or next, maybe not even within the span of a decade, but surely in our lifetime. Your trusty copy of The New York Times that stains your hands with ink, your Vanity Fair with Leo DiCaprio on the cover, your dog-eared copy of the bestseller Skinny Bitch will all become museum pieces, bought and sold on eBay as collectibles, or tossed into landfills.” —Adam L. Penenberg, Media Magazine, October 2007

But wait, I love magazines! I love print, period. These days, this plaintiff declaration is like saying “I love album art.” Nobody, besides our friends at the exquisite—but also doomed—Wax Poetics, can hear your screams. As a fan of record sleeve art, you can cite all the intrinsic lore, the romance, the vital role it plays in user experience, blah, blah, blah. All the while, as you drone on about the classic 12” works of wonder, somebody’s downloading another tiny JPEG of ‘album art’ into their iTunes. And the beat goes on. Virtually.  

But, fuck; I really love magazines. I mean I know the industry is hurting right now. Hell, URB surely isn’t immune to the bruising. Advertising revenues for 99% of the magazines out there have declined (some, dramatically) and newsstand sales have dropped too. This year alone saw FHM, Stuff, Scratch, and a bunch of others you’ve never heard of, all shut down. Web 2.0 is the new, new media, and people are spending more time with texting than reading text. 20th Century ink on paper just isn’t as “sexy” to a lot of people, not the least of which are the advertisers who pay for me to even have a page to spill on. The magazine industry, like record labels, has already seen its best days. And like passengers on a sinking ship, all civil order has broken down and competition for life vests is fierce.  

But I can’t be bothered with all of this conventional wisdom and unimaginative doom and gloom. And like the cooler edges of the music industry, independent magazine publishers are creatively staving off their demise with innovation, perseverance and gravitas. We are a resilient bunch, if not downright bullheaded. I’m not arguing the facts or even the future, but, today, I’m more excited about print—and this magazine—than I have been in a long while.   

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