On a recent visit to my house, my mom brought along a box of Rolling Stone magazines that she’d found in the attic. The issues were from the early 1980s, when I subscribed to the magazine as a high school student and would-be music critic.
Nearly 30 years on, I am enjoying looking through these magazines. Here are some things I have observed:
- Mick Jagger was on the cover a lot, and so was U2.
- Phil Collins, Jack Nicholson and Sting had hair. John Oates had a moustache.
- Julian Lennon looked like an erstwhile member of Duran Duran.
- Ads for cigarettes and alcohol were common. Joe Camel and Two Fingers Tequila appeared often.
- Record clubs were going full bore. Who would pass up an offer of 12 records or cassettes for a penny?
- Cocaine and herpes were frequent topics of coverage.
- Pages were gray, and type was smaller. Big caps were BIG.
- Short poems were used on occasion, perhaps to fill gaps in the layout.
- Longer fiction pieces by the likes of Jackie Collins, Stephen King and Tom Wolfe consumed many pages.
- Writers of headlines and captions often used puns, just as they do now. For example, the Cars were “still in high gear” with Ric Ocasek “behind the wheel.”
- Speaking of the Cars, drummer David Robinson was miffed when he was “replaced by a computer” on the “Heartbeat City” album.
- CD players used “lasers and computers” to play music flawlessly, and there was “even an infrared remote control” to switch tracks instantly.
- Record companies sold collections of music videos on VHS. One called “Primetime Cuts” included songs by Cyndi Lauper, Quiet Riot and Bonnie Tyler.
- Rolling Stone’s pages were big, and issues were thick. That’s not true anymore, as the magazine has shrunk physically.
I stopped reading Rolling Stone sometime in college, switching to Spin magazine for a bit and picking up the now-defunct Musician on occasion. In the late 1990s and early 2000s, I read British music magazines like Q.
Now, I rarely read music magazines, getting most of my news and reviews online, and in The News & Observer. And I never became a music critic. So it goes.