Unlike it’s North American counterpart, the Australian music industry is a remarkably small place. Similarly, the press side of the business is often claustrophobic in nature; limited numbers of major newspapers along with an unfathomably small amount of magazine/specialist press. One common factor throughout the country is its reliance on free street press zines- a viciously cutthroat, but painfully amateurish production that finds itself somewhere in between the old school paper zines and glossy monthlies.
One of Australia’s most noted street press companies has in the past year or so taken lead in the industry, purchasing smaller magazines around the country and homogenizing, centralizing, and syndicating a lot of the content. The issue here is not so much the monopoly, but rather the issue that this particular Street Press company is run mostly by drug-huffing, pill popping dance music aficionados and hack DJs who get off to music by David Guetta and Calvin Harris. Page after page after page of dance music and absolutely horrid electro garbage is the norm for coverage outside of standard rock music (heavily leaning towards pretentious indie hipster crap) which means genres excluded get the silent quota coverage— and anyone telling you otherwise is just straight up lying.
Thus comes to the issue of one particular managing editor of this massive press machine, who after promising specific agreed-upon editorial (both via face to face and word of mouth! and not to mention via multiple emails) backed out of said pieces citing, of all things that, “the item was not pencilled in.” On top of which he blamed a recently fired editor of one of their purchased editions as having “dropped the ball.”
Thankfully one of my bosses is far less forgiving and is on the rampage. As for me, my pen is mightier (more crass and less caring) and I will say this:
You sir, are an absolute piece of shit, a lying, backstabbing fuckwit who spends far too much time doing drugs and “DJing” on weekends. You have truly awful taste in music … fucking DJs.