Gone Gonzo

Hunter S. Thompson was a twisted sort of role model for me to have had back when I was still wide-eyed Molly Sheridan, cub reporter, and I find that there's really not a lot of call for that kind of journalism (other than how to tip a whiskey bottle) now that my beat is the new music field.

But maybe there should be. There are plenty of musicians around who could provide the "say what?" and Quentin Tarantino could provide the composer-associated profanity. Yes, hyperbole, but instead of navel-gazing op-eds detailing the end of civilization as evidenced by the death of the newspaper critic--seriously, who knew a chair at the obit desk was the critic's heart's desire?--maybe it's time to get not a new topic, but a new angle on the proposition.

Greg Sandow has been writing a lot about how a rock vs classical critic tackles the live concert review, which has provided ample it-doesn't-have-to-be-this-way food for thought, and AJ's own fearless leader, Doug McLennan, has certainly embraced the show-don't-tell model of change.

The inbox delivers up plenty of enquiring-minds material--many of them topics I wish there was more time to explore in summer road trip fashion and at book-length word count if only there were no need to pay the electric bill. But though that may be what the writer desires, what does the reader seek? In a digital landscape where (setting aside copyright concerns for a moment) content presentation is wildly open to fresh reformation, what do cultural consumers want from their media about media? Is the concert review, the cd review, and the once-in-a-while profile piece really all there is? What would gonzo arts reporting be and what might it do for the place?

UPDATE: Doug has also posted some deep thoughts in response to Martin Bernheimer's recent "arts criticism was killed by the blogger on the Internet" essay in the Financial Times.