Month / September 2006

by Edward Champion

The Information Wants to Be Free, But is the Information Worth It?

freedailies.jpg

The BBC reports that Rupert Murdoch’s News International has launched London’s third free daily, referred to, without apparent deference to e.e. cummings or tomandandy, as thelondonpaper. The paper’s editor, Stefano Hatfield notes, “This is a generation who grew up with the world wide web. They usually get their news delivered to them in their e-mail inboxes or at the click of a button. It is difficult to persuade young people that news should be something you pay for.”

So if the information, as Hatfield suggests, wants to be free and is disseminated everywhere, is a free daily the answer in a dying newspaper market? Further, will a free daily, devoted to instantaneous four-paragraph stories instead of long-form pieces, dumb down journalism and encourage lazy reporting?

It’s difficult to gauge a newspaper on the other side of the Atlantic when you’re halfway across the world and you don’t have a copy in your hands, but a look at the Metro‘s website (the Metro is the current leading free London daily) isn’t encouraging. There are childish “Gimme” and “Play” sections, an egregious “Metrosexual” section loaded with insubstantial fluff[1] and poorly edited copy[2], absolutely no arts coverage to speak of[3], and a “Pictures” section which suggests a Fahrenheit 451 nightmare come to life.[4]

I cannot believe that the entire 18-35 generation is this dumb or this easily amused. If the bar is set this low, I wonder if a daily newspaper, even a free one, appealing to hard reporting and intellect could even find an audience amidst this glut. The development of the Metro and thelondonpaper may be similar to the New York newspaper wars in the 1890s. After all, both involve numerous competitors flooding a potential marketplace. Both involve efforts to push journalism beyond the status quo. Both involve upping the ante to reach new audiences.

I am by no means the first to make such a comparison. But where the 1890s crowd may have protested Hearst’s inflated coverage of the Spanish-American War, if London’s free dailies are devoted to junk news written by junk journalists and read by junk audiences, then will people protest or bother to scrutinize these ethereal dailies?

Then again, look at the blogosphere.

[1] I believe that a story about fertility and weight can be interesting, but when a reporter has only short and snappy paragraphs to cobble together a story and must compete with invasive pleas to join the interactive foray, how can any meaningful journalism be attempted?

[2] For example:

If you’re planning on working overseas the report reveals the best profession to get into if you want a bit of regular kinky after work exercise – 10 per cent of our young travellers get it on with the holiday rep.

What kind of sentence is this?

[3] Unless Kate Moss in underwear is a kind of art.

[4] The Metro was designed to be read in 20 minutes and has remained deliberately unchallenging. The second free daily, London Lite[5], is put out by Associated Newspapers. In this Guardian article, Associated free newspaper honcho Steve Auckland extolled the Lite‘s “long, turgid articles” and “lively, breezy format.”

[5] I hope I’m not the only one bothered by this spelling.

by Edward Champion

Roundup

Way some folks figger it, when you’re just sputtering into consciousness and you’s got a blog, last thing folks need is some half-assed roundup. Then you stare at that old mug in the mirror and you says to yourself, “Well, shit, you ain’t no one’s sweetheart. And you ain’t be doing no thinkin’ anytime soon.” And if a roundup was what the Good Lord intended, then who am I to argue with His ways? But the flaws be mine. Last night’s drinkin’ o’ the devil’s jooce went a little too fine for my tastes and my head’s now a-throbbing and my body’s a-aching. And since the head’s the thing, and I’m feeling a bit woozy, I do declare that I ain’t capable of nary an extended thought, save I ‘spect for some idle speculation on aspirin.

So’s I’m hoping you’ll a-pardon my slippyshod collection of links, all kitty-cornered-like against that damn wall I keep forgettin’ to paint. Primer’s in the garage, but them bristles on the brushes ain’t getting crisp anytime soon. And I ‘spect a trip downtown in my trusty Chevy truck is in this afternoon’s cards.

  • I may not get out to Californyah much. So I cants really follow all them Hungarian poets that them Angeleno folk seem so set on. Why, hell, what kind of man spells his first name like that? But that boy’s mother — the Angeleno soul, that is — insists that this Faludy ain’t no foofaraw. So’s you alls better check him out.
  • Now this Barlow dude takes an issue or two with the ways some peoples talk. Now I ain’t much one for language. I’s just about reads and writes and even had a letter of mine printed in the paper about them damn septic tanks gettin’ so expensive these days. So I ain’t of proper mind to tells ya right or wrong. But sometimes folks talk in a particular way without no fault of their own. And them Brits ain’t in no position to speak final of our pidgin, seeing as how they’s yet to pronounce that letter zee the way the Good Lord intended it.
  • You know, I’s try to stay on good terms with me neighbors. So’s I can relate to this Mumpsimus’s casual insistence that we’s all get along. Ain’t you all heard the Good Lord’s edict? Love thy neighbor, I always say. And if you got some pissing territory for you to pass water, why I be happies if y’all came clamoring ’round to my rockshed outhouse. I donts mind — ain’t no ‘scriminatin’ here — if you’s all need to go, just so’s long as you’s all stop spilling your waste on some poor soul trying to build his own l’il shed.
  • So how we ‘duce these here motivations of a commie newspaperman. I tell’s ya, I ain’t never mets a man named Izzy round these parts. Sure this boy meant well, but the cat was conflicted, much like my’s own cat Scooter. I tells ya, Scooter don’ts know when it’s day or night, mostly cause he shy away from the sun. Yet I know he need some sturdy light every once and a while. You gots to take care of your pets if you wants them to remain happy. And that means understanding the basics of what the Good Lord set down. He says, hey there be day and there be night, and many things ‘twixt between. I do’s my best, but Scooter, he only see night and that ain’t no good way to wander ’bout our world.
  • Now’s I do sure loves me some mysteries, but I think these folks going too far. They a-takin’ Rankin’s Rebus and makin’ him younger and lighter. I ‘spect they taking out the edge, taking out that breezy aura keepin’ hairs standin’ up on your neck, putsa hair on your chest. These producers think they gettin’ an invite to the Sunday barbeque from me, they got’s another thing comin’.
  • And, wells, I gotta go. Missus comin’ round asking me ’bout the wall which I’s gotta paint and I ain’t ’bout to cross her. But you folks out there keep readin’, y’hear?