Out of Focus

I’ve just put down the first issue of the much hyped Monocle, Wallpaper* founder Tyler Brûlé’s return to editorial management in the publishing industry. Dubbed Vice meets the Economist by the Huffington Post, Monocle is intended to serve as a “new, global, European based media brand” that delivers direct and unfiltered coverage of international affairs and culture by using the conventional print medium in synthesis with complimenting online features and documentaries.

I was attracted to Monocle after reading an introductory piece in the Independent by editor Andrew Tuck. In his article, Tuck calls for a new breed of newsmagazine that disregards market analysts and demographic research in the interest of pursuing stories that merit coverage because of their object value. He argues that his employer, Mr. Brûlé, heads a journalistic enterprise that is bringing such a desirable to life. By removing itself from the conventional wisdoms of marketing in the publishing industry, Monacle will offer, he claims, a scope of coverage on politics, internationalism, culture, and the arts that otherwise wouldn’t see the light of day. Take it from him…

Forget the focus groups. We haven’t employed a market research company to test “the product”; there have been no surveys, no questionnaires for potential readers. The only people who have read the copy, commented on layouts, deliberated over the cover, have been the Monocle team.

I wish I could say that’s a good thing.

If you’ll allow me, I’d like to read to you what the back spread of Monocle, opposite the cover, says: Gucci. And the magazine’s first fifteen pages: Cartier (1-2), Louis Vuitton (3-4), Cathay Pacific (5-6), Prada (7-8), Audi (9-10), Hugo Boss (11-12), Moncler (13-14), and Bottega Veneta (15). Next are the table of contents. Afterwhich comes: Dior, Versace, Yves St-Laurent, Puma, Paneri, Salvatore Ferragamo, Tretorn, and Tod’s.

I think you get the picture. There are no focus groups because the research has already been done. Monocle isn’t a magazine so much as it’s a strategy— a demographic bullet aimed at the heart of dispensable income.

The first issue of Monocle renders Tuck’s claim that the magazine is produced without consideration given to a target audience insulting. The advertisement spreads alone reveal the publication’s mission statement to be a hoax. However, I can’t blame Brûlé, fresh off his turn as the proprieter of —what else?— a marketing and advertising consultant agency, for streamlining a lie to protect his five million dolar investment. Speaking for the magazine, his editor goes on to write:

We think Monocle is just what the market needs – a title that spends serious money on sending writers and photographers to find the best stories on every continent and opposes armchair journalism and shuns celebrity (that includes celebrity writers; we have no star columnists, no picture bylines).

Really? Because, as I see it, Monocle might be the only magazine in the world whose website features a page that covers the press clippings of its mercurial founder. Beginning with the slick, polished press conference Brûlé called in the fall of last year to announce the arrival of his new global brand, the erstwhile star columnist for the Financial Times has been on a self-promotion tear, darting from photo-op to interview to press junket and from continent to continent on the way and in-between. Monocle isn’t shunning star power, it’s banking on it.

The pretense we’ve been given for Monocle’s existence is a ruse. The magazine has an obvious target audience of upper class and upper middle class trendspotters who will buy and read publications just because they’re percieved as daft, novel, and hip. Tyler Brûlé has been on a global publicity tour for months making sure that Monocle’s image is appealing to its target demographic. To his credit, he’s so far been successful and, as the first issue of his new paper attests, the corporate sponsors that came biting were all well aware of the kind of audience Monocle will attract in the months to come.

Of course, I would be silly to discount a publication just because it’s mission statement doesn’t align with its business practices. No, in order to render a proper judgement of Monocle I had to brave the forest of two page spreads for luxury watches and designer houses Brûlé calls issue one in search of content.

First off, I can tell you that the comparison to Vice is unfitting. Vice is more confrontational than it is exploratory, which Monocle intends to be. Even more perplexing is the likening of Monocle to the polestar of advocacy journalism, The Economist. With its values rooted in secular humanism and its pronounced love of free and unregulated markets, The Economist has a strong, concise mission defined by its appreciation for combining creative argument and clinical reasoning. I’ve already gone over how Monocle’s mission statement isn’t compatible with its marketing or the face of intent it puts on for the public forum. Frankly, even letting it drip off of the same exhale as The Economist would be a ridiculous waste of breath.

Monocle’s layout is trecherously minimalist, almost as if it was designed exlusively out of the Swiss bureau. The story content is led by a lengthy cover on Japan’s struggle to reconcile its post-war constitution with a world where national security has become an international portfolio as much as it is a domestic one. The article focus is the Japanese navy and it’s dry, decent coverage, but fails to deliver on the promise of providing news analysis for those willing to reach more than an arm’s length away from Foreign Affairs.

One feature that has garnered significant attention from the press has been a profile of Iranian president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s style of dress. The sartorial study of everyone’s favourite AIDS research pioneer turns out to be a laughing stock. It might come as hard to believe for the editors at Monocle, but it doesn’t take an Oxbridge to figure out that wearing open collared shirts is one way to convey a relaxed pedestrian look. Why it took them all the pages and needless diagrams it did to explain this and the fact that beige sports blazers are working class is beyond me. Anyone with the smallest knowledge of Iran’s theocratic regime will also know that ties have been condemned as a symbol of Western authority and that the president’s open collars are in keeping with the will of his country’s religious leaders. I felt embarassed reading such a stupid article in what claims to be a serious magazine.

2/3 of the story pages are literally occupied by pictures, leaving the Japan story to drag on for almost 20 of them. Monocle often feels like an aimless digital gallery forced into print, hanging in a space it was never meant to occupy. The photos are all simple, geometric, and rarely contain mobile objects or people. You might remember the great British automotive designer and inventor Colin Chapman, one of the pioneers of the minimalist style. Minimalism, Bauhaus, constructivism, even Modernism and most 20th century movements in design revolved around one principle: function. Chapman cars looked titanium sleek, but they also won seven world championships and the Indy 500. For all that was put into the look, the engine still carried the product. But if you pick up an issue of Monocle, don’t be surprised if you feel like you’re holding a symmetrical frame that the assembly line forgot to load with an engine. It might look nice, but ahm’a reckon it don’t run too good. And Monocle’s empty, boring culture section couldn’t embody this any more perfectly. Featuring painfully obvious music ‘recs,’ Damon Albarn and Nick Cave’s newest side projects for instance, the staff’s media and art recommendations are completely safe and totally Top of the Pops.

My overall impression is this: Monocle is clearly an unapologetic criticism of Vanity Fair. It’s Tyler Brûlé’s 21st century vision of Condé Nast. Unfortunately, it lacks both the brevity and thought of a James Wolcott and the wit and percipience of a Christopher Hitchens. Vanity Fair isn’t a celebrity rag, as Andrew Tuck implies in his Independent article. If we were lucky enough to have Condé Nast with us today, I believe he would be far more interested in Tom Ford’s Hollywood than he would ever care to read Monocle’s haut monde ‘Edits,’ code for ridiculously tacky guides to the lushest hotels, swankiest eateries, and voguest lounges in the editoral staff’s favourite jetset destinations.

Brûlé and company have built what looks like a beautiful car. Unfortunately, it has no engine to run on.

MUSIC FOR THE DAY

Walking around the magazine shop the other day, I noticed that Rolling Stone has declared John Mayer, John Frusciante (of the Red Hot Chili Peppers), and some half-aborted redneck named Dereck Trucks as this generation’s Guitar Gods. I don’t think I have to say how embarassing this is for anyone who has ever done so much as pick up a six string. However, rather than gripe, I think it’s better to suck it up and promote the real deal. So here he is:

Michio Kurihara was born in 1961 on the West side of Tokyo. As a small child, he took interest in Holst, Smetana, Borodin and other composers, paying particular attention to string quartets of the Baroque era. It wasn’t until his teens that Kurihara became interested in rock music and took up guitar-playing upon discovering important underground American psych groups like Spirit, Blue Cheer, Love, the MC5, and Quicksilver Messenger Service.

In the early 80s, Kurihara made a name for himself as a journeyman after playing with a handful of groups around Tokyo’s club scene. That name found its way to You Ishihara, the frontman of psychedelic rockers White Heaven, who asked Kurihara to join his band in 1986. With Kurihara developing a chunky, feedback-ridden sound in the mold of the psych bands he listened to growing up, White Heaven became probably the most important underground rock act to emerge from Tokyo during the decade they were active. The group’s trippy stomp, heavy riffing, and spaced-out jams would end up influencing bands on both sides of the Pacific.

When White Heaven disbanded in the early 90s, Kurihara lent his services to singer-songwriter Masaki Batoh’s prolific experimental folk ensemble Ghost, eventually recieving an invitation join the group as a full-time member and contributing songwriter. For over two decades, Ghost has been one of the leading groups of the Japanese underground and their neverending stylistic experimentation has left Kurihara with tons of room to develop various playing techniques. On their albums, you can hear him take the reins of one song with a staggering riff or a climactic solo, only to hang back and create hushed, ambient noise behind the melodies of the next two. In 1997, Batoh and Kurihara formed Cosmic Invention with Blaze Subvert drummer Futoshi Okano as an outlet for more straightforward and conventional rock songwriting between Ghost albums.

Over the years, Ghost built a sizeable cult fanbase in North America and Europe which included Boston’s Damon Krukowski & Naomi Yang, former members of the indie pop outfit Galaxie 500 (interesting non sequitur: Galaxie 500 was formed at Harvard, where Krukowski borrowed the drum set he used early on in the group’s history from talk show host-to-be Conan O’Brien). Damon & Naomi, who now record as a duo, lauded Ghost in press interviews throughout the mid-90s and eventually convinced the group to open for them on North American soil, which ended with Batoh penning a song for their 1998 album Playback Singers. The acts found touring to be such a mutually beneficial experience that they would later record an album together, released as Damon & Naomi with Ghost in 2000. Ever since the collaboration, Kurihara has offered himself as a studio musician for Damon & Naomi recordings, and often accompanies the duo as a member of their touring entourage. His contributions to composition and arrangement has increased with every Damon & Naomi release since With Ghost, and has helped his friends achieve long sought-after critical success. Until their involvement with Ghost, Damon and Naomi were a respected folk duo, but their music was hardly considered original and was often overshadowed by their work in Galaxie 500.

To the delight of many, Kurihara formed a new group, the Stars, with his White Heaven bandmate You Ishihara in 2003. The group has released two albums since, both of which continue White Heaven’s tradition of riff heavy psychedelic rock. 2005 saw Kurihara issue an experimental solo album called Sunset Notes, a collection of nine mostly instrumental tracks written while he watched the sun set. Last year paired Japanese drone-stoner rock icons Boris with Kurihara, the result of which was a collaboration album called Rainbow. Boris’ slow, thunderous sludge gave Kurihara the freedom to play some acrobatic technical solos over a heavy rhythm section— a significant release, after having toured on a tranquil, folksy record with Damon & Naomi just months before.

Ghost released In Stormy Nights in early 2007 and will likely spend at least part of the year on the road. If the band makes it to your area, make sure to go out and catch not just the most exciting guitarist of his generation, but one of the most important folk/ rock/ psych/ experimental acts today.

Ghost live excerpt (that’s Masaki Batoh in view and on the mic— the massive, fuzzed out wall behind everything is Kurihara’s guitar).

Here are some Kurihara highlights from over the years. Not all of the tracks are shredfests. This guy is a gifted player who knows that the best musicians know when not to play. Of course, that’s not to say there isn’t some nutshit insane riffing and soloing included.

“Motherly Bluster” from 2007’s In Stormy Nights.
By Ghost.

“Sweet No. 1” from 2006’s Rainbow.
By Boris and Michio Kurihara.

“A Second Life” and “House of Glass” from 2005’s The Earth is Blue.
By Damon & Naomi.

“Lemonade” from 2005’s Perfect Place to Hideaway.
By the Stars.

“Wind Waltzes” from 2005’s Sunset Notes.
By Michio Kurihara.

“Piper” and “Holy High” from 2004’s Hypnotic Underworld.
By Ghost.

“Eye of the Storm” from 2002’s Song to the Siren.
By Damon and Naomi on tour with Kurihara.

“I Dreamed of the Caucasus” from 2000’s With Ghost.
By Damon & Naomi with Ghost.

“Live With Me” from 1999’s Snuffbox Immanence.
By Ghost.

“Help Your Satori Mind” and “Blue Link” from 1997’s Help Your Satori Mind.
By Cosmic Invention.

“Marrakech” from 1996’s Lama Rabi Rabi.
By Ghost.

“Silver Current” from 1992’s Strange Bedfellow.
By White Heaven

“Blind Promise” from 1991’s Out.
By White Heaven.