The Source
By Jose Negroni
Circulation..........500,000
Date of Birth...........1988
Frequency..........Monthly
Price..........$3.99
Natural Habitat.........Sitting on the mixing board at The Hit Factory.
EARLIER this year, The Source, arguably
the most reputable rap magazine in
the nation, staged a war of words with
Eminem, accusing the artist of racism. On the
cover of its February 2004 issue, The Source
placed a photograph of the white rap star
Eminem gesturing with his middle finger. A
large blurb above the logo blared, “The Most
Explosive Issue Ever.”
Neither the magazine nor Eminem has ever shunned controversy. In fact, the media frenzy surrounding this latest verbal battle has kept The Source in a spotlight it obviously relishes. But is the magazine still worthy of all the talk?
The short answer is yes. One reason is its steady, rising readership. With a paid circulation of 500,000, The Source is the top-selling music magazine in the country. And its readers are composed mostly of hip-hop fans from all backgrounds and walks of life.
The story behind the magazine parallels the trajectory of the subject it covers. Rap, once considered a peculiar genre lacking a musical element, has climbed to the top of America’s music charts. In its first issue, released in 1988, the magazine had four advertisements; it now averages 107 ads per issue. In the beginning, the average ad cost $75; today an ad costs at least $32,000. Its first issue was given away free; its cover price now is $3.99.
It has been a decade since The Source wowed journalism circles with a three-part series on the effects of the crack epidemic on America’s slums, but the magazine has found lasting popularity by subtly catering to upper-class, suburban readers. The content may be celebrity-driven and shallow, but it seems to work for readers of all races.
So, why battle with Eminem? In the February issue, in an editor’s letter, Kim Osorio wrote: “Over three years ago, the July 2000 issue featured Eminem on the cover, and it was a big statement. The Source, which for over fifteen years had always represented hiphop’s diverse community, was co-signing a white rapper who we easily accepted as one of us. Since day one, hip-hop had been bridging together people of different races, and for the first time, there was a white MC (Vanilla Ice never counted) who really mattered. . . . Never once did we question him because of the color of his skin. Then we watched proudly as he skyrocketed to the top. But as part of our responsibility to hip-hop, we have, in the past year, pointed out issues that continually affect our culture, issues that cannot be ignored . . .”
Many of these issues were not revelations. The Source said some of Eminem’s lyrics were bigoted. It said some of his lyrics demeaned women. But I find these charges somewhat hypocritical, considering that The Source has no problem putting Li’l Kim on its covers in sexually alluring poses. The visual texture of the magazine is often at odds with its overall ideas about race and the music industry.
It’s even guilty of talking dirty itself. In a review of 2003’s most successful artists, it had this to say about Li’l Kim: “The self-proclaimed Playboy pin-up girl . . . nabbed two Source Awards [the magazine’s annual honors], proving to her fans that spitting rhymes is still one of her many oral skills.” And ads for The Source’s clothing company feature women as sexy nymphs. In the February issue, the most striking element in an article about Farrah Franklin, an R&B singer, is a two-page photograph of her shown half-naked.
It’s hard to overlook all this. Rap was meant to be an expression of the streets, presenting the lives of inner-city youths in rhyming detail. The Source has covered its rise and the issues surrounding it, including the racial ones that have become a significant part of the story. But it has left itself open to criticism by its exploitation of women.
I can see both sides, but I will likely keep reading. The magazine sells well because at the end of the day, it still gives readers what they want—stories about their music idols.
Change Up
Baseball writer Buster Olney tells Jose Negroni what it is like to go from the dugout to the sky box.
THERE'S a big hole in the sports pages of The New York Times. Buster Olney, who won the admiration of many readers because of his lyricism, his graceful succinctness, his electric metaphors and his precise analysis, is gone. He traded himself to the magazines, leaving behind a remarkable newspaper career. He covered minor league baseball, the San Diego Padres, the Baltimore Orioles, the New York Mets, football's New York Giants and the New York
Yankees dynasty of recent years. After seven years at The Times, Olney abandoned daily journalism in 2003 to become a magazine writer. He now turns out four columns a month for ESPN The Magazine. As he expected, he has found that magazine journalism is a different writing game, one that has offered him some calmness at a time when he needed it and has allowed him to get into a flow.
He now also appears on ESPN's cable channels and has finished a book about the Yankees' championship run of the late Nineties—"The Last Night of the Yankee Dynasty"—is scheduled for release in July. His new, less frantic schedule also allowed time for him to talk with NYRM and provide some insights into the differences between working for newspapers and magazines:
"I left The New York Times because I wasn't too happy. In the spring of 2003, Howell Raines [then executive editor] was changing the sports section to make college football a priority, and I wasn't too thrilled. So I could either leave or complain to my wife. That's when ESPN called."
"I don't think my style has changed. The magazine can bend for me—it allows me to have a certain pacing. For The New York Times the words are flashier, but you have to grind it out."
"At a newspaper, I was expected to turn in eight-hundred words, whereas in the magazine I can write in long form and submit twenty-five hundred. When you're writing a daily story, you can't always tell about how a catcher sets up, and details like that. So, the magazine definitely has more sex appeal. And you're not required to stay in the locker room making sure that no one spends more time there than you do."
"I did like the adrenaline of working for a daily newspaper—you got instant feedback. Yet after working for twenty-five years, you may get cynical. In the fifteenth and twentieth year, you start saying, 'Yeah, I know that.' So you need something that is going to challenge you."
"Before, I would wake up at 11 a.m., read, write or take a nap till 2 p.m., and then head out to the ballpark until 2 a.m. I miss it a little bit, but I have children now that I have to think about."
"My family was a huge factor when it came
time to make my decision. I couldn't spend a
hundred and fifty nights a year in hotel rooms
and consider myself a good father. Now, I
make sure I'm with my daughters from seven
to ten every night. I grew up helping out on
my dad's farm, pushing around Jersey cows,
so I know my job covering baseball is a gift.
Still, I don't want to feel like I shortchanged
my children. As a parent, I don't want to do a
rotten job of balancing my time."
