When you guys were young whippersnappers, did you ever find yourself at the Walden Books poring over the latest issues of Creem, Q, or Rolling Stone? I know I did. And while this experience hardly substituted for the more authentic virtues real relationships with other people might have fostered, it still introduced me to a writing genre that sadly seems to have gone the way of The Lemonheads, and for which I still feel just a twinge of nostalgia: Drop Cap Journalism.
In Drop Cap Journalism (DCJ), it's a rule that every article has to immediately drop the reader into the action with the great alternative pop stars of the 90's via the effective method of the decorative drop cap. And almost every article seemed to start the same stupid way.
Michael Stipe simply will not eat off a small spoon.
It should come as no surprise that Liz Phair wants to begin our interview with a discussion of blowjobs.
DCJ articles almost always featured evocative (kind of) and artsy (sort of) photography, sometimes with said decorative drop cap superimposed over it. If you got really lucky, the article would have the drop cap, the artsy photo and a lot of hyperbole about someone who at the time seemed timeless, and yet.
On this rainy night on the road in Ottawa, the world literally stops for Adrian Belew. (photo caption: "Belew boards Ottawa bus.")
And yet! And don't even get me started on Sassy. Don't even get me started.