So the "big" news in NYC this week is
that the Village Voice, that sixty-plus year old free weekly newspaper,
will no longer put out a print edition. Like most publications these
days, it'll be online only.
To me, the newsworthiness of this story isn't that the Village Voice is going online only -- but that it took so long. The destruction of print publications has been happening for the better part of a decade now. Still, NYC will look a little bit different as the blue and white voice of progressive values vanishes from our streets and transfers to our "devices."
Call it a sign of the times -- or a victim thereof.
This change in the Village Voice is triggering the predictable nostalgia articles for the "good old days" by people who used to work there. As I've
mentioned before, nostalgia is all the rage these dark Trumpian days,
particularly in NYC.
To sling further items onto this nostalgia heap, it's worth remembering that this year marks the 40th anniversary of the opening of Studio 54, the hottest nightclub in history, the club that defined the disco era and the beautiful sleaze of the 1970s. It was the club everyone wanted to go to and that nobody could get into. It's the club that spawned movies and documentaries and a whole culture of chic. Predictably, the people who "remember it when" are writing about Studio 54 with affection and sadness. The most amazing thing about the Studio 54 era is how short it was -- roughly from the Spring of 1977 to early 1980 (when its owners got busted for tax evasion and went to jail). The club has become legendary -- probably because the Studio 54 era was so short lived that it never got old and lame.
But the reality is that Studio 54's reign was probably destined to be brief, no matter how tricky the tax returns of its owners were. By 1980, Ronald Reagan was marching towards the White House, the economy was stuck in stagflation, American hostages were languishing in Iran, and the original cast of "Saturday Night Live" was departing. The mood of the country was changing, the culture getting more conservative. Even by 1980, Studio 54 seemed like an embarrassing relic of an embarrasing era. Like a great show that's been on the air one too many seasons, it probably would have suffered a backlash at some point.
But once something is cancelled, once it goes away, the fond memories begin. The memories pile up -- thus, the nostalgia heap.
Ah, nostalgia. I get it. Again, I'm as nostalgic as the most nostalgic person there is. But to my brothers and sisters in the nostalgia business, I plead to you: stop it. All of these articles, all of these "memories" ultimately just lead to depression. They don't do you or your readers any good. They make us sad about the present and scared for the future, and risk giving us false feelings about a past that probably wasn't so great to begin with. "But," these nostalgia mongers might argue, "just look at the maniac in the White House -- can you blame us? Wasn't the past better?"
Maybe.
Who cares? The future is here and always will be. We're not going to make our futures better by crowing about how great the past was. NYC isn't going back -- and shouldn't. Let not us not remained trapped in a museum of memories. Let's go into the future and keep the nostalgia pile to a minimum.
To sling further items onto this nostalgia heap, it's worth remembering that this year marks the 40th anniversary of the opening of Studio 54, the hottest nightclub in history, the club that defined the disco era and the beautiful sleaze of the 1970s. It was the club everyone wanted to go to and that nobody could get into. It's the club that spawned movies and documentaries and a whole culture of chic. Predictably, the people who "remember it when" are writing about Studio 54 with affection and sadness. The most amazing thing about the Studio 54 era is how short it was -- roughly from the Spring of 1977 to early 1980 (when its owners got busted for tax evasion and went to jail). The club has become legendary -- probably because the Studio 54 era was so short lived that it never got old and lame.
But the reality is that Studio 54's reign was probably destined to be brief, no matter how tricky the tax returns of its owners were. By 1980, Ronald Reagan was marching towards the White House, the economy was stuck in stagflation, American hostages were languishing in Iran, and the original cast of "Saturday Night Live" was departing. The mood of the country was changing, the culture getting more conservative. Even by 1980, Studio 54 seemed like an embarrassing relic of an embarrasing era. Like a great show that's been on the air one too many seasons, it probably would have suffered a backlash at some point.
But once something is cancelled, once it goes away, the fond memories begin. The memories pile up -- thus, the nostalgia heap.
Ah, nostalgia. I get it. Again, I'm as nostalgic as the most nostalgic person there is. But to my brothers and sisters in the nostalgia business, I plead to you: stop it. All of these articles, all of these "memories" ultimately just lead to depression. They don't do you or your readers any good. They make us sad about the present and scared for the future, and risk giving us false feelings about a past that probably wasn't so great to begin with. "But," these nostalgia mongers might argue, "just look at the maniac in the White House -- can you blame us? Wasn't the past better?"
Maybe.
Who cares? The future is here and always will be. We're not going to make our futures better by crowing about how great the past was. NYC isn't going back -- and shouldn't. Let not us not remained trapped in a museum of memories. Let's go into the future and keep the nostalgia pile to a minimum.
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