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12 The Texas Observer Bound Volumes of the Observer Bound volumes of the 1971 issues of the Texas Observer are now ready. In maroon washable binding the same as in recent years the price is $12. Also available at $12 each year are volumes for the years 1963 through 1970. A very limited supply of bound volumes of the Observer for the years 1958 through 1962 formerly out of stock have been compiled and are offered at $50 per year. These are the years when the Observer was weekly and in a tabloid format. Texas residents please add the 5% sales tax to your remittance. Volumes will be sent postpaid. THE TEXAS OBSERVER 600 W 7 AUSTIN 78701 CLASSIFIED BOOKPLATES. Free catalog. Many beautiful designs. Special designing too. Address: BOOKPLATES, P.O. Box 28-1, Yellow Springs, Ohio 45387. MARJORIE ANNE DELAFIELD TYPING SERVICE: Complete Typing Service and Editing. Binding, Mailing, Public Notary. Twenty years experience. Call 442-7008 or 442-0170, Austin. WE SELL THE BEST SOUND. Yamaha pianos, guitars; Moeck-Ku ng-Aulu s recorders; harmonicas, kalimbas and other exotic instruments. Amster Music, 1624 Lavaca, Austin. 478-7331. THURSDAY DISCUSSION GROUP meets at noon weekly at the YMCA, 605 North Ervay in Dallas. No dues. Everyone welcome. CENTRAL TEXAS ACLU dinner meeting. El Toro, 1601 Guadalupe. 2nd Monday of each month. 7:30 p.m. All welcome. FAR OUT in the country Greenbriar School offers an alternative to public school for your child aged 5-17. Non-coercive, friendly atmosphere, open curriculum, dedicated staff. Non-boarding. 453-8939, 454-2293 in Austin. RAMSEY MUNIZ FOR GOVERNOR: Raza Unida Party campaign materials for sale. Box 271, Crystal City 78839. MAKE AMERICA HAPPEN AGAIN … McGOVFRN button serially numbered: $3, 2/$5. Other items, 3/$1. Special photo button, $1. Mobile, $2. Proceeds to campaign. McGovern Committee, PO Box 472, Vermillion, SD 57069. WITH SUCCESS came attacks, from the shrill to the wry. The New Yorker said RS was a “bastion of San Francisco countercultural ‘rock-as-art’ orthodoxy” and Billboard said it was “professional” no one was sure whether these were insults or compliments. Fusion \(which really of the people we deal with on an editorial basis profess to be profoundly disinterested in or bored by the San Francisco tabloid known as Rolling Stone.” A particularly mindless political attack that was reprinted in many underground papers complained of, among other things, “failure to educate and to articulate to its readers the political consequences of their culture.” The same sort of weary dreck, that is, that killed the underground press. Fog-brained street people mounted their soapboxes to denounce RS: for being just like Tithe, for not holding up its corner of the revolution, for being capitalistic by actually meeting its payroll, for not calling a cop a pig, for not raising the Vietcong flag, for not praising the master race of hippies that was obviously going to seize power. A RS correspondent in Texas was once physically attacked by a hysterical adolescent female who was enraged because of what she imagined to be a slighting reference to Roger Daltrey in RS. Do you know who Roger Daltrey is? Do you care? On the occasion of Rolling Stone’s fourth anniversary, Wenner’s annual letter to his readers answered some of his critics: “As long as there are printing bills to pay, writers who want to earn a living by their craft, people who pay for their groceries, want to raise children and have their own homes, Rolling Stone will be a capitalist operation.” That, along with a slam at radicals \(who are “pissed off at rock and roll because it wouldn’t do what they notion of a coherent counterculture, further infuriated those who thought the magazine was not doing what they wanted it to do. The most common complaint was that, at some vague point along the line, Wenner had “sold out” and RS had ceased being the “people’s paper.” That it had no canned political spiel was distressing to the armed-love advocates. Others found it hard to believe that all along Wenner had been building a successful corporation, rather than sacrificing himself to a hazy vision of revolution or of some kind of fuzzy, coast-to-coast commune. The Rolling Stone offices are now protected by a guard and by twin electric-locked reception doors to keep out the psycopaths who invariably converge on anything that is young and successful. Many of the criticisms of RS, however, have been valid. It is too chummy with the record industry carrying promo stories timed to the release of records by forgettable performers. It’s still humorless and tends toward the tedious. Its vision of cultural evolution is intertwined with bell bottoms and coke spoons and roach clips and stereo systems \(all of which, of rock and roll is haphazard and music that is popular is favored whether or not it is good. CONVERSELY, the magazine is virtually unmatched in what it does well, which is reportage. It is coverage with a countercultural bias: Con III in the newsroom, if you will. There is the in that field. The nearest c,ompetitors Creem, Crawdaddy!, and Fusion are all monthlies full of what passes for criticism and essays, while RS is a news paper that publishes twice a month. Rolling Stone’s final deadline can be as late as the day it comes out; the others turn their copy in to the printers two months ahead of time. Wenner says of his competiton: “The rest of these sheets aren’t worth a shit. Creem prints Rolling Stone rejects, Fusion is lame, the present Crawdaddy! is so weak it’s unreadable and the rest of them aren’t worth a comment.” Of the other magazines, only Creem, despite Wenner’s dismissal, is potentially a threat. Started three years ago in Detroit on $1200, Creem has just passed the 120,000 mark in circulation and is still growing. There is every indication that Creem is attracting the young readers who feel no kinship with RS, the young ones who don’t insist on music that is “art” and who like neo-rock-and-roll. Listen to Dave Marsh, the driving force at Creem : “I don’t give a shit about music, I wanna rock. And I never did care about the music. I always cared about what went on at the edge of the music, and mostly still do. Shit, everyone I know got involved in all of this rock and roll to get laid, centrally. I really believe that, bet you could prove it scientifically. Nobody I know is in it because music is so killer, all by itself. It ain’t… I bet Bob Dylan played rock and roll in Hibbing because that was how you got laid, and that he played folk music in the Village for the same reasons and that he went back to rock for similar reasons. To get laid.” Rolling Stone’s Roper survey shows that its average reader is 22, male, college-educated, buys 65 albums annually, and has probably consumed beer or table wine in the past month. A couth reader, that is to say. Creem hasn’t been able to afford a survey, but one would probably show that its average reader is 17, male, highschool-educated, doesn’t give a damn for music as art and consumes wine every day.