Spin.

I’ve never written a love letter to a magazine, so I’m really sure how this is going to turn out. It could be brilliant (like few things I do) or disassemble into a ugly mess of crying and unreciprocated feelings (like most letters that I write).

Whatever I say is irrelevant. This isn’t about me, this is about something else. Something that’s beautiful in it’s own special way. Something that I feel deserves to be talked about.

Since, I’ve now noticed, that I actually stated that I’m writing about a magazine in the first sentence, I’m going to stop trying to be mysterious and just come out with it.

Spin Magazine, I love you. I think you’re awesome, and if I had the time to stick around for breakfast then I totally would. It’s just that I have heaps to do today, I feel really bad though, sorry babes.

Sure, you’re never going to be one of my top tier magazines. Your focus on bands I don’t care about is unparalleled, and you kind of bagged out America and Sister Golden Hair in an article. But I love you. I love how every time I open up the editorial and get the slightest urge to punch the picture of the editor in the bottom right hand corner. I love how you have the balls to cast aside the good but unremarkable Neon Bible for album of the year honours, instead giving it to the slightly less unremarkable New Wave. . I even love the fact that you gave Chris Walla’s CD two stars (I thought it was a solid three)

Your un-geeky and hipster-enough-to-be-cool content means that you’re an acceptable public transport orientated reading material, making me look like slightly less of a loser. Which I admit is odd, as few users of public transport have to worry about such a thing.

I’ll admit, I’ve only been in love with you for about a year. It was the issue where you had Rilo Kiley on the cover. I bought it because:

a) Jenny Lewis

b) The fact I like Fleetwood Mac, and you mentioned Fleetwood Mac on the cover.

c) The fact that I’d like to hear someone that sounds like Fleetwood Mac make some good music (ohhhh!)

d) Jenny Lewis

Before then I had no-one. Now, I still have no-one, but now I have 20 snarky Pop Culture comments each month to keep me company.

Yes, you’re wonderful, but do you know what makes me love you more than any other reason your carefully edited pages could snarkily infer? It’s because you don’t pull bullshit like this.

Okay, first of all, from what I’ve seen on other forms of media: No (You heard me), Shit Yes, Yes, Fuck Yes.

Now, seriously, what the fuck?

I’m not going to get all ‘Music magazine, reputable source, shameless cash in’ because it’s Rolling Stone, and that ship sailed from the dock that Rolling Stone was whoring itself a long time ago. I just wonder what the editorial team was thinking. I mean, really? Really?

I can’t imagine how proud Death Cab are. Four Stars in a magazine that thinks that Ben Gibbard’s pining is as important showing a side view of Heidi Montag’s ass.

Disclamer: Funnily enough, I haven’t read the article, but even if it’s the most facetious fuck you to The Hills and the associated culture, they still put vapid ass girl in Panties on the cover. The damage is done.