Why Australian GQ sucks (and what it can do to fix itself - Part 1)

My favourite magazine on this planet you humans call Earth is GQ. British GQ. The writing is top notch, bringing in the UK’s best columnists, novelists, satirists and stylists and culminating each month in a snap shot of lifestyle that is accessible, aspirational and a fun bit of escapism.

Then there’s the Australian version of GQ. This is an entirely different beast. It is so unrecognisable from its English counterpart as to be a completely different publication, one of dubious origin and so sub-par I can only hope the name was stolen well in advance of antipodean plans hatched in the UK/US Conde Nast offices...alas I’m probably wrong.

One issue I remember going through with a red pen, highlighting each typo, each page layout that didn’t sit quite right. I got bored a third of the way through, scowling down at pages covered in red pen. Not being one to take a dump on someone else’s effort without offering up some advice, over the next few days I am going to offer up five ways Australian GQ can improve itself, and make me buy it again.

We’ll do the first one now, which is...

The Editor

The aesthetic and spirit of the publication begins and ends with the editor. In the British corner we have Dylan Jones, bless. Dylan is self-deprecating, articulate, passionate about more than his wardrobe and the next party he’s throwing, a published author, the kind of guy who is as comfortable getting a pint as a pinot. Or at least gives that impression – and therein lies the trick.

His Australian counter-part is Grant Pearce, oh dear. Twatty McTwat. I don’t get a sense of the editor’s personality in Australian GQ, unless the editor is in fact bland, shallow and all dollars no sense. Grant is actually Group Executive Editor at News Magazines, overseeing several titles including Australian Vogue. So, he’s clearly smart and hard working, where do we get let down?

The impression I get is he’s delivering a magazine he thinks other people would like to read, not really being interested in it himself - or simply too busy to give it its due. Dylan lives and breathes his offering, and marks every page with his stamp. Grant’s effort on the other hand seems to do its best not to offend, and in the end that means nothing really grabs you. I don’t feel anyone’s personality when I see Australian GQ, assuming that is that it isn’t put together by senior partners at Ernst & Young. Apologies to my friends who work at EY, obviously I mean other people.

So, first off, Grant, let's see some personality. I don't want editorials that sound like they should be in GQ, I want a magazine with its own sense of style and purpose. Show me some life, show me a sense of humour, show me a magazine that is more than the sum of its freshly-pressed, Bollinger-swilling parts. The same way you spit out the virtues of Vogue in this month's Marketing Magazine, you should be the one driving GQ to its proper place.

By all means though, keep swilling the Bollinger. There's got to be some perk to being GQ after all...

In the next installment: the writers.

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Update: I wanted to link all five posts together for easy reference, so here they are.

1. The Editor (you are here)
   


2. The Writers


3. The Art Direction


4. Audience & Competitors


5. Online

8 for '08 - Random Bio

So I got tagged in a meme that circulated the web back at the beginning of the year. It of course went completely over my head and I didn't realise I'd been tagged, even as I watched it pass from site to site thinking "Hey that looks like fun!". Chris Wilson over at Fresh Peel is the culprit, he and I got talking on LinkedIn one day, amazing how these things start. Chris, thanks for the tip!

Without further ado, the much-belated eight facts about me that weren't common knowledge:

1. The first game I produced was an ice skating game called Barbie's Sparkling Ice Show. Obvious drug/bling references aside, it did quite well, and was a great lesson in brand management and dealing with third-party IP.

2. I grew up in Hong Kong before a short stint in the US rendered my well-spoken Queen's English accent marred with rolled Rs and "mom" replaced "mum". It's much softer these days, though I still don't sound remotely Australian.

3. Basketball was the only sport I was ever any good at, but I was quite good at that. I once single-handedly scored more points on my own than the opposing team did in the entire game. It would end at that if there was a legend to be made; sadly the other team only managed 13 points, so a Herculean-effort it was not.

4. My first guitar teacher refused to teach me on account of being left-handed. I subsequently stopped learning guitar with him...

5. The first song I ever performed live was The Doors' Roadhouse Blues. I bought a harmonica the day before to play the solo in it. That was 13 years ago, I am a marginally better harmonica player than I was that day (suffice to say I'm crap).

6. My first girlfriend's name was Clare Darby. To the best of my knowledge I cannot remember holding hands or even speaking to her one on one. We were five of course, so I think a little slack can be cut. Funnily enough I never went through a stage where I was bothered by girl germs, though girls seem to remain bothered by mine. Hello to Clare if she is playing at home.

7. In Hong Kong all the grass had signs saying "Please keep off". To this day I have never been camping and have absolutely no desire to. I'm as big a tree hugger as the next guy (unless the next guy is one of the ones that boarded the Japanese whaling ship, in which case I look like a carbon-positive, nature-hating, tree-felling, seal-clubbing, ice-cap-melting capitalist), but to quote Minnie Driver in Grosse Point Blank, I say leave your live stock alone.

8. British GQ is my favourite magazine on the planet. I wish it was something like The Economist, but it isn't. I love fashion even if I can afford none of it, the writers it has are extraordinary, the whole thing is endlessly entertaining. Unlike Australian GQ, which is fucking awful. If you're reading Grant, call me - 0404078686, I can save your terrible, terrible magazine.

So, I now have to tag 8 others in this wee game. I am keeping it very close to home and hitting up Stuart McPhee (the best music writer I know), Scott Drummond (the most insightful person I know), Alysha Sandow (the best dressed person I know, she's a pretty good graphic designer too!), Simon Chen (he's at the Web 2.0 conference right now, so won't reply; odds are he wouldn't anyway), Andrew Cafourek (smart and unafraid of getting his hands dirty in addition to being an incredibly nice guy), Iain Tait (who no doubt got tagged several times with this while he was in India), Laurel Papworth (I've only had limited interaction with Laurel but I like the cut of her jib...whatever that means *Update* Laurel has already done this, hers can be found here) and Skelliewag who I don't know at all but I really like what he does, and so he deserves more of your time and attention (because I say so).