Conde Nast, in a continued effort to monopolize the monthly magazine before it hits its cyber-shocked death bed, publishes a largely disposable freebie rag bundled stealthily with subscriptions to Wired, GQ, etc, etc. Seems ol’ lucky me gets 3-5 at a pop.
And they’ve got a theme: Something Rocks.
“Rocks” is here defined mostly in relation to its opposite, which is “Sucks.” So therefore things that don’t suck, rock. You’d probably agree that being Rich, Sexy, Hip, Famous, Cool, or Hot doesn’t suck. Ergo, it Rocks!
Fashion Rocks, Celebrities Rock, Chicks Rock, Dudes Rock, Rockers Rock … and now Movies Rock. However, to my surprise they’ve dropped in two articles of depth and heft covering topics that never really rocked: Frank Sinatra’s tunesmith Jimmy Van Huesen and a the origins of Saturday Night Fever. Although rock (in some form or another) wasn’t too distant from either era, the concept of Rocking (as a verb, a lifestyle, a raison d’être) was. Not that these men didn’t rock, but let’s not judge the past through the narrow lens of the present.
