RIP Steven Wells

Steven Wells: 1960-2009

Journalism has lost a hugely entertaining voice. Straight-talking music journalist and columnist Steven Wells has lost his battle with cancer.

Wells, a punk poet in the 1970's and an NME writer in the 1980's who branched out into screenwriting in the 1990's on great satirical shows like The Day Today, never beat about the bush, often swearing his head off and bashing the caps loack to bits for good measure, by all accounts.

His style split readers. It was uncompromising and deliberately antagonising and many found it offensive, missing a lot of the humour he soaked it in.

If you haven't ever read any of his articles, do so. His recent ones for the Philadelphia Weekly, which he started in 2006, were typically aggrevating, humorous but most importantly, often right. Recent highlights included rants on the lunacy of anti-gay marriage supporters and right-wing mentalists in the US as well as the trials and tribulations of his ultimately fatal wrestle with lymphatic cancer and a pop at Glenn Beck.

His moving final column can be found here along with some heartfelt tributes.

He also wrote some cracking stuff for The Grauniad, and FourFourTwo, among others like The Quietus.com.

Journalism is a poorer place without him.

Conor McNicholas: Off to fill the position of editor at the BBC's Top Gear Magazine

In other NME related news, it's been a turbulent week for the ailing publication. Editor Conor McNicholas resigned yesterday, a man who has been widely accused of turning it from a much respected music fans' bible to a trend concerned, hype-machine style picture book for cunts who shop in Topman and whose musical experience extends as far as the arse-end of Brit-pop.

What does this mean for the magazine and its website now? Hopefully a restoration project. A massive change in approach is needed. Out with the indie-schmindie psuedo genres they try and invent on an almost monthly basis, out with the awful bands regurjitating all the bad parts of good music from the last 40 year that they praise for inexplicable reasons (Glasvegas, The Horrors, The Kooks, The Klaxons... anyone?) in with writers who know their stuff, have an ear for a good tune and value musicianship and ethos above trousers, scarves and pointy fucking shoes.

Get John Doran in.