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Paperboy 30

AucklandJune 22, 2017

Here are the first 30 Paperboy covers – notice what’s missing?

Paperboy 30

Paperboy launched late last year as a stylish free weekly magazine by and for Auckland. We at The Spinoff noticed what they were doing with their covers, and not doing – all 30 of them run below – and asked editor Jeremy Hansen to write about what he looks for in a cover.

We’ve just produced our 30th issue of Paperboy – a good time to look back over what we’ve made so far, to see if we’re doing what we’d hoped to when we started this little mag.

Our first cover – a photograph of the arrow at Best Ugly Bagels at City Works Depot, just outside our office – was a bit of a sidestep. The other images we mocked up for our debut buckled under the pressure of having to represent everything the magazine was about, so we decided this image (photographed by Spid) was a more straightforward way to invite people to just look inside instead.

When we were planning the magazine we talked a lot about what we called “the new Auckland” – this sense that the city was growing up and becoming really interesting, and that a whole lot of people were proud of the place in a way they hadn’t been before.

We wanted our covers to celebrate that sense of optimism. I should add that we’ve always seen “the city” as being all of Auckland – north, south, east and west – not just downtown and a couple of suburbs where people might think the action is. So we choose our subjects and our covers with that in mind. We also see the city’s diversity as an incredibly positive thing, so we want our covers to reflect that, too.

Paperboy tends to look on the bright side, but not stupidly so. We know Auckland still has problems and we’d be foolish to ignore them, so we’ve tried to find people with good ideas about how to tackle them. We did an issue on homelessness that included an interview with Sam Tsemberis, a visiting expert in rehousing homeless people, for example. And we were proud to feature Ngāti Whātua Ōrākei’s Kāinga Tuatahi housing development, an independent approach to alleviating the city’s ongoing housing woes.

As we work on issue 31 and those that will follow it, we’re trying to keep things a bit loose. We don’t want to become predictable on the cover or inside the mag, because then we risk boring our readers and ourselves. We’ve featured a few famous people on our cover (Frankie Adams, Roger Tuivasa Scheck), but we like regular humans even more. We’ve also played with illustrations, urban scenes, vintage images and a bunch of other stuff. We’ll certainly produce a few duds – some people would argue we already have – but we’re happy to risk that. Most of all, we’re enjoying the chance to tell as many of this city’s stories as we can.

Jeremy Hansen
Editor, Paperboy

Below are the first 30 Paperboy covers. See if you can spot the missing demographic…

Keep going!
Don Jose and Carmen

AucklandJune 22, 2017

A daytime soap set to glorious music: in praise of the ridiculous, sublime Carmen

Don Jose and Carmen

Opera – especially an opera like Carmen – is the world turned upside down: being good makes you miserable and being in love is a sure portent of doom. And it’s fabulous, says Simon Wilson.

The best way to listen to opera is when you don’t know the language. I probably should confess I am not an expert, as may be clear from what follows, but anyway, that’s what I think. You just let the beauty wash through you like a karakia when you don’t have te reo, or a Gregorian chant when you’re not called Gregory. Tibetan throat singing when you’re not a yak. The alien is seductive, that’s the lesson here. The Catholic church knew it when they made everyone do their prayers in Latin and the synagogue and mosque know it today. Actually, clever pop singers know it too: nothing so catchy as a misheard lyric.

It’s not just that the romantic allure of operatic arias is enhanced when the lyrics are in Italian or some other obscure European language. Not knowing the words also helps because, sadly, when you do know them there’s a terrible risk the whole thing will turn to rubbish. It is a mystery beyond comprehension that the composers of all that sublime music have chosen – yes, actually it sought out and insisted on it – to dress their melodic genius in turgid, shallow and just plain dumb doggerel. The music is so beautiful, it melts you from the inside; but you glance up at the surtitles and it’s like Jono and Ben have got hold of the scroll and they’re fucking with you.

Don Jose (Tom Randle) and Carmen (Nino Surguladze) in NZ Opera’s Carmen. Photo: Marty Melville

I do love a good opera. Not for the libretto, obviously. And not, often, for the stagecraft either. Opera choruses are seldom convincing.

Is it for the story? A young man meets a poor young woman and falls in love with her, but she dies. Or, a disabled man is cruelly bullied and then tricked into killing his own daughter. Or, a princess is beset by suitors but her father keeps cutting off their heads, until one day a man turns up and triumphs through the purity of his love for this woman, although he does not know her, and his slave, who loves him, dies instead. Or, a soldier is seduced by a feisty gypsy so he abandons his true love and the army, but the gypsy is in love with a bullfighter so the soldier kills her.

The stories of opera get a bad rap. The suspension of disbelief is too big an ask; and there are just so many killings, suicides and madness, every one of them demanded by something called “honour”. It’s archaic but that barely prevents it from being obnoxious.

And yet, those stories. They’re daytime soaps set to glorious music, and the alchemy they perform is that the music turns them profound. The ridiculous becomes sublime. That’s quite an amazing trick, and it works because a great love story is just that, a great love story, and longing and loss are longing and loss, and no one does that stuff better than a lovelorn soprano, or tenor, or both together. Honestly, you can weep with the joy of hearing it.

Carmen (Nino Surguladze) and chorus members in NZ Opera’s Carmen. Photo: Marty Melville

Opera – most but not all opera – is the world turned upside down: being good makes you miserable and being in love is a sure portent of doom. It’s fabulous.

What you don’t want is a dutiful production, because when that happens the stupidities of the story blind you to the rest. What you do want is opera that shakes it all up, that finds some inventive sparkling way of convincing you it’s about you, and fills you to bursting with the music. If the story is preposterous, let it revel in that. If it contains the one true kernel – love is worth the loss, always – let it fling itself at you with that appalling, exhilarating, stupid truth. If it has something to say to the modern world, let it say it. If it has surtitles, which it will, you’ll glance at them more than you should, each time reminding yourself to just not do it. Tip: read the synopsis first. Then, you know, just open your heart.

Escamillo (James Clayton) and entourage in NZ Opera’s Carmen. Photo: Marty Melville

And so to Carmen, the NZ Opera production of which opens tonight. It’s the one with the gypsy, the dumbass soldier and the toreador, and it’s thrilling. True, some of the music is a little, well, this is the ta-ra-ra-boom-dee-yay opera so you’ve heard that bit even if you haven’t. But the rest of it is glorious, and if they’re any good they’ll make that bit glorious too. This is, by all accounts, a shake-it-all-up production, which is great. Fighting, sex, death, olé. It’ll be even better if you don’t know French. (Yes, I know, it’s a Spanish story but it’s in French. Just enjoy.)

Carmen: NZ Opera at the Aotea Centre, June 22-July 1.

simon@thespinoff.co.nz


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