Inadvisable as it may seem in these tough trading times to heed ancient wisdoms unchallenged, there’s at least one hand-me-down that still appears to be worth the metaphorical tablets of stone it was chiselled on.
I’m thinking of the three golden rules of cover image as practised to the letter by Ignite and, for all I know, several other editorial departments.
Simply, this dictum states that, in order for a front cover to work most effectively, the cover image must be of:
1. The right subject
2. The right image of said subject
3. And that the right image of the right subject should be published at the right time.
The saying goes that three out of three – right subject, right pic, right time - you’re on a winner; two out of three, you’re on reasonably safe ground, one out of three you’re barking up the wrong tree and zero out of three, you should probably be sacked.
Now most editors have a pretty good grasp of the popularity with the readers of their subjects and most, unless they’re chasing an exclusive so breathlessly that they go too early or have been so thoroughly gazumped that they go too late, have a pretty clear idea of the optimum occasion to publish.
The right cover image, though, is a very real problem.
Now some subscribe to the idea that the image is all and the story, if need be, can go to hell. We’ll call this the “magazine” approach. Others maintain that in order for the cover to deliver maximum impact, the image must in some way illustrate the tenor of the story. We’ll call this the “news” approach.
Now of course, there are occasions when God’s in his heaven and all’s well with the world and the picture editor will come up trumps with a “magazine” image that perfectly satisfies the “news” angle. But let’s be honest, this is a rarity.
So the editor is left with a tough choice. Either you go for what we’ll call the “disconnect” and feature your subject at their shining, publicity-polished “magazine” best, willfully ignoring the fact that the cover lines say he or she is wracked with their own black plague and surely soon doomed to oblivion. Like this:
Or else you go for the picture to deliver your story - the “news” approach - and hope that your reader won’t just go “ugh!” and purchase something else. Or, worse, think your magazine is a writhing mass of mean-spirited vitriol out to get their poor favourite celeb and vow never to buy you again.
Here’s an example of the “news” approach:
You pays yer money, you takes yer choice.
The problem becomes even more complex when the cover isn’t being driven by any really emotional news dynamic; when the factor in question is less down to schadenfreude than the pitiless ravages of Old Father Time.
Take the situation that constantly bedevils the mature music sector. The journalists work hard to secure exclusives with readers’ heroes who, let’s face it, have generally seen better days musically, sartorially and physically. So when the all-important exclusive is secured, a visual short cut to telling the greying music fan that what they’re about to buy is not the same old stuff warmed over (fatigue with over-familiar stories is rife in this market) is to publish a shot from a new photo session on the cover.
Trouble is, this is not what the rock fan wants his heroes to actually look like. No-one wants Led Zeppelin to look like this:
How do I know? Because this recent Uncut cover featured a Led Zeppelin exclusive when the band were the most-talked-about rock entity on the planet (right subject). They had just reformed to play the O2 and the cover lines promised to reveal what they planned to do next (right time).
Surely this was a winning combination. Not so. A fair few less readers bought the issue than anticipated and in recent research they told us why. The boys looked: “Too old. Too ugly.”
Even though every single reader knew that this is what the Zep guys look like now and understood that a new pic indicated the exciting prospect of a new interview, they said to a man that they would have preferred the “disconnect” of an old, heroic godlike shot aligned to the new story.
But when asked if they would believe the words EXCLUSIVE NEW INTERVIEW in 100 point plastered all over an ancient shot of Zep at their horny best, they to a man said, “No!”
“Doh!” And again I say “Doh!”
Just to check, we then showed them this recent cover of another issue that sold underwhelmingly, featuring new interviews with Mick Jagger and Keef Richards of The Rolling Stones. They hated that too. Why? “Too old. Too ugly…”
Now Uncut has, in the past, resorted to the “disconnect” but in truth it didn’t work either. We once did this with a new Van Morrison interview:
Solely because we didn’t want the issue to look like this:
C’mon, you can’t really blame us for not wanting to be risk being shelved in the newsagents next to Farmer’s Weekly by mistake!
And it’s not just Uncut who feel obliged to employ the “disconnect”, even though everyone knows that to do so invites total anarchy and confusion in the minds of the reader.
The latest Mojo, for instance, has gotten itself all hot under the collar about securing an exclusive interview with the new line-up of Queen which is basically the old line-up minus dear dead old Fred, who is replaced by the rather worse-for-wear-looking Paul Rodgers, a grizzled old geezer who used to sing in a band called Free, famous for a song called All Right Now which was used in an advert for Wrigleys Chewing Gum. Or something.
Anyway, here’s the cover:
See how it claims to bring us the skinny of Queen Mark II and yet lacks the balls to back it up? Instead they’ve whacked on the cover an entirely irrelevant picture of the classic Queen line-up featuring Fred – a sleight of hand which is somewhat mollified by the addition of an article about the classic Queen hastily bolted onto the new interview inside.
Now, I don’t know the answer to this one. Personally, every fibre in my being screams: “Go news! Go with the truth!” But the readers obviously can’t handle the harsh reality because… well, is it too crass to say it reminds them of their own mortality?
I mean, if gods go bald, paunchy, toothless and wrinkle, what hope for us mere mortals?