FINAL SIX: THE BEST/WORST THINGS ABOUT LEAVING THE ‘REVOLVER’ OFFICE

As I mentioned in my first Final Six, when I started working here in September of ’08, being a writer/editor for Revolver has always been a dream job of mine. Other magazines read way too smart, ironic, scene, meatheaded, or elitist for me; Revolver was the magazine I could read without feeling patronized. Working here has taught me a lot of things about “The World’s Loudest Rock Magazine,” and about journalism in general. Dealing with musicians, juggling money, closing issues, coding websites—these are all things I knew zilch about before showing up, nervous, to this office in a Morbid Angel shirt and feeling my heart explode upon hearing the phrase, “So, when can you start?”

Unfortunately, my tenure as Revolver’s editorial intern has come to an end. I’m a writer—a novelist, to be precise—and I need to spend the summer working on my new books. It’s a mix of relief and heartbreak: I get freedom to write about only my own thoughts for a while, but to do so, I have to ditch the job, or some variation of it, that I’ve wanted since I picked up my first issue of my favorite metal magazine. So, while I’ll still be writing Final Six for you all right here, here is my Six Best and Worst Things About Leaving the Revolver office. Keep reading, true believers.

The Six Best Things About Leaving the Revolver office

1) Vampire schedule A lot of good writing occurs during daylight hours, but my best writing occurs between 9 at night and 6 in the morning. I don’t have to be anywhere the next day—time to shun the sun.

2) None but my own I don’t have to write about bands I personally don’t give a shit about anymore! Huzzah! Eat the fat veiny one, Avenged Sevenfold!

3) Dress code I’ve never had to wear any "office outfit" to work—it’s always jeans and a metal T-shirt. But honestly, when I’m writing, even that’s a little much. Without having to come into the office, I can go pants-less until the pizza get here!

4) That $crilla, son Look, Revolver pays, and they’ve been good about giving me money when I would’ve done the work for free. However, I hope my own writing will get me some dollar bills with which I can mack in style.

5) No more tears Being a journalist is fucking thankless and is dependent on stress, unhealthy food, and booze. Now, I can sit down, write, and not have to worry about shipping by whenever. It’s my pace now.

6) No more getting sexually harassed by Editor In Chief Tom Beaujour He just sits there, watching, licking his lips, watching, mumbling, watching. It’s disturbing, and it’s un-American.

The Six Worst Things About Leaving the Revolver office

1) Interview silence It’s been really fun talking to folks like Brutal Truth’s Rich Hoak, Six Feet Under’s Chris Barnes, Static-X’s Wayne Static, and Darkane's Christofer Malmström. Now, I’ll be lucky if I get to talk to myself.

2) Out of the loop Part of the cool thing about writing for a magazine is knowing you’re on the inside—you’ve heard the album, seen the photos, and watched the video—long before anyone else. Now, I’m a fan again.

3) Less than impressive What’s worse than being an intern at Revolver? Being an ex-intern at Revolver. Before, I could pull that press-pass shit, and now, I can only remember. Le sigh.

4) Nothing happening I like to think about how great all this free time is gonna be, but honestly, who am I fucking kidding—I’m gonna find myself bored to shit, wishing I was interviewing Spineshank.

5) Good people Not that you’ll care, but the people writing, editing, and creating Revolver are awesome, and are fighting the good fight. You can badmouth the press all you want, but at the end of the day these guys are busting their asses to bring you what you need to know about the music you’d die for, because we’re kids, fans, disciples, and humans just like you. No matter how many books I write or rewards I reap, I’ll never forget Tom, Brandon, Kory, Josh, Rebecca, and everyone else here who gave me the opportunity to be a part of something I’ve always admired and felt kinship with. These people are the shit, and for a while, I got to be one of them. Hail.

6) No longer able to stare longingly at Photography Director Jimmy Hubbard’s hair Oh, my God, it’s a cascade of chestnut glory! What shampoo do you think he uses?


by unemployed alcoholic Chris Krovatin