Off the Rack: Power to Punk

Vancouver (December)

The usual suspects issue are hauled out for Vanmag's 3rd annual power list, boasting one of its best-ever covers with the Mayor and his right-hand man thrumming the "Rocky" vibe. The power listings package-something of the editorial sister to their restaurant awards issue-is becoming one of Vanmag's must-reads. This year is a little hit-and-miss. A developer is a developer: Liven it up a little! Police blotter, pursed lips photos attempt to evince, I suppose, the stony look of power. Instead, they fall flat. The centerpiece surprise this year is Jamie Maw's fiery-funny look at the power dynamics of fine dining. Essaying the unsubtle tango between chef, consumer and critic, Maw gleefully eviscerates -to use a critic cliché-the former along with the latter. Far ranging but informative, Maw explains just how foodie talk overtook this town in the 90s. Big points for the inclusion of shadow power, from the Hells Angels (who'd rate higher these days) to "quiet" billionaire Hassan Khosrowshahi.

What's missing? At least some namechecks of  brand boys such as culin-ebrity Rob Feenie, EA's Don Mattrick or Lululemon's Chip Wilson. They ain't crystalballers, but how's about labour reps (ferry strike, anyone?). Or the powers that be at the embattled VPD? Two sidebars on "real life" power and "life after power" add colour, as do the inclusion of voices for the impoverished and powerless, and for gay rights from an Anglican bishop. But Chris Haddock and BCIT's Tony Knowles? (How do we book ourselves a spot next year?) Ideas people get no play, but the usual policy wonks do. Plus, where's the fun at? The trading card motif from the '01 list--pluses, minuses, quotes, trivia and nicknames--was tops. (Dirty confession: I helped out on that package.) Instead, this year's capsule bio approach offers only second helpings of editorial glaze.

Also, hit the bricks for a block-by-block dissection of the city's drug trade; take in Q&A with a mall Santa; and uncover the Canlit connection of The New Yorker's new Vancouver-born fiction editor.

And finally, a brief look at a little-online-mag-that-could called The Tyee. Vancouvermagazine.com

Vanmag's power list packages: 2001 2002 2003

The Nerve (Dec/Jan)

Presenting the coolest scenester mag you're not reading. "Western Canada's Rock n' Roll Magazine" is a ratty-chic diary of rawk life and lifers, bursting with concert and album reviews from various camps of hardcore, punk and metal. Come for the porno film reviews, interviews and events listings; stay for scene snaps with "Flusie's Night Out" and "Band Slut." A book reviewer's praise of old skool music critic Lester Bangs could easily be the raison d'etre of this mag: "Rock n' roll means so much because it feels so fucking good." This month's holidays issue cuddles up with a festive story featuring a yuletide Hunter S. Thompson lookalike. Word is, the mag is only one slice of a burgeoning mini-media empire--the editor owns a record label and a downtown Vancouver club reopening under his imprint. Thenerveonline.com

Butter (Winter)

The way fresh-faced mag unwinds its winter issue with Bonspiel tips. Dispatches from the local art/street/fashion industrial complex abound. A cool feature asks designers about town for books "that really get them off" and comes forward with a smattering of art-school-interestin' picks. Fashion spreads find boys and girls in various stages of langorous undress. Michele Rainer scores an interview with young Salinger-wannabe JT LeRoy, a former street hustler cum novelist cum musician best known for clucking around NoLIta, creating happenings in his wake. A Winnipeg scene survey rollcalls folks like filmmaker Guy Maddin. The issue's highlight, however, is an inspired fashion spread riffing on the 1998 Danish film, The Celebration. Butter speaks provincial Hipsterese, doncha know? For example, editor Ryan Roddy namechecks "it"-types (present and past) JT LeRoy, Gus Van Sant, Chloe Sevigny and Winnipeg (Royal Art Lodge, natch)-and all in one paragraph. Mmmbutter.com

Jeff MacIntyre is regularly heckled, from dangerously near and glamorously afar, at jeffmacintyre.com