The paper you hold in your hands is a paper you hold in your hands for a reason. I've stated a determination to produce an online edition of The Syncopated Times which I would make available to subscribers (particularly overseas readers who pay an exorbitant amount to receive it by mail), but I am equally determined to publish a print edition far into the future. In fact, when a friend suggested it would be a blessing when I finally abandoned ink and wood cellulose, I replied that I would continue to print on dead trees if I had to chop them down myself.
The Syncopated Times is not a scholarly journal. It's published primarily for the pleasure of its readers while conveying essential information regarding the world of jazz. To be pleasurable, its elements are arranged to present a pleasing view on the printed page. It's not a delivery device for YouTube videos nor for ads that you must scroll past to arrive at the next paragraph. It does not beep and wink at you.
I heartily approve of blogs, and I've given away acres of free content in my relatively short career online. But the graphics and columns of print on a newspaper page are stuck fast, and were placed so for a reason. It's an immutable, physical document—at least until it winds up under the parakeet.
Everything is ephemeral. I could back up every scrap of my digital content on the requisite hard drives, and there is
