“Hot”, or not?

“I see Hot Press have only gone and put out a bloody SEX ISSUE!”

Ah, Hot Press. 30 years old this year, and more to be pitied than laughed at (or read, perhaps). Like so much else referred to on this blog as being ‘good in the old days’ (Magill, music, socialism) I have some fond memories of Hot Press. I started reading it properly in the early 1990s, and while there was quite a bit of filler in it even then, it did contain some serious, interesting and relevant articles. It mightn’t have been quite required reading, but I recall the interviews with politicians back then as being the most informative and most probing available in Ireland at the time. Writers like Bill Graham or, particularly, Liam Fay came up with some fantastic stuff – Fay in particularly had a great line in witty, but not smirky or condescending, pieces on religion in Irish life, including profiles of people like Pat Buckley, Cornelius Horan and that woman who dances in the middle of O’Connell Street (collected in Beyond Belief – pick it up if you can) .

The quality of the writing aside, though, there was something vital about Hot Press. Certainly when it was first launched, and for nearly twenty years afterwards, it was an important, progressive voice in Irish public life, pushing the so-called ‘liberal agenda’ (and more) at a time when such views were in a minority and well before the rest of the country finally (and belatedly) caught up. And, as such, it deserves some commendation.

Now, unfortunately, it’s little more than a shadow of its former self, and seems to be living off past glories. Reading the current ‘Sex Issue’ (which I picked up out of curiosity after hearing it touted continuously on ads on Newstalk), it strikes me as a rather odd, vaguely embarrassing leftover from the 1980s, which hasn’t quite realised that times have changed and everyone else has moved on (not unlike Gavin Friday, in fact).

Niall Stokes’ editorial celebrates how wonderful and life-affirming sex is. He points out how things used to be very bad in the old repressive days (before Hot Press, of course) and how sex-hating religion is and was. He then tells us that things have changed and that people are more tolerant and open, with pornography pretty accessible across the country (thus proving wrong his more extreme critics who believe he has literally been living under a rock for the last 15 years). Is pornography bad, he wonders? Maybe, but not as bad sexual repression from the bad old days. Sex rocks! Take that, THECHURCH!

To which the only sensible reaction must be a dejected shrug of the shoulders and the thought ‘Yeah, and so what?’. That kind of approach, along with the accompanying articles in the issue (including an interview with Lee Dunne, one with media sex therapist Traci Cox, a piece of ‘dating’ and some stunningly unerotic ‘erotic’ photographs) might have represented an important statement when condoms were still unavailable and homosexuality was still criminalised. Now, though, it seems to say nothing more than ‘I am 50 years old but wish I wasn’t’.

It’s the Anne Sexton phenomenon spread across an entire issue (an issue which, it must be said, is indicative of the dead-end Hot Press has driven itself down). Anne Sexton, for those lucky enough to be unaware, is Hot Press‘s resident ‘sexpert’, with her regular feature ‘Sexed Up’, where she apparently covers all aspects of sex. Rather than just being an unimaginative pun, the title is very accurate. Sexton’s articles, from what I have seen, seem to invariably revolve about how incredibly amazing she is, and how open she is about sex and even though this might be shocking to the squares it’s just no big deal to her so she’ll go on and on and on about herself to prove how open she is (and how much sex she’s had). She’s essentially Roisín Ingle with a vibrator, but without the charm.

As you can imagine, she’s a relentless narcissistic writer and her articles are probably the most unsexy pieces you will ever read. At least with Loaded or the other men’s magazines, the sex columns are deliberately prurient and juvenile. This stuff, with its affectations of importance is far more irritating, joyless and just … well … shit.

It’s a shame in a way. It would be good to see a genuinely popular magazine covering both music and culture and current affairs and politics in a readable and intelligent way. There’s also something to be said for writing about sex that doesn’t fall into the categories of ‘Phwoarr! Check out her assets’, ‘How to give oral pleasure to your Junior Cert invigilator’ or ‘I’m Anne Sexton: I have sex’. Unfortunately, for such a publication to be compelling, it would have to serve a purpose, be relevant and have a clear editorial line. And Hot Press doesn’t seem to tick any of those boxes any more.

Niall Stokes used to be the cool older brother. Now he’s just the creepy uncle.