I remember why I stopped reading Rolling Stone.
I recently picked up one of the 33 1/3 books -- they're a series of books that explore various "important" albums. The one I got was on Doolittle by The Pixies. It's a tiny tome with one half being a mini "story of The Pixies" and the second being a break down of each song on Doolittle.
The Rolling Stone connection comes in the interpretation of lyrics. Both the author of The Pixies' Doolittle, Ben Sisario, and too many writers for the staid rock rag feel an obligation to pick apart lyrics and provide meaning where none may exist -- or where a completely different meaning my lay.
I can't tell you how many songs were ruined for me by reading Rolling Stone and having their cockamamie interpretations pop into my head upon each listening of a tune. And now, after reading Sisario's bloody book, I have to fend off his lamewad need to explain every line that Frank Black penned for Doolittle. There is a place in hell for those people who feel the need to interpret lyrics.