Paste was too good to be true. Except that it was true.

Passion blazed in every issue.

If you needed signs of life in music, film, and culture, you didn’t need to do anything but hold a copy of Paste in your hands.

The writing was filled with heart, smarts, wit, character, and love

It looked great.

Every other arts magazine going paled by comparison. (I would make one exception – No Depression – but they disappeared a while ago, they focused on a much narrower slice of art and culture, and they never provided the aesthetic thrills of Paste.)

They were more Rolling Stone than Rolling Stone.

They weren’t afraid to let writers explore the spiritual aspects of music.

They knew good music.

And I will miss them.

Thanks, Josh Jackson, Nick Purdy, and the gang. If anybody in the business knows what they’re doing, they’ll hire you and give you all kinds of resources and freedom.

You know… I’m even going to forgive you all for publishing that Coldplay review.

With love and admiration,

Jeffrey Overstreet

(Here’s the story from The AV Club.)