It’s probably too soon to pass judgment on the latest editorial incarnation of the New York Press, but, after about a month, editor Adario Strange‘s paper seems to be continuing its trajectory toward becoming a kind of boilerplate alt-weekly, not unlike the papers you’d see in smaller cities and college towns. There are the requisite adolescent anti-Bloomberg riffs (the man keeps hassling us for writing graffiti!), some random coverage of outer boroughs, and even an interesting takedown of Flight 93 last week. But aside from Jim Knipfel there’s nothing in it so far that we’d go out of our way to find each week.
Truthfully, we’re still pining after the late-’90s Strausbaugh Press, which at least at times was the kind of paper you could truly love. Sure, the politics were further right than ours (that never stopped us from enjoying the Post), but, with Amy Sohn, “Taki’s Top Drawer,” Cockburn, and Caldwell, it was at least reliably different, intellectual, sometimes obscene, and a welcome antidote to the often unreadable Voice.
So, to the extent that he can bring back the kind of distinctiveness that characterized the old Press, Strange has our blessing. If he can make the muddling paper better live up to his name, we’ll be happy to pick it up more regularly.