I agree with this lament. I stopped reading it a decade ago (I was a charter subscriber, and was impressed with its Tupac coverage), but its death is symbolic of the lost opportunities of the hiphop generation—particularly today’s wannabe moguls and artists and, especially, the current crop of freelance journalists and Black nonfiction writers who wanted to be more than college professors by day and after-hours blog scribblers by night. I’m particularly sad about the lost potential the corporate publication never wanted to fulfill—being a political, social and economic voice for young Black and Brown people the way, at its best, the corporate (but singularly owned) Rolling Stone is for its young, pale audience. (I have great respect for Quincy Jones, but I doubt his would-be revived Vibe website will do anything but provide four or five journalists a chance to write about music. Not even near the same thing.) It almost got there—well, at least it was on the way—with Tupac. Like the long-ago lost artist and now-lost periodical, I’m showing my age here and feeling, yes, a little lost by the loss.