What are we trying to do here? It seems ridiculous to even talk about a print magazine redesign in 2024. What kind of half-mad maniacs would embark on such a strange and labor-intensive endeavor? What would be the point with tens of millions of stories, videos, songs, and various other distractions competing for your attention each day? But that’s precisely why we think it’s so vital to deliver our award-winning journalism, photography, and design not just online, but in a form that encourages everyone to slow down a little, turn some beautifully crafted pages, and just take everything in at your own pace.
The magazine got its name from the Muddy Waters song “Rollin’ Stone,” itself inspired by the saying “A rolling stone gathers no moss.” This is as true now as it was in 1967, when Rolling Stone was founded on the idea that the Beatles should be covered by the press as seriously as Richard Nixon. Both were important forces in the world, with one important distinction — a love of music can set you free. Ever since, music and politics have been intertwined in Rolling Stone’s’ DNA.
Rolling Stone has always embraced change. To open up the redesign process, Creative Director Joe Hutchinson worked with the design studio Food to reimagine what a print magazine can be each month. With the help of C-LL-CT-V-LY designer Mark Leeds and type designer Christian Schwartz, they crafted exclusive fonts for Rolling Stone and helped the design team reshape everything inside our book. As you flip through its pages, you’ll see we’re packing in more stories, adding more franchises (and bringing back some classics), emphasizing our criticism, expanding long-form features, and going deeper on just about everything. We’ve also changed our paper stock, giving a grittier feel to a magazine that has always told stories from the edge.
The goal was “to capture that enthusiasm, exuberance, and the depth of knowledge that exists in Rolling Stone,” Leeds says. “Everything’s a bit larger, a little bit louder, a bit more energetic.”
You’ll soon see the new design reflected on our website, social channels, video, and all other Rolling Stone platforms. “I have redesigned Rolling Stone at least four times now and this is my absolute favorite,” Hutchinson, who has worked at Rolling Stone for nearly two decades, says. “Collaborating with Food and C-LL-CT-V-LY on this redesign was amazing. We took inspiration from past eras of the magazine and yet the design feels totally fresh and modern. It reminds us of why we love Rolling Stone, showcasing fantastic writing with photography that delights, illustrations that entice, and packaged in a bold presentation that entertains.”
This double issue is proof that the original mission remains crucial as ever: A profile of Shakira moves into the Rolling Stone Interview with Vice President Kamala Harris, which is followed by a six-month investigation into Diddy’s history of violence and more than nine months of reporting on the teen opioid crisis on Snapchat. Spend some time with the stars of the WNBA, hang with the cast and creators of The Boys or take a dive into the crazy world of rock memorabilia. There’s so much deep reporting, exceptional writing, and stunning photography, as well as a brand-new look from our design team. Go find a copy, give it a read, sit with it or pass it around, and enjoy.
Donald Trump and FIFA President Gianni Infantino stand as Spain celebrates its World Cup victory, on July 19, 2026.
America Got the World Cup It Deserves — Good and Bad
For the past six weeks or so I’ve been having a recurring fight with my friends. The dispute is over whether or not it’s ethical to support the U.S. national team in the World Cup.
To the vast majority of people reading this article, this is an absurd question: of course you can and should support the United States Men’s National Team, you weirdo. And look, I’m with you. But despite the fact that my friends are pompous dorks who are no fun to watch the game with, the question they raise is valid: Are our national teams avatars of the administration in power, or of the people and promise of that country?
If you believe the former, then yeah, it’s pretty fucking weird to support the USMNT. In doing so, by that thinking, you’d be engaging in a sort of athletic nationalism on behalf of a country run by Donald Trump, the most corrupt president in history, who forced the Iranian national team to flee across the border immediately after the final whistle of each of their games, whose federal police have shot numerous civilians dead in the street during a brutal immigration crackdown, who has started a war and supported a genocide while covering up his close personal friendship with the most notorious pedophile in modern history.
I mean just look at him. On Sunday he waddled down onto the field to present Spain with their trophy, lingering on stage with the victorious team as they tried to celebrate. The presence of Mexican President Claudia Steinbaum and Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney did little to dilute the image of Trump standing next to his crony Gianni Infantino, grinning at all the trappings of their power, hands caressing a trophy they’d done nothing to earn, lingering well past his cue to leave Spain to their glory. This World Cup, literally, had Donald Trump’s fingerprints all over it.
And yet, this was one of the most thrilling, beautiful World Cups in recent memory. That’s America, baby — contradictions abound.
Over the past five weeks of the greatest athletic competition on Earth, we’ve seen games that will literally never leave my memory. The final, which I attended yesterday in New Jersey, was remarkably forgettable — a 0-0 draw until the 106th minute, with Spain dominating every second of play and yet unable to score, undone time and time again by their insistence on tricksy passing and the personal heroics of Argentina’s goalkeeper Emi Martinez. The rest of the tournament, however, delivered. Cabo Verde, refusing to lose until the very last moments of the first knockout round, battling back again and again against both teams that would eventually play in the final. The sheer dominance of France’s Kylian Mbappe in front of goal, scoring at will, rivaled only by the aging GOAT Leo Messi and the Norwegian warlord Erling Haaland. England’s heroic stand at the Estadio Azteca in Mexico City, 45 minutes in the rain, a man down, holding out for the win and singing “Wonderwall” with what felt like half the stadium when it ended. Off the pitch, too: the Algerian national team being welcomed with open arms by Lawrence, Kansas; Scottish braves drinking Boston dry and partying wildly with Haitian fans that overcame so much just to be at the tournament. In Mexico, of course, the World Cup was everything, and its fans threw joyous South Koreans pumped full of tequila into the air, and celebrated in the streets with opposing fans even after their hard-fought defeat to England.
For the United States, what the 2026 World Cup was — what our team was, what our fans were, what our performance as hosts was — is a reflection of two things at once: what our nation is and what it can be.
Our star striker, Folarin Balogun, was born here by accident, a citizen only because of a birthright system that our president is currently trying to erase. We have Ricardo and Giovanni and Freeman and Zendejas. We have another striker whose name is Haji, for goodness sake. I look at that team and I see the country America can be, one in which any soul born in or living within our arbitrary borders can become part of a great national project that seeks to improve the lives of everyone it can. And yet, I can also look at that team and see a reflection of what the country is, because there is an anchor around its neck. When Balogun was — albeit unjustly — suspended for a crucial match, Trump himself stepped in. Cronyism saved the day and got Balogun reinstated, but ruined the fragile harmony the team had enjoyed. On the pitch against Belgium, they came apart. Temperamental star Christian Pulisic tried to go alone and then quit, aging defender Tim Ream’s legs failed him when he needed them most, a young goalkeeper slipped and fell when he had no good options for support.
What more can you say about a team, about our country? The team is an entity that is capable of more but still has so far to go, that is vulnerable to the same forces of avarice and selfishness and fear that plague our national identity writ large.
It’s possible to end the story there, to say good riddance to another failed year and fractured team. But I think that’s a mistake. I think if you believe that you haven’t really been watching. I think that’s also why it pissed me off so much that some of my friends wouldn’t root for the U.S. Yes, we have flaws, like every country involved in the tournament. Yes, our current team management and political government are filled with morons. But if you won’t put on the shirt you’re essentially opting out of our future. We can’t wait around for a better world, a better team, a better president, before we deign to lend our support. Progress only comes from effort, from caring, from believing in something more.
One of my favorite images of the World Cup was a crowd shot of the opening match against Paraguay in Los Angeles: every race, color and creed of American there is, all covered in red white and blue. It’s corny and trite, sure. But that’s what it’s all about. That’s why we’re here. You have to believe. The U.S. won that game 4-2. In four years, we’ll be even better.