When Condé Nast announced in January that it was folding the nearly 30-year-old music website Pitchfork into GQ, music fans and journalists decried the downsizing of a revered media outlet that gave voice to a diverse array of music genres, styles and artists that it praised and panned with its decimal system rating scale.

The shake-up also resulted in the departure of another woman from a leadership position in the music industry. Puja Patel, whom Condé Nast named Pitchfork’s first woman editor-in-chief in 2019, was among those laid off after presiding over an expansion both in staff and coverage. A veteran of Spin, which she also ran, and The Village Voice, Patel — the daughter of a Zimbabwean father and Indian mother — advocated for “more conversational and accessible writing,” ensuring that the publication’s tagline of being “the most trusted voice in music” rang true for a wider range of readers. She also empowered her staff to shape that coverage and widen its focus from the once-male-dominated space of indie-rock to include, for instance, regional rap, Latin and urbano music, while also supporting indie’s current generation of stars such as Phoebe Bridgers, Mitski, Adrianne Lenker and HAIM.

In her first interview since leaving Pitchfork, Patel, 38, discusses her impact on the brand and why music journalism is here to stay.

What were your goals as Pitchfork’s editor-in-chief?

I really knew what I wanted to do with it when I went there, and I think having some security of vision and a strong sense of the legacy of a publication — being able to keep that alive while also growing the thing — is the biggest task of anyone taking on an institution like Pitchfork. But I was mostly excited about taking an incredibly talented staff and [helping build] an even more expansively minded staff.

How did you see the impact of those changes during your time there?

The work of changing a place that is so beloved and such an institution is slow and purposeful. Often when someone new comes in, people expect some kind of bombshell explosive reinvention. The harder and more meaningful version of that is keeping the best parts and changing the parts that can be changed. The staff is very obviously more diverse than it has ever been. The taste on the site — it has gotten weirder and more engaged with popular music. And the readership has also become a lot more inclusive.

What were your ultimate goals for Pitchfork’s growth and evolution?

I wanted Pitchfork to be the destination for the discerning music listener — a place where you could discover an artist, listen to our staff debate and contextualize new releases; hear from the musicians themselves; see them live at one of our shows; and become part of our community online and in person. It was important to me to be deliberate about expanding the scope of our editorial while also advocating for brand expansions in audio, sponsored activations and consumer growth.

Indie music is currently more diverse and dominated by women. What role did Pitchfork’s coverage play in that evolution?

I wouldn’t go so far as to say that Pitchfork is the reason why that has happened, but I think we did make a really pointed case in recent years to say, “We’re going to give this artist what might be their first interview for a major publication. And we might also go ahead and book them for the festival.” We’ve heard from labels that they have signed artists based on Pitchfork album reviews and that tickets to shows have sold out once [an act] got Best New Music or once Pitchfork gave a glowing recommendation. Part of the way we curated the festivals during my time at Pitchfork was to give at least one [artist] their first headlining set at a festival. During my time there, that was HAIM, Big Thief, Phoebe Bridgers and Mitski. All folks who are vitally important to the conversation around music right now.

What role will the album review play going forward?

I find that music criticism and, specifically, the role of the album review is so important for anyone who cares about music. Every single day at midnight, we saw an uptick in traffic when we published our new album reviews. They are a way for fans to gauge their own understanding and opinion of how they feel. Beyond that, they contextualize an album against the artist’s own discography, explain the nuances of lyricism or that a [song sounds] intentionally familiar because it’s a callback to some other piece of art. I also really believe that the album review is a way for people to soundboard their own instincts. When they see, in Pitchfork’s case, a score, or they read someone who is talking about how a piece of music makes them feel, it’s a way for them to viscerally say, “I agree” or “I don’t agree” and explore why.

Why is it important to have a wider and diverse group of people pick Best New Music?

When I started at Pitchfork, I really made the idea of the album review scoring and consideration much more inclusive and collaborative. We would invite the entire staff to listen to an album. Bringing more people and more perspectives into the conversation opens up new windows and lanes to consider the piece of music, which always in my mind made us like it more. That’s not to say that there wasn’t an executive decision made from time to time.

With music publications shuttering or shrinking, does that create more space for independent voices to thrive?

It has been hard to watch the most iconic music publications slowly being pared down more and more. I’ve found a ton of inspiration and joy from the way that younger folks are using social media as a place to make music discovery and discourse accessible to more casual fans — especially as we’re seeing labels encouraging artists to take ownership of their narratives through some of the same formats. And while that sort of push from the music industry makes the industry ostensibly or optically less reliant on a journalist’s viewpoint, I still believe that journalism and arts writing is extremely valuable. At the very least, it acts as a historical record. So much of music right now is repurposed from other music, and knowing what you’re listening to and where it comes from is exceedingly valuable. I really believe that even very good marketing can’t replace very good music journalism.

Who are your must-reads?

I want to shout out Mano Sundaresan’s blog, No Bells, which started as this tiny, friends-talking-about-rap thing but has evolved into a collection of some of the most interesting and spirited young people with a massive curiosity for new music. It’s done with the humor and levity and general alt-counterculture spirit that is missing from so much “capital s” serious writing.

How have you shaped the future of music journalism?

There tends to be a lot of acclaim awarded to people who are the first of their identity to step into some role that has historically been reserved for a certain other kind of person. And, honestly, almost everywhere I worked, I’ve been the first of some kind in my position: the first woman, the first person of color, the first Asian American. In most cases, I’m two of those things, sometimes all three. So you’re proving yourself to the systems that were made with other people in mind, and you are also bending those systems toward the future. You are de facto acting as a representative or a sounding board for people who might be or have felt underrepresented in the past. And just by way of that, you’re also reshaping the industry that you’re a part of.

This article originally appeared in the March 2, 2024 issue of Billboard.